Onto the grass flopped Glorfindel. “I am home,” he announced with a groan.

Erestor, who had been leaning against a tree and reading, looked up at Asfaloth, from which Glorfindel had simply slid off of. The horse pawed the ground and snorted into the mass of blond hair spread on the ground before stepping over his master and wandering back to the stable. “Welcome home,” replied Erestor before looking back to his book.

“You should ask me how the patrol was.”

“No, I think I shall not,” answered Erestor, turning the page of his book and choosing a piece of licorice from a bowl beside him.

Pouting, Glorfindel squinted from the sunlight and said, “No, really, ask me about my patrol.”

“I respectfully decline,” said Erestor, trying not to smirk.

“Errrggghhhnn.” Glorfindel stretched his arms and legs before lying still again. “Come on, ask me.”

“No,” said Erestor just as his book was snatched away. “Fin! Give that back!”

“Ask me how the patrol was,” prodded Glorfindel, shoving the book under his back as he settled into the grass again.

“I refuse.” Erestor glared at the warrior while the sounds of the young peredhel of the valley approaching caused his ears to twitch. Trying another tactic, Erestor picked up the bowl. “If you give me my book back, I will share with you.”

Lifting his head to see what was being offered, Glorfindel pulled a face. “Why can you not humor me?” he asked.

“Because all you will do is complain, and the day is too beautiful to listen to you bemoan the abilities of your fellow trackers and guardians,” explained Erestor as he picked through the candies. Arwen was the first to make it to them.

“Uncle Finny’s home! He’s home!” Arwen practically pounced Glorfindel, tackling him with an ‘ooof!’ that was overexaggerated by the warrior. “Did you bring me something?”

“Arwen! You cannot ask him that every time he comes back,” scolded Elladan as he joined them, with Elrohir on his tail. “Welcome back, Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel was rummaging through his pockets, with Arwen sitting now on the grass next to him. He pulled a smooth piece of violet-colored quartz from one of his pockets and handed it to her with a smile. She grinned, and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Uncle Fin! It’s so pretty!” Arwen happily turned it over and over in her hand, admiring the way it shined and sparkled.

Glancing around and frowning when he saw Erestor concentrating on his candy dish, Elrohir asked, “Did you leave that poetry book in the house, Erestor?”

“No, it was stolen,” said the advisor calmly before popping another candy in his mouth. He offered the dish out to the children. Two of them grimaced as Glorfindel had, but Elladan perused the items and smiled in thanks after taking a few pieces for himself.

“Oh, no...” Elrohir wrung his hands. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Erestor poked his bare foot at Glorfindel’s shoulder. “He stole it.”

“Uncle Fin stole from Uncle Erestor?” Arwen frowned. “That is not nice,” she scolded Glorfindel. “Nana says that sort of thing is unacceptable.”

Before he could defend himself, Glorfindel heard Erestor say, “I was just about to tickle him to get it back – ‘tis under his back, by the way – but then you arrived, and-“

“Get him!” shouted Elladan, and Elrohir, always heading his brother’s advice (good or bad), leaped down upon Glorfindel as his twin did. Arwen scooted off to the side and onto Erestor’s lap a safe distance away as Glorfindel let out a gasp of surprise. This was followed by loud, boisterous laughter and demands for them to stop. Rolling to the side in an attempt to jostle the twins away, Erestor saw his chance and seized up the book, setting little Arwen aside. He handed her the dish of candy, patted her head, and took off toward the house with the book.

As Glorfindel rolled back, he immediately figured out what had happened while he was trying to fend off the twins, who were now taking off in the direction of the woods. He glanced one way, and then the other. Although the house was closer, it would be more difficult to catch up with the youths than it would be to catch a barefoot advisor wearing long robes.

Not ten feet from the steps of the house, Erestor’s joyful grin was wiped from his face. He found himself being hoisted into the air and tossed over Glorfindel’s shoulder.

“You do know, going barefoot leaves you open to a most merciless attack,” Glorfindel said playfully to the somewhat upside down Erestor.

“Do not dare!” shrieked Erestor as Glorfindel’s free hand danced across the soles of the dark elf’s feet. “Fin!”

“Sorry, what was that?” Glorfindel lightly teased the wiggling toes.

“Stop it!” S-s-s-stop!” Erestor squirmed and shook with laughter. “By Eru, Fin, put me down! You are embarrassing me in front of everyone!” he laughed, which was not completely true, but there were a fair number of other elves around who were watching them, laughing at his predicament.

Glorfindel moved to tickle the advisor’s ankles now as well. “What was that? Did you just ask me how my patrol was?”

“No, I asked no such- yes, yes! How was your patrol?!” Erestor shouted as Glorfindel attacked more ruthlessly.

“Oh, alright.” Glorfindel gently knelt so that he could put Erestor down without dropping or hurting him. “Very uneventful, and very boring, which is a good thing. And, I missed you,” added Glorfindel in a more subdued and sincere tone.

Erestor, still holding the book tightly, tucked it into the fold of his robe and reached out to pat Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Well, for what it may be worth, I missed you too, you rogue.”

Arwen had just arrived, having followed them. She handed the candy dish, which she had carefully carried back, to Erestor. Seeing her parents on the porch (who had rushed outside upon hearing from a worried Melpomaen that ‘Erestor and Glorfindel were fighting in the courtyard’), Arwen ran to them calling out, “Uncle Fin’s home! And Elladan and Elrohir are gonna be in trouble with him for tickles!” Arwen looked up at her parents very seriously. “I was good. I have a pretty rock, too.” She held the quartz up for them to inspect.

Celebrian smiled and nodded at her daughter’s excitement over the rock while Elrond walked down the steps. He gave his chief staff members a very stern look, but it soon dissolved into light laughter. “Sometimes I wonder, did either of you ever truly grow up?”

“No, and I have to hunt down your sons and tickle them, so if there is anything more...?” Glorfindel stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothing.

Elrond gave Glorfindel a long, hard look. Finally, he said, “Do you need any help?”

As Glorfindel and Elrond jogged off in the direction of the woods, Erestor took a moment before making it back to his feet as well. “Wait for me!” he shouted after them.

With his hand poised to knock, Glorfindel stood rooted in his place outside the tall oaken door. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing so that he would appear calm. Unable to see any windows where he was, he missed the streak of lightning. The thunder caught him off guard and he inadvertently hit his knuckles against the door.

Running away was not an option, so he willed his body not to tremble as it was. When the door opened, however, he practically flew inside. “Good, you are still awake!” he said as he passed by the disheveled advisor, who appeared to have only just tumbled out of bed.

“Good morning,” Erestor half-mumbled in regards to the early hour. “Something the matter?” he asked with a yawn.

“What? No, I just came to see if you were doing alright. Because of the storm,” lied Glofindel. He whimpered as another lightning strike lit up the sky and covered his ears, cowering when the crash and roar came through the air.

Erestor, more awake now, retied the sloppy knot he had made putting a robe on and went to shut the window. “Storm should pass in an hour or so,” he said in hopes of comforting his friend. He walked to Glorfindel and led him to the bed. “Here, the walls are thicker in my room, I think. Sleep here; you will not fall victim to Manwe and Ulmo’s fun in this room.”

“It is not Manwe or Ulmo who are tormenting me,” said Glorfindel. “’Tis Irmo and his wicked dreams. You would think it would be enough for me to have lived through my death not to have to relive it in my dreams.” Another boom sounded outside, and this one was indeed more subdued now that the window was closed, but frightened Glorfindel no less. “You know, I used to like the rain,” he reminded Erestor as he was tucked into bed.

“I know,” nodded the elder elf sympathetically, fluffing up the pillow before easing Glorfindel’s head upon it.

“Where are you sleeping?” asked Glorfindel with concern as Erestor went to the fire and added wood to it.

Erestor pointed to the desk. “I have some work I should finish. You rest; I am here to keep the demons at bay.”

They had both forgotten about the door to the hallway being open, and when Erestor looked there now he was surprised to see a little peredhel dragging a worn green blanket behind her. “Uncle Finny, I went to Nana when the thunder started but the door was locked and the thunder noises were worse there, and I came to your room and you were gone!” She invited herself in, dragging the blanket across the floor. “Nana says I am too big to sleep in bed with her and Ada now.” The thunder crashed above the house and Arwen shrieked and grabbed her blankie close. “I thought I would crawl in with you because El’n’El would tease me if I went to them but you were gone!”

Glorfindel was sitting up, nearly about to get out of bed. “I am not gone, sweet little flower. Come; I will walk you to your room and sit with you while the storm passes.”

“You just came from patrol. Ada says never to bother you when you get back from one.” More thunder, another whine. “But I could not help it I am so scared the house will fall down!” she finished quickly, rushing up into Glorfindel’s arms, her blanket left discarded on the floor.

Erestor came to retrieve the precious remnant of a quilt that once was and handed it back to Arwen. “This house will never fall. It is good and strong, built in part by your father with his two hands. Nothing he built would ever dare fall,” Erestor assured her.

“Were you going to sleep in Erestor’s bed?” asked Arwen, suddenly realizing where she had found Glorfindel.

“I-“

“Can I sleep in here, too?” Arwen turned her pout to the chief counselor. Her sorrowful grey eyes finally made him smile and nod.

“Of course you can. Both of you, in bed now,” instructed Erestor.

“I do not suppose you have room for one or two more?” asked a voice timidly from the hallway. Elladan and Elrohir stood in the doorway, each of them clutching the other’s hand behind Elladan’s back so that no one would see how afraid they were of the thunder.

Erestor lifted up the corner of the blanket and made a wave of his hand toward the bed. Scampering into the room, the twins clambered up onto the mattress as if they were no more than elflings as well.

Arwen frowned. “You are too big, you will ruin the bed,” she scolded her brothers, but when the bed seemed not to move one bit beneath the weight, she sighed and said, “Fine, but you have to share that side of Glorfindel. I get this side.”

“Are you afraid of the thunder, too?” Elrohir asked Glorfindel once the four of them were tucked in by Erestor, who pulled a chair up to the side of the bed.

Glorfindel shifted uncomfortably, and then said, “The roaring thunder sounds a lot like an angry balrog.” He, and the children, all shivered at the word.

“There are none of those here. Only rain, falling down from the sky again, as it always does, and ever will. We are all perfectly safe here,” Erestor assured them. “Now, go to sleep, the lot of you.”

There was silence until Arwen asked, “Uncle Erestor?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“May I have a drink of water?”

Erestor opened his eyes (for he had been attempting a little sleep on his chair) and located the pitcher of water and a glass. After fulfilling her request, he heard one of the twins clearing his throat on the other side of the bed. “Are you thirsty, too, Elladan?”

“I think I am,” replied Elladan sheepishly. A second glass was brought to him, and after he drank it, Elrohir asked, “Is there any water left?”

“Yes, but I have run out of cups,” explained Erestor.

“He can use mine,” Elladan assured the dark advisor, holding out the empty glass.

As the third glass of water was poured, Glorfindel gave a little sigh. “All of this talk of water coupled with the rain-“

“You know where the chamber pot is,” spoke Erestor. “That, I am NOT bringing to the bed for you.” The peredhil all laughed as Glorfindel stuck out his tongue and wriggled himself out of the middle of the bed, climbing over the end of it to get to the little washroom.

Once everyone was situated again, another request came from Arwen. “I need a song. Or a story. Or both.”

So she got three songs, and two stories, and a poem, and another glass of water, followed by a trip to the restroom herself. It was not until dawn was just breaking that finally she fell asleep. Her brothers had done so an hour earlier, and Glorfindel was now yawning and getting a glazed look over his eyes as the last reminders of the storm could only be faintly heard in the distance.

Fighting to keep awake in his chair, Erestor saw a worried Lady Celebrian pass by in the hallway. He hissed in her direction that she should return, not wishing to wake the occupants of his bed.

“Oh, there they are,” she whispered with a sigh of relief. “Last night the storm was so bad, Elrond and I plugged our ears with wax to keep from hearing that terrible thunder. I woke this morning, and found Arwen gone from her bed. The twins were not in theirs either, and when I knocked on Glorfindel’s door, he was gone, too.”

“This is where they ended up,” confirmed Erestor as if the sight was not proof enough. “Would you-“ He yawned. “-would mi-i-i-nnd-“ Another yawn. “Telling Elrond I shall be late for work this morning?”

Celebrian frowned. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“A little,” said Erestor as he rubbed his eyes. “I just need to take a cold shower and get dressed-“

“No, do not dare,” she said softly, laughing and shaking her head. “Go on, get into bed.”

“What, here?”

“’Tis your bed,” she reminded him, turning down the covers on the side Arwen occupied. She picked the little girl up into her arms and pointed at the available spot while her daughter instinctively reached her arms around her mother’s neck and snuggled against her, blankie tightly held in one hand. Walking around to the other side as Erestor sat down on the vacated spot, Celebrian roused the twins and prodded them from the bed, telling them to go to their rooms and take a nap.

Erestor glanced at the near empty bed, and looked up with the same look that Arwen had given him hours earlier. Celebrian snorted.

“That one does not belong to me,” she said with amusement. “And I am not carrying him back to his bed.” With that, she left the room and shut the door behind her.

With a sigh, Erestor pulled the covers up and rested his head on the pillow. The movement jostled the bed enough to wake Glorfindel. He sleepily turned his head and blinked. “Erestor? What is going on?”

“Shh.. go back to sleep. You are just dreaming,” replied the dark elf, nodding off as Glorfindel fell asleep again.

Back in her room, Celebrian stretched and roused her husband, who complained of the time. “Why did you get me up so late, Bri?”

Pulling back the curtains to let the light shine in, she replied, “Your sons and daughter were up half the night, so I had to put the children to bed.” She paused and added, “All five of them.”

“How busy are you?”

Elrond contemplated the question, looking up at his wife. Little Arwen was balanced on one of her hips while Celebrian’s other hand was occupied with a picnic basket. He smiled, but frowned once he looked across the desk at Erestor. “We have quite a lot to get done yet today,” he apologized.

Celebrian was about to give an understanding comment, but Arwen had a different idea. Her frown, her little pout, and the batting of her dark lashes made the corners of Erestor’s mouth turn up in a smile. “It can wait,” said the dark haired advisor, and immediately, Arwen smiled brightly.

“Ada, put your quill down, silly,” she called out, being one of only two residents in the valley allowed to grace upon the lord of Imladris such a title.

“Here, silly, you can carry the picnic basket,” offered Celebrian, holding it out and giving her husband a wink.

Elrond gave a passing glance at Erestor, who was shuffling the papers on the desk, as he walked to the door. He shed his formal robe to reveal much more comfortable attire- leggings and tunic. “What about-“ he began to whisper, but Celebrian had already figured that one out.

“You, too, Erestor. Come along, do not make me drag you out.”

His smirk was concealed as he was still faced away. “I suppose I could be persuaded.”

“The day is lovely,” she said, although there really was no argument. “Come, the tulips are in bloom. I packed seed cakes.”

As if he could be bribed in no other fashion, Erestor shoved the chair back and stood with a flourish. “Only if I might be allowed to escort the lovely lady Arwen to the picnic,” he said with a bow. He kept his robes on as he held out his hand, and the peredhel child nearly leaped to the floor from her mother’s arms, placing her tiny hand into Erestor’s palm. Everyone in the valley knew how much Erestor loved children; even the children.

“Someday, one of your own, perhaps?” teased Elrond with a nudge as they headed out of the door.

“I definitely hope so,” answered Erestor as the group began to walk down the hallway. Celebrian was on Elrond’s arm as he hummed a playful tune. Arwen insisted on swinging Erestor’s arm back and forth as they walked.

An impatient tapping of a foot greeted them at the door. A grin came from the other one. “And where do the four of you think you are going?” insisted the elder, while the younger continued with the foot tapping.

“Are you coming, then?” Elrond obviously saw no reason to explain himself, and he kept walking past his sons.

“Did Nana pack enough?” Elrohir always worried that there would not be enough to go around, even though there was always more than needed. Despite this, he managed to sneak a peek under the cloth covering the top of the basket, and licked his lips in anticipation.

Celebrian nodded in the direction of the stables. “Should we ask Glorfindel to join us?”

The twins raced ahead, eager to have their favorite teacher along. They found him in the stables, as expected, but Lindir and Melpomaen were with him. Impatiently, Elladan rocked back and forth on his feet as Glorfindel finished an explanation regarding a particular type of saddle as Lindir and Melpomaen nodded.

Again, Elrohir raised his concerns, but instead of speaking, he gave Elladan a sideways look. Elladan, ever the leader, took the matter into his own hands. “We need to take a run up to the house quick for something, but everyone else is heading down to the Bruinen for a picnic.” Then, he ran off again, his brother tagging along after a shout of, “You better hurry up or you may not catch them!”

When the twins returned with a second basket of goodies, they found that their sister had discovered that two elves were better than one - especially if you can get them to lift you up now and again and swing you back and forth. Glorfindel, as everyone knew, liked children, too.

Melpomaen had taken control of the picnic basket, while Elrond had begun the task of storytelling. The tale was one familiar to his sons, but they listened to him anyhow while Celebrian pointed out the perfect picnic spot. Lindir fluttered a few notes on a flute that had been sticking out of his back pocket. The ‘First Family of the Last Homely House’ as many had taken to calling this group, sat down in the grass to enjoy the day.

“Fin!” The name came out as a hissed whispered squeak, and Erestor skidded into the room. He nearly tripped on his robes as he came to a halt before Glorfindel who had just stood from his chair. With a giggled snort, Erestor trusted his balance to his officemate, looking over his shoulder as Glorfindel steadied him by the elbows. “I need you to protect me!”

“What is the matter?” asked Glorfindel as he was pulled around the two desks that faced each other and shoved into Erestor’s usual chair. The sounds of someone approaching from down the hallway were audible as Erestor squished himself under the desk and yanked on Glorfindel’s legs so that he was suddenly at the desk and appearing alone in the room when Elrond entered.

“-and furthermore, I am not ‘fat’! You are simply too skinny, and we peredhel-“ Elrond paused, looking around quickly, and glancing back down the hallway. “Where is he?”

“Who?” The fact that Glorfindel was a bit confused as to what was going on made acting the part all that much easier.

Elrond crossed the room, seized the curtains and pulled them aside. “You know who,” he said in a low voice, his eyes falling upon the closet. He grinned and approached.

Glorfindel tried to make his legs more comfortable, as Erestor was taking up all of the good spots beneath the desk. Finally, he rested his bare feet in Erestor’s lap. “I have no idea who you-“

“Oh, yes you do,” argued Elrond, mumbling this at the closet door, and then stating rather clearly, “Erestor, open this door right now! I demand you stop hiding from me!” Grabbing the knob of the door, Elrond flung it open, and though a bag of feathers for making quills fell from the top shelf and drifted down upon the elf-lord, it was quite clear that Erestor was not inside.

“Shall I... call for a maid?” offered Glorfindel, who was trying hard not to laugh – but this was due less to the mess Elrond had made, and more because of the fingers vengefully tickling between his toes at the moment.

Elrond turned around and waggled a finger at Glorfindel, narrowing his eyes. “You tell me where he is right now, Glorfindel!”

“Oh, if only I knew. Where, oh, where could he be? Let me think...” As Glorfindel mused this to himself, he patted his feet about, keeping his toes away from Erestor’s hands while patting them against his friend’s shoulder, chest, stomach, ears, and of course, smooshing his entire foot against Erestor’s face at times. “Could he perhaps be under-“ *BANG* “Yeeowch!”

Elrond’s expression softened suddenly. “Glorfindel? Are you alright?” He began to walk toward the blond.

“Fine, fine, I am fine, yes, just- whoo, those old Gondolin war wounds, every now and then they just sneak up on you,” he said, rubbing his knee.

“Would you like me to take a look at it?” questioned Elrond with much concern.

Glorfindel adamantly shook his head. “Oh, no, best just to walk it off.” He stood up, walked a brisk circle around the chair, and sat back down. “Yes, much better,” he grimaced as he bent his knee, for it had banged into the top of the desk when Erestor, apparently not happy with having toes in his face, bit the underside of his foot.

“Drat, he probably is halfway to Lorien by now,” cursed Elrond as he made his way to the door. “If you see him, bring him straight to me! ‘Fat’, my eye,” he mumbled as he left the room.

“Old Gondolin war wound?” Erestor popped his head up from under the desk – and Glorfindel cocked one brow up, for Erestor was looking up from a rather compromising position. “You are just lucky he didn’t catch me!”

Glorfindel chuckled and patted Erestor on the head. The dark advisor made a face at him. “Yes, but I have,” he said with a grin.

Before Erestor could protest, there was a knock on the edge of the doorway, and Glorfindel sat upright in his chair, shoving Erestor’s head back underneath the desk with the rest of him. “Lindir! How good to see you!”

“Good day to you as well.” Lindir stepped into the room, and Glorfindel held his breath until the minstrel paused just a few feet from him. His grey eyes were perusing the office with interest – no doubt, Elrond had sent his protégé in to spy. “I thought I heard voices coming from within.”

“Just me,” said Glorfindel abruptly.

“You were talking to yourself?”

“I thought everyone did that,” returned the blond. He felt his legs being repositioned beneath the desk and tried not to appear too fidgety. Glorfindel began to sort through random piles on the desk, hoping Erestor would forgive him later for disorganizing the neat stacks.

Lindir perched himself on the few inches of bare space on the desk, and Glorfindel looked up at him. “Have you see Erestor?”

“No, have not seen him, no, never.” The last word earned him a pinch to the inside of his thigh, and he clamped his teeth together to keep himself from yelping.

“You have... never seen Erestor?” questioned Lindir incredulously.

Clearing his throat to give himself a moment to think, Glorfindel replied, “That is today, I have not never seen him. Ever. Not ever today at all. A-hem,” he punctuated, clearing his throat again and looking over a request form as if it were most important and much more interesting than what Lindir was saying.

“I thought I saw the two of you at breakfast together,” mused Lindir.

“No, that must have been a different Erestor. A different elf that looked liked Erestor. Someone else,” Glorfindel hurriedly finished, as Erestor hit his head repeatedly (but silently) against Glorfindel’s knee under the desk.

“How many elves in the valley look like Erestor?” questioned Lindir, trying not to smirk as he circled the room. Glorfindel felt the dark elf under the desk retreat to the very back while Lindir studied the cabinets, looked beneath a table, and even knocked on a wall the young ellon suspected at times was false.

“Well, obviously, at least two. Erestor, and the other one.”

“And who is this other one?” asked Lindir, ignoring the mess of feathers on the floor as he further examined the closet.

Glorfindel squirmed in his chair. “What other one?”

“The other one who looks like Erestor whom you were breaking your fast with this morn,” prompted Lindir.

“Oh! That other one. I do not know,” admitted Glorfindel, wiping the sweat from his brow when Lindir looked away for a moment, checking behind the cloaks on a rack by the door.

Lindir turned around, giving him the look that Elrond made famous. “You ate with him, and you do not know who he was?”

“That so long ago – hours and hours. How am I to recall the name of everyone in the valley?” insisted Glorfindel.

For a moment, Lindir did not say anything, but then, he countered with, “Breakfast was only forty minutes ago.”

“And a LONG forty minutes it has been,” Glorfindel assured the young minstrel. “Now, if you please,” he said, standing up (Erestor grabbed his ankles in panic, but Glorfindel gently tugged them away), “I have work to be done.”

“Of course.” Lindir smirked. “I shall leave you and Master Erestor to that.”

“Thank you. I mean-“ began Glorfindel, but Lindir was grinning.

As the minstrel left the room, he called over his shoulder, “I think doing one’s work beneath one’s desk is VERY productive indeed – in fact, I am about to suggest it to Elrond right now!”

“Shite!” Glorfindel would have continued his cursing had Erestor not grabbed his arm and yanked him out the door. “Wait, where are we going?”

“Where Elrond will not find us!” Erestor pulled his robes up from the ground a bit with one hand and prodded Glorfindel down the hall with the other. “Come on! I know you can go faster than that!”

The pair raced out of the house, and Glorfindel blindly followed Erestor through the gardens and out to the oldest of the barns, the one used for keeping poultry and hutches of rabbits. “Up!” hissed Erestor when Glorfindel looked about in confusion. The scholar ran to the other end as Glorfindel began to climb the slats that were inset in the wall to a crude platform that made a sort of loft. When Glorfindel looked down, he saw Erestor running back to the wall to climb it, and noticed that both doors were now open. “Keep going; someone is bound to have seen us!” Erestor said with urgency, having a bit more trouble keeping his footing with his long robes.

When Glorfindel was on the top, he turned about and offered his hand to Erestor. As the dark elf came close enough to reach out to him, they heard the voices of Lindir and Elrond approaching. Glorfindel hoisted Erestor up the rest of the way, and then Erestor pulled Glorfindel to one end of the platform. There they pressed against the only part of the loft bordered by a wall that did not drop down to the ground. Erestor clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“Well, this is just fine.” Elrond had just entered the barn and huffed upon seeing the open door at the other end. “They ran right through and we lost them.”

“Are you sure?” Lindir began to explore around the hutches and coups, and Elrond nodded.

“They will have to come back to the house at some point – and then, we shall have words,” promised Elrond. He steadied himself against the wire frame of one of the coups while Lindir continued his half-hearted search.

Finally, Lindir gave up and said, “Next time, we will catch them. You just need to get a bit more in shape – all the winter months inside caused you to store a little extra weight. Now with the spring here, you can be out and about to enjoy your strolls in the garden after dinner to walk it off. What exactly did Erestor say to make you so upset?” Lindir asked when Elrond did not converse back.

“He said I was getting sluggish and fat,” Elrond told Lindir flatly.

Charmingly as possible, Lindir grinned. “Would you look at the time! I have SO much to do...” The minstrel flew in the direction of the house as Elrond grumbled and then headed there himself.

“What sort of secret hideaway is this?” asked Glorfindel when he was sure that he and Erestor were alone in the barn. The loft was mostly bare, but it did have a few old pillows that Glorfindel recognized from a couch that had once been in the Hall of Fire, as well as a few bales of hay that were pushed together as a sort of lounge or bed. There was wine, and lembas in a sealed canister next to jars of preserved fruit. A stack of old books were piled against the wall.

“Mine.” Erestor sat down on a hay bale and patted the one beside him. “If I need a place to hide when Elrond is in a mood, then I come here. Today, I set him off rather unexpectedly and had no where else to run but to you.”

Glorfindel smiled. “I am glad that you know you can trust me.”

Erestor looked about for a moment, and then snorted. “I called Elrond fat.”

“I sort of got that impression,” laughed Glorfindel.

“Do you really talk to yourself?” asked Erestor as he retrieved a bottle of wine and some food for them to snack on.

“Erm... sometimes?” Glorfindel nodded. “Crazy, I know, but I do.”

“Oh, good,” Erestor said with a sigh of relief, taking a drink from the bottle and then handing it to the blond. “I thought I was the only one.”

There were times when no one could seem to find Erestor late in the day. He would be at the evening meal, and then would disappear. Once darkness claimed the valley, he could be found many places – sometimes the library, and other times the Hall of Fire. Perhaps he would be singing a lullaby to little Arwen or sitting in the stables with his horses. Yet other times he might engage in cards with Melpomaen and the twins, or ask Glorfindel to share a glass of wine with him on the balcony.

It was the ‘in between time’ as Glorfindel called it that befuddled the golden warrior. Even with his skills of tracking and perception, he could not find where the dark one hid himself. Looking high and low, and even in places no one else considered – the hidden passages of the house, the loft in the barn, and even in the basement – Glorfindel could never seem to find his dark friend. He never thought to ask, for it seemed that had Erestor wanted anyone to know, he would have said something. On the other hand, Glorfindel was just too damned curious not to try to find out.

So it happened that by complete accident Glorfindel decided one day to hike up the slope of the valley. As dusk approached and he made plans to camp for the night, he turned to regard the sunset and stopped to stare.

The colors were not what mesmerized him, or the swirls of nearly spent clouds wafting across the sky. It was not the sun, either, though it was one of the things of nature that he himself greatly loved. Instead, what gave him reason to pause was the ellon whose back was to him. His exposed back, for this elf wore no clothing – it had been carelessly tossed aside in a heap of leggings, boots, and a comfortable robe.

Glorfindel was afraid to break the silence that lingered as he watched Erestor breathe deeply and tilt his head slowly and slightly back as a warm breeze swam by. “Good evening, Glorfindel,” greeted the deep, calming voice.

“Good.. good evening,” he replied, and feeling it was alright, he took a step closer. “Erestor, may.. may I ask what you are doing?”

Erestor took another few slow breaths, then eased his head to turn and look up at Glorfindel. “I come here to pray,” he answered. “To give thanks for what He has done and to ask Him to bless those I love and care for, and everyone else in this world.”

“Not the orcs, though,” joked Glorfindel.

A smile crossed Erestor’s face. “Even the orcs. Remember, they never asked for anyone to mutilate them; to destroy and mar the beauty that their Father gave to them. Their souls are no different from ours.”

Glorfindel chewed on his lip as Erestor looked back over the valley. The dark elf had his palms resting in the grass on either side of him. Finally, Glorfindel mumbled, “I did not mean to disrupt you.” He took a step away.

“You need not go.” Erestor waited for Glorfindel to return. “If you want to stay you can.”

Looking out over the valley, Glorfindel glanced down at Erestor and said, “It just seems odd. I mean, here you are, sitting in the nude on the ridge while I am just standing here. It just looks very strange; you sitting here naked.”

“Would you feel more comfortable if I were dressed?” questioned Erestor.

“I.. doubt that would much matter,” admitted Glorfindel. “Why are you naked anyhow?”

“Because when I come here, I feel most connected with everything like this. Just at the end of the day, sitting here, as He created me. You know,” continued Erestor, “it was not Eru who put it into our minds to wear clothing, it was the Ainur. They were the ones who were ashamed of and embarrassed by the way their hroar looked when they mirrored our forms. So they covered themselves. We followed suit. ‘Tis a shame,” sighed Erestor, stretching his legs out before him.

Without further discussion, Glorfindel loosened the laces of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside. The rest of his garments made it into the pile before he sat down upon the ground beside Erestor to look out over the valley. “Say a prayer that neither of the twins wanders upon us up here like this,” suggested Glorfindel, his cheeks tinged slightly red.

“What makes you think I had not already done so?” Erestor stretched his arms up over his head before maneuvering back into a cross-legged sitting position. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, folding his hands together before him.

“So... what should I say to Him?” asked Glorfindel after a few awkward minutes.

“Whatever you like,” answered Erestor.

Glorfindel sighed and shook his head. “I have no idea where to begin. Beyond a few desperate calls of ‘Dear Eru, do not let me die again’ and ‘Please Eru, do not let this be another balrog’, my experience is limited. What do you say to Him?”

Erestor stiffened slightly, but relaxed as another breeze washed over them. “Sometimes I... just tell Him about all of the good things that happened in my day and how wonderful I think He is. Sometimes I tell Him about those who are frustrated or suffering and ask Him to help them. Sometimes I tell Him about those who I love and ask Him to give His blessings to them. Sometimes I ask Him to make things in my life a little easier; sometimes I thank Him for what He has done for me. Sometimes, when I am frustrated, I sit and-“ Erestor took a breath. “I sit and cry and curse and ask Him why. But I have found there is always a reason why; sometimes it takes a long time to realize why. Luckily for me, He is always forgiving, even when I am most angered and saying things I should not,” admitted the dark elf. Erestor paused and said, “Does that help you?”

“A little, and yet, I still do not know what to say.”

Giving a nod, Erestor said, “There is a little prayer that I know, perhaps you are familiar with it, too, which I used to say when I did not know what to say. Even now I use it sometimes. Do you know ‘The Lord’s Prayer’?”

Glorfindel shook his head. “I just know the ones I made up about not meeting another balrog.”

A smile crossed Erestor’s lips. “I can teach it to you, if you like.” As Erestor spoke the words, Glorfindel repeated the lines:

Lord Eru
Who dwells among stars
Sacred is your naming
As is your will
To be fulfilled
Guide us in your singing
Help us to choose that which is our path
And forgive those who will forsake it
Give us shelter from the dark
And lead us into the light
For you are ever and forever the One
The power and glory eternally
Namar

Feeling soothed and more welcome now in these surroundings, Glorfindel looked down into the valley. From the way the trees grew and rocks jutted, one could not quite see the house, but he knew where it was hidden. He could, however, see the gardens, as well as the stable and a few other buildings like the forge, with smoke still billowing. Walkways and bridges made meandering patterns through the land, and horses grazed far below while elves and men alike went about finishing the final tasks of the day. “You really have a remarkable view up here,” he said.

“Mmm... can you imagine the view Eru has of everything from the heavens? All of Aman, all of the time.” Erestor’s gaze wandered back to the setting sun.

“How long have you been... religious like this?” asked Glorfindel, for though he knew Erestor observed the holy times as some of the others in the house did, he had never known the extent of Erestor’s beliefs. In all honestly, the way Erestor was talking to him reminded him of the way some of the extremely devout elves spoke. The ones he often avoided at dinner and made excuses about having to be elsewhere when they made attempts to talk to him.

Erestor sighed. “Oh... since around the time I left Valinor. I was at first, but then I left Doriath and I forget about things for a while. Eventually, I ended up in Greenwood where I was reminded of a lot of things, including the faith I thought I had lost. But, Fin, if this bothers you-“

“No. I really, really want to know,” confirmed the blond, giving his friend a serious look. “I always wanted to ask someone about these sorts of things, but...”

“You were afraid they would make you join them unconditionally and be upset at you had you not?” guessed the dark elf.

Glorfindel nodded. “I had that preconceived notion, yes. My father always said it was a scam, that things would happen the same whether anyone prayed to Eru or not. He said we were all in charge of our own destinies.”

“Fin, not to be incredibly rude, but your father had some very stupid ideas,” Erestor reminded him.

With a sigh, Glorfindel agreed. “This is very true. The fact is, though, I never knew how much of it to believe in, because I happen to be very unknowledgeable regarding it.”

“Well... there are different versions of the basic belief system. The root in most of them is, you believe that Eru is the One, and the only God that there is. Period. Most everyone, elves at least, believe this in some capacity. Then each specific group has their own particular laws, rules, and customs. My beliefs are stricter than, say, what Elrond and Celebrian practice, and much, much more so than what Galadriel believes,” explained Erestor. “Then there are a lot of other little groups that are somewhat similar to one or more of those sets of beliefs. Besides all of that, there are those who do not consider Eru to be anything at all, but they really have more of a lack of beliefs.”

“I am... so lost right now,” admitted Glorfindel.

“How to make this short... Alright, the basis of the religious beliefs I have is that there is one God, Eru, and that He created everything, and this is His world, and we live in it because He wills it so. I direct my prayers to Him, and practice special rules, such as... for instance, if I do something morally wrong, then I am supposed to find someone to listen to my transgressions, and then I ask forgiveness from Him, usually in the form of a lot of praying and meditating.” Erestor stretched his legs out again, and wiggled his toes. “Elrond, on the other hand, also believes that Eru is the one God, but he and Celebrian pray to the Valar, basically thinking that they will carry the messages to Eru. I suppose they do sometimes, but the thing that is forgotten is that Eru is all powerful; that is, He can listen while I am praying to Him, and if you are praying to Him at the same time, He can listen to both of us at once. The group Elrond belongs to has very few special rules to follow, which are basically things like, do not murder, do not steal and other such items – same things I am not supposed to do. But if they do these things, they just try not to do them again. There is no need to confess and do penance and such.”

“Galadriel, well, she believes that Eru is not all powerful, and she actually believes that the Valar are the ones who are and that Eru is more of a fairytale or a myth.” Erestor looked quite perturbed saying this. “So, she prays to the Valar, when she feels like it, and that is about the extent of what she does. Elrond, he prays when he wants to and when he needs to. I pray at least twice daily, and sometimes more than twice. Now, the other thing that I am supposed to do is spread the message to others; those who have other beliefs, well, they are encouraged to of course share them, but they are not charged with ‘saving others’ as it may be called.”

Glorfindel suddenly had the look of a deer about to flee. “Normally,” he said, “that is the phrase that would cue me to make up some excuse to leave.”

With a smirk, Erestor continued to watch the sun sink. “I am not one to go about trying to round up others and convert them. I feel that when someone is ready, they will come to me.”

“How do you find time to pray twice every day?” questioned Glorfindel.

“I just do. How do you find time to eat three times a day?” countered Erestor. “Eating takes far longer to do once a day than praying does to do so five or six or even seven times.”

“How do you remember to do it when you are supposed to?” pressed Glorfindel.

“When I wake up and before I go to bed, I pray. This,” explained Erestor, spreading an arm out, “is extra. When I am in my office thinking of someone who I think needs a little blessing, I pray. If I am walking down the hall or in the garden and pass someone, if my mind is not preoccupied, I say a little prayer for them. I have prayed millions of times while you or others have been around me, and I doubt anyone has ever noticed.”

“So, being that I never really officially joined with any of these religions, that would mean I do not have one and I can just pick any of them, right?” Glorfindel guessed.

Lying back in the grass to watch the stars overhead after the sun disappeared from view, Erestor said, “Yes and no. You would be considered Aphadsadorin, like Elrond. I have a feeling, even if your parents were not heavily practicing a religion, they would have had you blessed by Eru in some type of ceremony or another. That being said, since you do occasionally pray and you do believe in Eru, they would consider you part of their group. You would nearly qualify as Valabronwin, but you believe in Eru, so they would not be happy to accept you as one of them.”

“What about you? What would I have to do to, uhm...” Glorfindel fought for the phrase he had heard a few times before and then said, “join your flock, as it were.”

“Well,” said Erestor, becoming very serious, “first, you would need to be very sure that this is what you believe in and that there is not some other religion that would be better for you. There are others, all of them smaller than the Aphadsadorin, but most larger than Sedrynerin, so you have to understand, I am in the vast minority, practicing what many think is an archaic religion for a time long past. Now of course, in Valinor, things are quite different, but here in Middle-earth, you will find many, many less Sedryners.”

Glorfindel wanted to say he was sure, fairly sure, but since he was not entirely sure, he closed his mouth and licked his lips. “Alright. Once I figure that out, once I decide, yes, I believe in all you are telling me, then what do I need to do?”

“The first step is to make a declaration to Eru,” explained Erestor. “On your own, by yourself, you speak to Him. You tell him you understand He is the one true power and that you accept Him unconditionally as your Father. You also admit that you have done things He would not approve of, and you strive to be better – though, even He knows that none of us are perfect in that regard. Well, He is, obviously. Then, from that point on, theoretically, you are considered to truly be one of His children, and you would then be called, in practice, a Sedryner.”

“And you did that once?” Glorfindel decided to follow suit and began stargazing as they continued to talk.

Erestor nodded. “When we were sailing here, to Middle-earth, it was Oropher who told me what I am telling you. I had felt as if I had been forsaken – at the time, I was an Aphadsador because I was praying more to the Vala than to Eru and never had really followed any of the Sedrynerin rules – for starters, I had lived for quite some time with an elleth beneath my roof and in my bed that I was not wed to. On the long voyage, Oropher counseled me. He continued to while we were in Doriath. Things went downhill again, and I left before he managed to convert me,” Erestor said with a rueful smile. “When we were being attacked in Gondolin, I found a moment in a secluded spot in the midst of battle, and there I first truly spoke to the Lord, not just praying as I had before, but asking Him to take me into His heart as one of His children. When I reached Greenwood some time later, I told Oropher and Thranduil what I had done. Both of them were simply overjoyed about it. And there I completed the rest of the rites.”

“And those would be?” Glorfindel asked when Erestor did not continue.

After another pause, Erestor said, “Are you sure you want to listen to me drone on this? I could always find you a book on the subject.”

“I would really rather hear this from you,” admitted Glorfindel.

“I feel as if you are perhaps just humoring me.” Erestor turned to look at Glorfindel and said, “I mean no disrespect to you, and if you tell me goodnight right now and leave, I will have no ill feelings against you.”

“Erestor, for a long time,” said Glorfindel, propping himself up with one arm, “I have just felt.. lost. I think it was no accident that I came upon you here – how many others have discovered this hiding place?”

“You are the first and only,” realized Erestor, and so, he proceeded. “The first thing you do is to confess your sins. This you do to someone who has already been part of the faith for a while, usually someone you are very comfortable with as you will be telling them some very personal things. Oropher offered, but in the end, I asked Thranduil to aid me. It is a very emotional thing.” Here Erestor had to stop, and he was looking at some far away point, no doubt remembering that day. “I remember being scared and feeling terrible and, I will admit, crying a lot. Of course, I went in thinking, this is no great task, just a few minutes time. It ended with me sitting in a corner weeping while Thranduil sat beside me telling me how very happy he was and how proud he was of me. It was.. a little strange, but there is a certain feeling after of utter peace that has hardly been duplicated in any of my subsequent confessions – which, sadly, are few and far between not having anyone here in Rivendell whom I feel that comfortable with.”

“So, Oropher and Thranduil and their families – they are all like you?” asked Glorfindel, and Erestor nodded in confirmation.

“Oropher indeed was, and he was something of a spiritual leader, though not officially. Thranduil and his sons, they are all trained as ministers of our faith. They are allowed to do some of the things that the rest cannot – perform weddings and cleansings and things of that nature,” said Erestor.

“And next, you shall tell me you are as well.” Glorfindel smiled just as Erestor did.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Erestor’s eyes sparkled, an affirmation of sorts.

With a wider grin, Glorfindel said, “You presided over Elrond and Celebrian’s wedding. When I asked Celeborn why he did not, his answer was that they wanted it to be ‘official’, just in case. Now it makes sense – in case either of them decided to convert.”

“No, in case one of their children decided to,” laughed Erestor. At the confused look Glorfindel gave him, Erestor said, “If you marry and have children and they decide to practice Sedrynereth, then all they would need to do is declare and confess.”

“What do you do if you were just... born?” asked Glorfindel. “Or... reborn?” he joked.

“If you are not born to Sedrynerin parents, or parents whose marriage was performed in the Sedrynerin manner, then you need to be cleansed.”

“Like a bath?” Glorfindel suspected that it was not much like a bath at all, but Erestor shrugged.

“Something like that, I suppose. You go to a river or a lake or something like that with one of the ministers. Usually, there is an accompaniment of others from the faith, but that is not necessary. You go with the minister into the water, about where it is waist deep or so. Everyone else stays ashore while you and the minister have a little discussion – last chance to leave sort of thing. No one is angry if someone suddenly decides not to continue.” Erestor stretched his arms and yawned. “Then you are submersed with the minister there to make sure you do not drown, and when you stand again, you are officially and truly a son – or daughter if the case may be – of Eru. Most then observe a three day long fast and time of silent meditation, often in a secluded place outside. And then, there is a big celebration and... then you are a Sedryner.”

“So, the cleansing is mostly symbolic then,” Glorfindel assumed.

Erestor frowned. “Well it is, but at the same time, it is a very spiritual thing. If you are interested in knowing more, I have a book you can borrow. Also, if you wish to attend a cleansing, I am performing one in a few days.”

“Oh?” Glorfindel wondered who it was. The answer was forthcoming.

“Melpomaen. He told me a number of times that he thought his parents were Sedrynerin, but he was never entirely sure. Pity that they died when he was so young,” sighed Erestor. “He made the decision in the autumn, but I convinced him to hold off on this final rite until the waters in the Bruinen had a chance to warm up again.”

“But... will it be alright for a non-Sedrynerin to be there?” worried Glorfindel.

“You are curious, and we do not turn away those who feel they are being called to us.” Erestor reached over and took hold of Glorfindel’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “If you have any other questions for me, I am always here to answer them. If you decide this is not for you, I will respect that completely. Thank you for not running away from me or making an excuse for needing to be somewhere else like you do to the rest of the parishioners,” added Erestor as he stood up and retrieved his clothing from where he had left it hours earlier.

“You are welcome. Though, it would have been difficult for me to have left,” said Glorfindel as he pulled his shirt back over his head. “You see,” he confessed, “I... I tend to lie to them and say that I am on my way to speak to you about something.”

“Yes, I know,” chuckled Erestor as he finished dressing and headed back into the valley.

If there was one member of the house who loved washday, it was Arwen. It always began with the gathering of all of the dirty laundry by the maids. Arwen would follow them about and help by carrying a sock that strayed from a basket or a forgotten towel to them. For this, she would be given a pat on the head, and sometimes, a candy. Good, sweet candies, not the kind that Erestor offered her that tasted bitter or turned her teeth black and green.

Then, it was off to the river. Sometimes, she would be given a small sack with fruit and bread for lunch, while other times the nanny would be sent along with a picnic lunch for them to share. On occasion, her brothers came, too; Arwen noted that this was to flirt with the wash maids even though they always told their parents it was to look after their sister.

Once they came to the bank of the Bruinen, the maids would unload the wheelbarrows used to transport the laundry through the valley. They would stretch a net from a large rock that was a few yards out to a tree upon shore. This kept any of the items from washing downstream should they slip from their hands. Then they would roll up their sleeves, and the gossiping would begin. The washing began, too, but Arwen took note that the maids seemed more occupied with who was in a relationship with whom than they were with working the stains from someone’s trousers.

Her mother never came down to the river on these days, nor would her father, nor her uncles, but sometimes Lindir would join the group assembled on the shore. He would arrive after lunchtime, when the hard work was already done. Clothing and sheets had been wrung out and were stretched across hithlain between the trees to dry. This was the part that Arwen liked the best. Some days, the older elves would act a bit younger, and the maids would engage in games with her brothers (in which the winner always kissed the loser, something she did not quite understand). Lindir would perch in a tree and sing songs, and if there was a game of tag or hide and seek going on, would wink and point out the hiding spots behind a tree or a blanket hung in the breeze to the seekers.

It was inevitable with all of the excitement that Arwen would get tired – the long walk down to the river was enough in and of itself, not to mention the fun once they arrived. A few times she would still be awake when the clothing had dried in the sun, and then would help to fold the linens. Most of the time, however, she would be curled up next to Lindir as he crooned a lullaby or sitting on one of her brother’s laps falling asleep.

She always awoke the same way – back at the house, in a wheelbarrow, upon a pile of fluffy, fresh blankets, in the hallway outside the linen closet.

It was late when Elrond came to the library, and he was not surprised to find Erestor still sitting at his desk. What did surprise him was that the advisor was not bent over a scroll or studying some text. Instead, Erestor was leaning back in his chair with his legs propped on the desktop. His interest was captured in watching one of the many moths that had found their way into the library and were attracted less to the paper and more to the flames of the candles that lit the chandelier overhead.

“Another late night, my friend?” asked Elrond as he passed the desk and continued to the stacks to find a medical book he hoped no one else had checked out.

“Hmmm? Oh, yes, indeed.” Erestor yawned and stretched his arms over his head, cracking the kink from his back. “Finding what you need?” he called out when he stopped hearing noise from the area Elrond had gone to.

“When did you acquire all of these books on poisonous plants?” asked Elrond as he returned with a stack nearly up to his nose.

“About... twelve years ago,” recalled Erestor. “Just a little light reading for the night?” he teased.

Elrond smiled behind the stack of books. “Aye. Do you mind if I take all of these?”

“Technically, they are your books. Your treasury paid for them,” Erestor reminded the lord of the house.

“Yes, but it is YOUR library.” Elrond set the stack down on the desk and waited as Erestor took his feet off of the desk and began to remove the checkout cards from each volume. “Next week, I have you scheduled as being off duty; Melpomaen as well.”

Erestor picked up the stamp and smushed it into the pad of red ink. “Yes, and thank you as always.”

“Of course. I think what you do is... very admirable,” Elrond finally settled upon. Erestor looked up immediately, a glimpse of hope in his eyes. “No, no, do not give me that look. You know I agree with most of your teachings already, but your way is not for me.”

“I do not see why not,” sighed Erestor. “You have said many times that you are not entirely happy with your own religion.”

“But I have not the time yours requires,” stated the lord firmly, and Erestor knew at that moment that further discussion was pointless. “Besides, I have heard that you have someone else to concentrate on these days.”

“Melpomaen does not require my guidance at this point; he has made his choice,” said Erestor as he neatly stacked the books for Elrond.

Elrond picked up the stack with a smile of thanks. “I meant Glorfindel. He came to me, you know.”

“Oh?”

“He wanted to know how I liked being an Aphadsadorin. I noticed that he has taken to carrying around your copy of the Book and reads to himself in the gardens. I assumed you must have spoken to him,” explained Elrond.

“He came to me first,” stated Erestor, as if he was in need of defending Glorfindel’s actions. “I only did what he asked me to do.”

Nodding, Elrond said, “I think it would be good for him.”

“But not for you.” Erestor made the statement matter-of-factly, then switched to a different topic. “What do you think would be an appropriate gift for a young ellon who has been doing a good job at work?”

Elrond frowned and set the books back down. “Whom are you referring to?”

“Melpomaen – he has picked up a lot of extra hours and has been working very hard. Normally, when I have an employee who is doing well, I like to get them a little gift of some sort. The thing is, until Melpomaen began working here, it was always ellith who were employed as scribes and pages. Ellith are easy to find gifts for; if it shines or sparkles, they are generally happy with it. Or, a lovely book of poetry, usually penned by myself, if it is for one I knew a bit about. Nothing I have been able to come up with seems appropriate. I thought, since you have two sons, you might be able to give me a suggestion.”

Pondering this, Elrond asked, “What does Melpomaen do in his free time?”

“He plays cards; he plays chess. He reads a lot. He already has a rather nice chessboard and I have not found a suitable book he might like. Melpomaen has something of a random range of tastes in books,” admitted Erestor.

“No interest in sport or music or art?” asked Elrond. Erestor shook his head. “Indeed, I am as uncertain as you.”

“Ah, well, it was worth a try,” shrugged Erestor. “Thank you for your time,” he added as Elrond picked up the stack. Elrond gave him a nod and bid him goodnight as he left.

Closing his eyes as he thought a little more, Erestor was awoken as rays of light came in through the windows. Looking around, he noted with a chuckle that the evening cleaners had come into the library and completed their work without waking him. Standing up from the large leather chair, he stretched and yawned and haphazardly walked into the stacks to further wake himself up.

His fingers idly slid across the spines of the rows as he slowly walked through the towering shelves of written knowledge. The unexplained came first, then philosophy and psychology, religion and sociology. Laws and customs followed, then languages. Here he paused. He reached up and plucked a book from near the top and flipped it open, his eyes scanning the words, both familiar and foreign, on the page. So many times, he wished he had more time to spend in this section. Replacing the book in its proper spot, he continued through the aisle. Science was next, and the medical section was rivaled only by the horticulture books. Then there was a break, and the second half of the library began with domesticated animals. It was a section often favored by the children, where a number of illustrated books were located.

Erestor stood before the section, his eyes skipping from title to title. Pulling a small red book from the shelf, he opened it randomly and smiled. Walking swiftly from the stacks with the book still in hand, he stopped in his rooms to brush his hair and generally make himself presentable before heading to the stables. He recalled a box of them being there a week ago, and wondered if any were left.

- - -

“You wished to see me, Lord Erestor?”

Erestor smiled warmly and stood up, motioning to the seat across his desk. Melpomaen sat down and folded his hands on his lap. “I wanted to speak to you about your performance here in the library.”

“I- I can do better,” Melpomaen said almost immediately. “Really, I can get done much more than I already do!”

“Melpomaen, calm yourself,” Erestor said, raising a hand. “That is not what I meant. Rather, I wanted to compliment you on the work you have been doing.”

“Really?” Melpomaen beamed. “Thank you, Master Erestor!”

“No, thank you. You are a dedicated, hard working member of the library staff, and I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate that.” Erestor reached quickly under the desk to make sure that everything was still in order. Melpomaen gave him a bit of a confused look, and Erestor asked, “What do you think about cats and dogs?”

“I love dogs,” said Melpomaen without delay. “I wanted one for some time, but I always feared, you know, losing them someday. But, still, I think a dog would be nice, even for a short time. A cat, too, perhaps. I suppose it would be difficult for me to decide,” the young scribe admitted.

With a nod, Erestor pushed back his chair and reached under the desk, pulling out a box that had edges of a worn blanket sticking up and out of it here and there. “Good, because I had such trouble deciding which to get you, so I just found one of each.”

Melpomaen looked down excitedly and grinned. He pulled the sleepy, white puppy out of the box and cuddled him. “Oh, he is adorable!” exclaimed the scribe, holding onto the puppy as his tail began to wag. He received a lick on the face and laughed. Looking down into the box, he found new collars for both the puppy and his companion, a long-haired brown and tan kitten who was curled up in a corner of the box snoozing. There were food and water dishes as well, and a leash for the puppy. “And so is she – thank you!”

“I am very glad you like them,” smiled Erestor. “Now, why not take the rest of the day off and let those two rascals get acquainted with your rooms?”

Placing the puppy back into the box, Melpomaen asked, “Can I thank you with a hug, or do I have to do this properly and just shake your hand?”

Chuckling, Erestor came around the desk and gave the younger ellon a hug. “Thank you again for all of your hard work over the past year.”

“Thank you.” Melpomaen picked up the box and grinned, carrying it carefully out of the office.

Erestor stood proudly in the doorway, watching Melpomaen leave. He decided he would wait until tomorrow to tell Melpomaen about his promotion – after all, a puppy and a kitten were enough excitement for one day.

“Are you busy?”

Erestor gave Glorfindel the oddest look ever. “Am I busy? Let me think.” Erestor looked over the piles of unread or unsigned documents littering his desk. Sitting beside him was Melpomaen, his newly named personal secretary – a job the young elf had taken quite seriously. Things which Erestor had planned to set aside for years if possible were brought to light, and no appointment was postponed or altogether missed due to a conflict. The scribe was busily transcribing a document for Erestor and did not do more than look up and give Glorfindel a smile when the blond had entered. “No, how could I be busy? That is the most bizarre idea that ever I have heard.”

“Oh, good,” Glorfindel responded, ignoring the thick layer of sarcasm that covered Erestor’s words. “Come with me.”

“What? Why?” demanded Erestor when he saw the grin emerge on Glorfindel’s face. “Fin, I have not the time for games.”

“This is no game. Your presence is requested, and I must lead you there,” smirked Glorfindel.

Erestor frowned. “Lead me where?”

“I cannot tell. Now close your eyes and come with me,” Glorfindel instructed.

“This is insane. Melpomaen, tell him I have no time for this.” Erestor pointedly unrolled a scroll and hunched himself over the document.

Clearing his throat, Melpomaen leaned over and whispered to Erestor, who narrowed his eyes at the younger ellon. “Tis true,” Melpomaen apologized. “Your calendar is clear from now until this evening, due to the race later today.”

With a sigh, Erestor stood up. “Very well, but I shall not be led blindly through the house,” he argued.

“Close your eyes, or I shall need to blindfold you,” answered Glorfindel.

Snorting rather indignantly, Erestor closed his eyes. “Fine. But if anything ill comes of this... Melpomaen, ‘tis your fault!” The young elf swallowed hard and looked at Glorfindel with pleading eyes, but Glorfindel returned his look with a smile and a shake of his head. There was no reason for Melpomaen to fret.

Glorfindel tucked Erestor’s arm into his own, and began to lead the advisor through the hallways. He wound them up and down and back around again, hoping to throw his friend off as to where they were going. The entire way, he made pleasant conversation which was answered back with witty or playfully sarcastic remarks. Finally, he came to the main doors and walked them outside and across the main lawn, until they came near to the stables.

"Open your eyes."

"Must I?"

"You will hurt the little lady's feelings if you don't."

With a muffled sigh, Erestor blinked his eyes open to the sunlight. He knew that he had been escorted outside, but did not know quite where Glorfindel had led him. To his left, the blond was smiling; to his right stood Elrond and Elrohir. Elrohir had a most wicked smirk, and it was to him that Erestor looked. "Where are your siblings?" he questioned.

"Uncle Erestor! Over here!" called out Elladan. Erestor looked out over the field before glancing back at Elrohir.

"That is my horse."

"One of them," smiled Elrohir.

Elladan walked the huge dark horse up to the waiting group of elves, with Arwen dancing alongside. "Before you say a thing," began Elladan, "this is not a prank. This was Arwen's idea."

"And the two are not connected?" Erestor muttered under his breath so that only the elf lords on either side of him heard. He stepped forward to the proud horse and looked him up and down. "Morir, you are looking quite... floral today," he said. The horse threw back his head and high stepped his way around the entire group, showing off of the blooms that were woven through his mane and tail.

"My, Erestor, what a queer horse you have," joked Glorfindel with a wink.

With a snort and so only the adults could hear, Erestor replied, "You would know." Glorfindel smirked and blew him a kiss.

"If that means pretty, Uncle Finny, then yes, he is a very queer horse," Arwen said, complimenting her own work.

"I suppose he is going to make the rest of my horses jealous now, will he not?" asked Erestor, patting his lead horse's neck once the steed stopped prancing about.

Arwen shook her head, tugging on her 'uncle's' fingers when she wasn't sure he had seen her. "No, no, he will not, not at all! I fixed all of them like this!" Erestor gave Elrond a worried look, but the tugging on his hand again made him look back to Arwen. "The carriage, too, ‘tis all decorated."

"Oh. That is... very nice of you," he said, "but I have a race this afternoon."

"I know! That is why I did it!" she said gleefully. "All the rest of the horses are always pretty and braided and yours never are. That always makes me sad, and I think it makes you sad, too."

"I do not have the time to make them pretty," Erestor said apologetically.

"But I do!" Arwen shouted with glee. "At the start of every race," she recalled, "each rider has a pretty lady who puts flower wreaths on his horses and hands him a flower and gives him a kiss. I think I can do all of that if El'n'El help lift me up sometimes. You are going to have the prettiest horses in the whole wide world." She tugged on his hand again. "Uncle Erestor, there is something else!" She motioned impatiently to Elrohir, who grinned and stepped around his father, presenting a package to Erestor. "You have to open it," she explained to him, rocking back and forth on her feet.

Erestor carefully unwrapped the package and pulled from the plain paper a beautifully embroidered jerkin like those of the other horsemasters who raced across the lands. The crest of his house was displayed on the left breast of the garment and shone in the sunlight, the three silver stars prominent above the blue waters. "Shall I ask the occasion?" he questioned softly.

Arwen cued her brothers, father, and Uncle Finny in with a wave of her hand. "Happy Begetting Day, Erestor!" shouted the group, and Erestor blushed when some of the other residents of the house looked up from their daily chores at the little group on the lawn.

"Thank you, but as I have said times before, I do not know when that is."

"That is why we decided for you!" Arwen beamed, brimming over with enthusiasm. "Nana said that any day after she finished this, we could do it. She said you liked late spring best, too. It was very hard for us to wait, Uncle Erestor!"

"Listen to you!" laughed Elladan. "It was so difficult for you to wait, not us! We have acquired patience in our old age," he teased.

"Well, so will I," she answered, still fidgeting around. "You should try it on to make sure it fits for the race today," she insisted. "I helped to draw the designs with Papa, and El'n'El dyed the cloth, and Nana sewed it."

Now smiling, Erestor looked at Glorfindel. "And what, pray tell, was your part in all this?"

"They let me pick the day," he answered. "For the most part, it was all little Lady Arwen's idea."

"My lady, I thank you," said Erestor as he lowered himself to one knee. "This may be my 'first' begetting day, but 'tis truly the best," he said, kissing her hand as she giggled.

Erestor knocked quietly on the door, his other arm holding an assortment of items to his chest. He patiently waited for the occupant of the room to either open the door or bid him to enter.

Melpomaen came to the door, but did not bid Erestor in as he usually did. Standing at the entryway with the door only slightly ajar behind him, Melpomaen said, “Erestor, so good to see you. Thank you again for last week, I appreciate everything you did for me.” His hand fiddled with the doorknob as he spoke.

Worry crossed Erestor’s face only briefly. With a smile he said, “You are most welcome. It was due to that as to why I am here. I have a gift for you.” Erestor plucked from the items he held a simple, leather-bound book with gilded pages. “This is for you, a journal for you to write your thoughts.”

“Oh, my! Thank you!” Melpomaen forgot about the knob on the door as he took the journal with both hands and carefully opened the cover. There was an inscription, which made him smile joyfully, and he looked at the next few pages in awe. “This is beautiful. How can I ever write in it?” he asked as he looked over the illuminations that Erestor had drawn of the singing of Creation and the making of Arda around the edges of each page.

“I do hope you will,” Erestor told him. “It would be a shame to have a book sit empty.” Erestor shifted the other things he carried with him and said, “I have some presents for your little friends as well. Have they torn apart your rooms yet?” he grinned.

“Ah.. no, actually, no, they have not.” Melpomaen looked at the book in his hands and closed it and sighed. “Master Erestor, when I said the other night that I had confessed everything, well, sir... that was not entirely true.”

“Oh?” Erestor felt uneasiness in his stomach. He had always feared something like this happening, yet, he tended to have a better feeling as to whom such candidates might be, and never would he have thought of Melpomaen.

The look on Erestor’s face made the young elf cringe, and he reached around with one hand for the knob of the door again. “I am so sorry, and I did not wish to hurt your feelings. I just... I could not take care of both of them. I found her a good home, though, the best home. I have felt simply awful ever since,” he admitted.

Drawing his lips into a straight line, Erestor looked over the young elf. “When you say her-“

“That adorable kitten you gave to me. Please, I am so sorry, Master Erestor. I thought she was so cute, but, aiya, those claws! And the way she made me sneeze, it was truly terrible!” Melpomaen pushed the door in to the room and continued, “She was knocking things onto the floor left and right, and insisted on leaping upon my lap each time I was writing. She even jumped onto my lap as I sat on the chamber pot!” he exclaimed.

Erestor sighed with relief as he entered the room. “Melpomaen, do not worry.” He chuckled now that he was relaxed. “It was, in some ways, wrong of me to place such a heavy burden upon you. I could tell the way you spoke when I gifted them to you that you were not as happy about her as you were about the puppy.”

“Oh, I love him!” Melpomaen looked toward the desk and made some kissy noises. “Tor! Tor!” A little head poked up over the edge of the box that Erestor had originally given to Melpomaen and a moment later, the fluffy white puppy bounded up over the edge, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and tail waggling. “I just adore him! He sleeps on my feet at night, and in the morning, he wakes me up with puppy kisses.” Melpomaen blushed after having admitted this, but added, “He has been so wonderful; he is always waiting for me when I come home, and then we go for a walk, and then he sits beside me while I work – I wish I had had a puppy sooner!”

Smiling happily, Erestor held out a chew toy made of colorful rags wound together into a ring. “Then when he begins to lose his baby teeth and teethe, you will want this around.” He also handed Melpomaen a large beef bone he had smuggled from the kitchens. “Too bare for soup, but just right for a puppy.”

“Thank you,” said Melpomaen as he picked up Tor and held the puppy as Erestor made his way back to the door to leave.

“And Mel?” Erestor reached over and patted the puppy’s head with his free hand. “You did something many others would not have. I can easily see someone just letting that poor kitten go in the wilds or letting her out in one of the barns, but you took the time to find a home for her. You did not hurt my feelings, penneth – indeed, I am quite proud of you.” Melpomaen beamed. “Might I inquire as to her new owner?”

“Lindir fell in love with her the moment he saw her, and she has been with him ever since,” said Melpomaen.

“Excellent. In that case, I have some yarn I must take to him. Good night, Melpomaen,” said Erestor as he left the room.

“Good night, Erestor.” Melpomaen lifted up one of Tor’s front paws and waved it. “Say good night, Tor.” Melpomaen hid his face half behind the puppy and said in a growly sort of voice, “Good night, Erestor.”

Laughing, Erestor waved back. “Good night, Tor.” He closed the door and headed down the hallway to Lindir’s rooms.

“Good morning!” The dual voices of both Elladan and Elrohir caused their mother to turn her head and blink sleepily at the doorway that led into their parents’ rooms. She sat up as she noted that her sons’ hands were carefully balancing trays with steaming food and pitchers and various other items. She nudged her husband, whose snoring abruptly halted with a surprised snort.

“What is all this?” questioned Elrond as the trays were set up before him and his wife on their bed. The pitchers of juice and water were moved to a spot on the nightstand.

Elladan made sure both trays were secure before taking glasses of juice that Elrohir poured and putting them on the trays for his parents. “It is breakfast, father,” replied Elladan matter-of-factly. “I would suggest you start eating – ‘tis a long way from the kitchens, and I would hate for your food to get cold.”

“I need to fetch the fruit,” said Elrohir, leaving the room and heading back down the main corridor.

“Alright, what do you want?” Celebrian took the napkin from her tray and spread it out on her lap as she sat up to better reach the food. Although Elrond still looked at both the tray and their eldest warily, she was not about to waste a delicious breakfast.

Elladan looked hurt. “I do not ‘want’ anything. Well, I suppose it would be nice for you to be happy about our efforts, but other than that it is not as if I am trying to bribe you.”

“What does your brother want?” The question came from both parents at the same time, as Elrond, glancing over to see his wife enjoying her meal, decided to begin on his.

“I want to know whether or not either of you would like any berries.” Elrohir had returned, and was holding out a bowl to them with ripe blueberries and strawberries in it. His father declined, but Celebrian took a handful of them and placed them beside her pancakes.

Elrond set down his fork. “Alright, what did the two of you do now?”

“Do?” Elrohir glanced at Elladan, who shrugged.

Refilling his mother’s glass of juice, Elladan shook his head. “What has the world come to that children cannot do nice things for their parents anymore without being suspect of some mischief?”

“When they are my children, they are always suspect of mischief,” answered Elrond.

“We just thought it would be a nice gesture,” Elrohir said, looking saddened. “Sorry. We shall not do it again.”

“Oh, come here, the both of you.” Celebrian temporarily abandoned her breakfast, setting the tray to the side between her and her husband, and held out her arms to her sons. The twins each took a turn giving their mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you both very much. ‘Tis lovely that you surprised us like this.”

Both of them beamed and Elladan glanced over to their father. Elrond nodded, his mouth full, and swallowed his food. “Yes, thank you.”

“You are both very welcome,” Elladan said, grinning as he and Elrohir left the room.

Celebrian took the tray and placed it back over her lap, then gave Elrond a sideways look. “There is mischief afoot, but I cannot place my finger on it.”

“Yes.. we shall both need to keep an eye on them today,” agreed Elrond.

Out in the hallway, Elladan and Elrohir were quietly snickering and wheezing from laughter long contained. “Oh, my! They really think us up to something now!”

Elrohir nodded with a grin. “You are right, brother. It is quite a lot of fun to make them think we have made trouble when there is none at all!”

“I have a thought,” announced Elrond as Glorfindel and Erestor arrived for the morning meeting. Neither had the chance to even sit down before their lord said, “What if we cancel the meeting today and skip the council session this afternoon?”

Erestor looked quite taken aback. “Shall we reschedule for tomorrow?” he asked, already turning to that page in his planner as he balanced his papers in his arm.

“No, I think we can hold off discussion until next week. Unless there is something vitally important on the agenda, but I saw nothing which cannot wait.” Elrond was himself engaged in another task, with his desk cleared except for a book and a few loose folios for a transcription he was personally attending to.

“I suppose we all have other tasks that we can fill the time with,” agreed Erestor.

Looking up, Elrond shook his head. “I am giving you both the day off. If you wish to spend it locked in your stuffy office, go ahead.” He looked back to his desktop and said, “I would not.”

Glorfindel shrugged and smiled. “Who is to argue with the lord of the valley?”

“A wise decision.” Elrond finished the line he was working on and looked to Glorfindel. “Especially considering the fact we have special guests in the house at this time.” Elrond gave him a wink.

“Oh?” Glorfindel glanced over at Erestor, completely puzzled. Erestor looked just as confused. “Who?”

“No one of importance,” lied Elrond. “He and his company only just wandered in late last night, and I said that when you were free I would send you to him to give him a proper greeting. I am sure my greeting was proper enough, but not nearly as welcome as yours will be.”

“Gildor.” The smile on Glorfindel’s face widened, but then faded once more as he turned his head and saw Erestor, looking out the window and avoiding his gaze. “I... suppose I should... see if he is well...” Glorfindel took a deep breath and made to leave. “Thank you, m’lord.” Elrond gave a nod as Glorfindel left the office.

Erestor let out a long-held breath and ran his fingers back through his hair. “Well. I have work to do.” He straightened his papers as Elrond set his quill aside.

“You do know,” said Elrond just as Erestor had reached the door, “you will either need to convert them both, or get Glorfindel to stop being so promiscuous.”

“Yes, thank you, I do know my own religion.” Erestor bit his lip and bowed his head. “I am sorry, that came out badly.”

Elrond ignored the short outburst. “This one is really important to you,” observed the elf-lord. “Not that it is any less important when you have brought your faith to others, but it means something personal to you to be able to show Glorfindel your way.”

“Yes. And, I know not why, either. He is no less, nor no more special to me than many others here in the valley, and yet I feel in my heart it is most important that I guide him,” explained Erestor.

“I do hope you succeed in your quest,” Elrond finally said.

Erestor nodded and said, “So do I.”

---

Elsewhere in the valley, a joyful reunion was taking place.

“So long... so good to see you again,” murmured Glorfindel as he and Gildor stood in the hallway where the guest rooms were located, holding each other tightly. Glorfindel kissed up the side of Gildor’s neck and nuzzled him.

Gildor sighed and took in Glorfindel’s familiar scent. “I missed you, too. I would invite you in, but this room is so... plain,” he settled on as they stood back, but only a little, still with their arms wrapped around one another.

“Come with me to my rooms then,” offered Glorfindel, leaning forward to steal a kiss from his lover. “You have been away from the valley for far too long, and I promised Elrond that I would give you a proper welcome.”

“Mmm.. I love the hospitality I find in this house,” purred Gildor.

Idle fingers swept a tangled bunch of blond curls out of Glorfindel’s face. “Good morning, darling,” murmured Gildor, pressing a kiss to the other elflord’s cheek.

Glorfindel smiled, turning his head to steal another kiss. “Good- hmm, too late to be morning,” he realized, sitting up. He rubbed his eyelids with the back of his hand.

“Probably,” smirked Gildor, pulling on his lover’s arm as Glorfindel began to rise. The golden haired ellon twisted out of Gildor’s grasp and set his feet on the floor. “Where are you going? Elrond gave you the week off-“

“Yes, but I will be late.” Glorfindel was unsnarling his golden locks as he stood and looking around for his discarded clothing. A fresh shirt was pulled out of the dresser as Gildor sat up, the sheet draped over his legs and lap. “Wear one of the blue ones,” insisted Gildor as Glorfindel began to pull a white shirt over his head. It was traded in an instant for one of sky blue. “Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

“We- uhm, did you want to come with me?” asked Glorfindel hopefully as he buttoned his shirt.

Gildor folded his arms behind his head and leaned back against the headboard. “Where are you going?” he amended when he realized he was not exactly invited.

“You can come, too,” Glorfindel said quickly, sitting down on the edge of the bed so that he could put his leggings on. He tucked in his shirt and then looked over his shoulder and said, “I am sure that no one would mind.”

“Where are you going?” prodded Gildor once more, annoyance creeping into his voice.

Glorfindel opened his mouth, about to answer directly, but closed it, furrowed his brow and then said, “Have you ever heard of the Sedrynerins?”

“Oh, Findé, tell me you are not thinking of joining that lot.” Gildor sighed and shook his head. “They are... practically a cult. All of the praying and the singing instead of having fun, and they would be very disapproving of our relationship. You do know they have a lot of very strange rules that they follow.”

“I know, but... some of it makes sense. I have been reading a book Erestor gave me-“

“Figures he would be one of them,” interrupted Gildor, fluffing up his pillow.

“-and... why do you say that?” demanded Glorfindel.

“Because he is the strange sort of elf I would expect to believe all of that nonsense. But go ahead, if you want to – I suspect there is some sort of cult gathering prayer meeting thing you are going to attend?” asked Gildor.

“No. It is not a cult!” argued Glorfindel gently. “Look, I did not understand until I began reading this,” he said, picking up the large green book that Erestor had loaned to him and setting down beside Gildor. “Now I am curious to know more; I am going to a... well it is a prayer meeting of sorts, but it is not a cult!”

“Of course not. Well, I will remain here. To be honest, I am still tired from the journey. I will not stop you from going, though. In time, I am sure you will come to your senses.” Gildor pushed the book aside to make room again for himself as he slipped beneath the covers.

Glorfindel set out from the house hastily, barely remembering to put on a pair of boots before he left. In passing a few days prior, Erestor had invited him to ‘a gathering, nothing special, just a few of us by the river for singing and scripture’. It was really the first time that the pair had spoken in private since he and Erestor had talked on the ridge of the valley many weeks earlier. The blond elf had made it to the river a week past to see Melpomaen being inducted as a Sedryner. However, he had kept quite a distance, and watched from the safety of a tree.

He was still wary of others who passed them in the halls of the house with their prayer books in hand or who engaged him in conversation at dinner. His conversations with those of other faiths had not done as much to move him as the long talk with Erestor had. Elrond seemly fairly bored with his own beliefs, or at least the ones he claimed to have, once he got into things. Some of those he talked to were not even entirely certain what beliefs they were supposed to have, only that they had been taught enough to get by. There was one thing that was obvious no matter what – no one was as passionate about their religion, except for Erestor and those who followed the same path.

It made Glorfindel feel somewhat unworthy of the faith. He had doubts that he could become as serious about it as the others. On the other hand, he did not have a desire to be part of any of the other groups as he found himself having with the Sedrynerins.

Once every few months, the Sedryners in the house would congregate by the river. Glorfindel had been vaguely aware of this, but it would be the first time he would purposely seek them out. They were easy enough to find, he discovered, milling around the bank and greeting one another happily. As soon as he caught Erestor’s eye, he was waved over and with slight trepidation, Glorfindel approached.

“How are you today, Glorfindel?” Erestor held out his hands and took the younger elf’s into his, holding them tight for a moment. “I do hope you are well.”

“Ahhm... thank you, yes, I am. How are you?” Glorfindel hoped no one else could hear the fear in his voice or see it in his eyes. He began to catch snippets of conversation from others nearby that mentioned his name and looked down to the grass when he saw someone practically staring at him.

“Eru has blessed us with a fine day. I am well and among friends; my day has already been wonderful.” Erestor let go and put an arm around Glorfindel’s shoulder, leading him off a little ways from the main area. “Truly, are you well? I can feel your apprehension.”

“That bad?” Glorfindel tried to chuckle, but it came out uneasily. “Are you sure it is alright I am here?”

“Yes. You are nervous, and some are curious that you are here. It is a natural response from both parties involved. None of us bite, and no one will attempt to sway you in a direction you do not wish to go. You are a guest here; worry not,” Erestor said comfortingly. He paused and then asked, “How is Gildor?”

Glorfindel shrugged and looked over at the crystal blue waters that flowed silently past. “He is alright. He was doing better last night, I think. This morning I upset him. He sounded a little jealous of the fact I was coming here instead of staying with him.”

Erestor pondered this for a moment. “Do you think he wanted to join you here?”

“No.” Glorfindel was slightly surprised that there was no hopefulness in Erestor’s question, only an air of neutrality which was usually used to mask his true feelings. “He... he seems rather to not like your religion somewhat,” Glorfindel said carefully.

“We tend to get that quite a lot more than you may think,” Erestor said with a rueful smile. “Come, we are about to begin and there is a spot beneath a tree that would be perfect for listening to the readings.”

Glorfindel found himself led over the grass to a tree near the river. The trunk was so large that both he and Erestor could sit with their backs against it and still both face the spot where the leaders would be. Various elves took turns reading stories from a book that looked similar to the one that Erestor had lent to Glorfindel, and in between others would sing and encourage those present to sing as well.

Most of the time, Glorfindel silently listened and observed. Every now and then, he picked up on the words of a song and would join the others. At the end it was asked of those present how many planned to attend the next session. Without putting much thought into it, Glorfindel had raised his hand before Erestor had lifted his into the air.

As others started back for the house, Erestor turned to Glorfindel. “I am sorry that Gildor is upset with you,” he said, “but I am very happy you decided to come today.”

Smiling, Glorfindel said, “So am I.”

“I thought we would regale you with a night of dancing, m’lord. After all, ‘twill be the eve of one of our most celebrated holidays. Unless, of course, it would cause offense.” Gildor was careful not to look in Erestor’s direction as he said this.

Elrond turned to his advisor anyway. “I think... a dance would be splendid.” He left it at that, giving Erestor the ability to respond as he chose to.

The counselor frowned and shook his head, but answered with, “There is no harm in dancing.”

“I meant, due to the fact it was on the eve of the Tarnin Austa.” Gildor leaned against the frame of the doorway leading into Elrond’s office. “Some might find it a little disturbing to attend such a celebration.”

“Just because you will be attending and celebrating for your own reasons does not mean that I cannot attend and enjoy the dancing and camaraderie regardless of the day holding no meaning for me.” Erestor cleared his throat and said, “Perhaps you should not be asking me if I will be upset by your choice of day, but someone else in this room.”

“Hmm? Oh.” Nearly missing his cue, Glorfindel sat with his hands folded and stared at them for a bit. “I would not want to ruin things on account of my own silliness. Just because I hate the day does not mean that it should be spoiled for everyone else.”

“I am sure that Gildor would be most accommodating and choose a different date if you so wished,” said Elrond gently.

Glorfindel shook his head. “No. I have not wanted special treatment of any sort in this life; please, have your celebration. I only apologize now that I may not be very jolly.”

“You would not have to attend,” suggested Erestor.

Gildor took a step into the room, giving a little sigh that was directed to Erestor. “I had hoped that perhaps this would help to rid you of the idea that there is a curse upon your head.”

“Maybe.” Glorfindel absently cracked the knuckles of one hand, and then of the other. “I suppose.”

“Good! With your permission then, Lord Elrond?” Gildor placed his hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The blond reached up and patted his lover’s hand with a smile.

“Erestor, would you work out a menu between Gildor and the kitchen staff? Be sure we have enough wine for the occasion, and if not, we shall need to make haste in order to obtain it in time,” instructed Elrond. “Will you be able to organize music, Gildor, or shall we?”

“We have our own musicians, m’lord. Your generosity, as always, exceeds necessity.” Gildor bowed low, and Elrond waved it off. “I will provide the entertainment, but those of my followers who are hunters would of course lend themselves to your service in order to capture the food for the feast. We are also more than capable of handling the décor.”

“No doubt. I think this will be wonderful fun,” decided Elrond as Gildor bowed once again and left the office.

As soon as he was gone, Erestor sighed. “I will try to get those reports completed for you by tomorrow, Elrond. I have a feeling my hands will be full this coming week.”

“Let the reports wait – I think we could all use a good celebration. Glorfindel, I am sure you can manage coordinating between Gildor’s hunters and Erestor with the kitchen staff to be sure we have the appropriate amount of food?” asked Elrond.

“Of course. If you have time now,” said Glorfindel to Erestor, “we could go to the kitchen and speak with the staff before they are busy with the midday meal.”

Closing his book of notes, Erestor stacked his papers and stood up, not wanting to argue with anyone that this was the third weekly meeting that they had either skipped or left unfinished. “Splendid,” he said, though he did not quite mean this.

Walking down the hallway with matching speed – for although Erestor had a longer stride, Glorfindel was faster – the younger elf reached out and stopped the elder by touching his shoulder just as they reached the top of the stairway. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing.” He bowed his head and turned it aside, furrowing his brow. “No offense to your Gildor, but there are times that he just does not think.”

“Oh?” Glorfindel bit his lip, realizing how unconvincing his ‘surprise’ had sounded, and added, “Well, yes, I know.”

“I am sure he means nothing personal,” remarked Erestor (though again, he did not quite sound as if he meant the words), “but it does upset me that he chose to suggest this celebration, and Elrond is aware it vexes me, but of course I have to be the perfect bloody diplomat about it.”

Resting his hand upon Erestor’s shoulder, Glorfindel asked, “Why does a dance the night before Tarnin Austa upset you so?” He was certain he had some idea of the answer already.

“Many reasons. The most important being that that night, many many many hundreds of years ago, was the last time I saw so many who were dear to me. And although you stand here with me now, it does not make that day any easier for me. I still think of the others – Ecthelion, Rog, even Turgon and why I know not but even Salgant. So much was lost, least of all the bricks and mortar that made up Gondolin herself.” Erestor’s dark eyes could not meet Glorfindel’s sympathetic blue ones. “It is also due to the fact that the Valabronwin celebrate it as a ‘holy day’. They think of it as the night that Eru forsook them and took Gondolin down; the night that it was proven he did not exist, for else he would have saved them. The very day also happens to match with the day Feanor died, or so they say. I was not privy to that event.”

“You should have said something,” Glorfindel told him. “I myself would rather it be planned for a different day.”

Erestor crossed his arms over his chest. “Well... we should just change it then.”

Glorfindel turned around to head back to Elrond’s office. When Erestor demanded where he was going and was told, he shook his head and led the blond back to their office. Glorfindel could not help but notice the wicked grin on Erestor’s face.

- - -

“So... why are we having the celebration a week late?” Elrond asked again, looking from one advisor to the other.

“Simple math,” stated Glorfindel. “We have, right now, only eighty-four bottles of red wine. No one likes to drink white wine at this sort of debaucherous affair.”

“There will be no debauchery going on,” interjected Elrond, but Glorfindel just continued speaking.

“Obviously, at least half of the guests will be attempting to get intoxicated. Since seventy-five percent of the inhabitants of the valley are elf-kind, that means that we need to account for thirty-eight percent of the members of the household and of Gildor’s party wanting to drink at least eight to ten glasses of wine. Now, you tend to have twenty percent who want to get really drunk, so we have to figure for eighty percent wishing to drink three bottles or more. With the current population-“

“We need more wine.” Erestor smiled after butting in and said, “Simply math.”

Elrond sat and blinked for a moment and then just waved them off with a flick of his wrist. “Fine. Another week. But be sure you count me among those who plan to drink at least three bottles of wine!”

“For you, we figured four,” managed Glorfindel before he was yanked from the room into the hallway.

“Very nice,” complimented Erestor once he and Glorfindel were back in their own office. “Not that I understood a word you were saying, but I compliment you all the same.”

Glorfindel grinned and then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “So... how long do you think we have to keep that stuff hidden?” wondered the blond elf.

Erestor stood up and went to the closet, opening the door carefully. Where once there were stacks of parchment and boxes of quills there were now cases and cases of smuggled wine. “We... could just drink it,” considered Erestor.

“Come to think of it, I could use a drink,” admitted Glorfindel, who was a little frightened that Elrond might question why the stock was so low to begin with. “Do we have any glasses?” he asked as Erestor approached with two of the bottles.

“Glasses? Who needs glasses?” He pulled the cork out of his bottle while Glorfindel repeated the action with his. “To us and our sneakiness!” he announced as he clinked his bottle against the warrior’s.

“Yes, to us,” chuckled Glorfindel, although, he wished it meant something a little different.

When Glorfindel entered his room, his expression softened and his lips turned up into a smile. “What is all this?” he wondered out loud as Gildor came around the corner wearing the slayer’s bathrobe. In the main room, a multitude of candles had been lit and upon the table was a tray of strawberries, sliced and sprinkled with brown sugar. Glorfindel plucked one of the pieces from the bowl, but was stopped by Gildor.

“Ah, ah, ah,” scolded the traveler gently. “Allow me.” Bending his head down, the silver-blond elf took the strawberry into his mouth, sucking on Glorfindel’s fingers as he did so. Then he stood back up and wrapped one hand behind Glorfindel’s neck and the other around his lover’s waist. Their lips met, and with mouths parted, Glorfindel tasted the sticky sweetness of the sugar-coated berry as it slid into his mouth. He shuddered as Gildor’s tongue lingered, tracing patterns before they broke their kiss.

“You outdid yourself,” said Glorfindel as he took his room and noticed the rose petals strewn over the bed sheets. They were golden and peach in hue, but appeared darker in the dim light. “What did I do to deserve this?” he questioned as his arms circled behind Gildor to draw him into an embrace.

“I needed a way to apologize to you,” explained Gildor. “It was inconsiderate of me to think that you would want to celebrate on the anniversary of... enough about that, though,” he said. “I thought we could have a nice evening alone, if that was alright with you.” He lifted up another strawberry, and teased Glorfindel’s lips with it, before popping it into his own mouth.

“I would enjoy that very much,” murmured Glorfindel against Gildor’s cheek as he licked the strawberry’s juices from his lips and then kissed his neck.

With a returned purr, Gildor said, “Oh, I am sure you will.” After feeding Glorfindel most of the strawberries from the bowl, Gildor led him to the bed. “Lose the clothing, Golden-locks.”

With a snort and a cheeky grin, Glorfindel stripped bare in a matter of seconds. “Now you,” he insisted, pulling the belt to loosen the robe. It slid off of Gildor’s shoulders and pooled on the floor. “Still too much clothing,” argued Glorfindel, tugging on Gildor’s leggings.

“Not yet.” Gildor pulled Glorfindel to the bed and positioned him on his stomach. “Comfortable?” he asked after having fluffed up the pillow.

Glorfindel watched as Gildor reached for a bottle from the nightstand. The cork was removed, and oil was poured into the wandering elf’s hand to be warmed. “Should I be?” Although they were lovers, they had yet to take the final step to consummate their relationship. Now with his recent interest in religious studies, Glorfindel was more apprehensive than ever to be in the compromising position he found himself.

Gildor rubbed his hands together and then crawled up beside Glorfindel, bending his head to lick the tip of a sensitive ear. “I hope so. You have been so tense lately; I wanted to give you a good long rub. I thought you might fancy a massage.”

“Mmm... yes, that would be lovely,” drawled Glorfindel, stretching his legs out to try to loosen up his body.

“What did you think I was going to do?”

“Uhmm...” Glorfindel’s face turned beat red and Gildor sat back up.

“Nevermind. Just close your eyes and relax,” Gildor said, picking up the bottle from the table again. He dribbled the oil over Glorfindel’s back. The golden haired ellon squirmed at the sudden cold, but was soon warmed up by Gildor’s remarkably dexterous hands. Firm fingers worked their way down one leg to massage his foot, then back up again and down the other. Gildor’s hands lingered as they gripped Glorfindel’s rear before continuing up again to his shoulders. Tenderly his sore, tired body was kneaded and relaxed, making him moan in deep satisfaction.

“Turn over, lover,” coaxed Gildor once he had covered every part he was able to reach. When he received no reaction, he poked Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Findé, you did not fall asleep, did you?” Gildor smiled and crossed the room, picking up a quilt. “Poor, tired elf,” he mumbled, covering Glorfindel before pressing a kiss to the blond’s head. “I suppose I shall need to find some other entertainment for the rest of the evening,” he whispered before blowing out all but one of the candles and leaving the room.

The lord of the valley was drunk. Drunk, and quite amusing. Some might say later that he provided the best entertainment of all.

Although Erestor and Glorfindel had managed to covertly push the festivities ahead a week, it turned out to be for the best. The cook was put off at the idea of having to arrange for a special feast with so little lead time, and the musicians of the house were in a funk over the idea of being left out of the party planning. Erestor complained more than once (but never directly to Elrond) that he had a score of more important things to do, and Glorfindel simply spent his time attempting to keep the peace between all individuals involved.

The event itself proved to be a delight, even with the Valabronwin declaring it a late celebration of the eve of Tarnin Austa. If anyone was concerned about this, they did not speak about it, and surely they all still had a remarkably wonderful time. The singing, dancing, and feasting was all perfect – and then, there was the wine.

The wine had been procured not from the nearest city of men, nor from elvenkind. It came, along with many barrels of good ale, from a small colony of dwarves that Gildor knew of because of his travels. The price was much better than if they would have gone elsewhere, and the taste according to Gildor was superb. No argument had come from Erestor (who was known to prefer beer to wine and was happy about the ale), and Glorfindel was too busy playing peacekeeper to give the idea much thought.

It was only after Elrond had finished three glasses, then playfully grabbed his wife’s posterior in public with a feral growl that the advisors began to rethink the plan. “I never thought about how he would react to the strength of the wine,” murmured Erestor under his breath as Elrond sat down on one of the benches, pulling a startled Celebrian down on his lap. “Apparently his ‘no debauchery’ rule does not apply to him.”

“Do you think he still plans to drink four bottles of wine?” Glorfindel asked.

“Ah, you managed to get father drunk, I see,” said Elladan, suddenly walking up behind the pair. Placing an arm around each of them, he looked from one to the other, nodding his head. “Very nice. This is going to be the best entertainment of the night.”

“Only if he keeps drinking.” Elrohir approached as well and said, “It wears off of him pretty quick. We found out long ago, unless you keep him drinking he manages to flush it out of his system fast. Of course, if it wears off here, chances are he will be furious that anyone let him get to this point to begin with.” He turned his head, looking to each of the elder elves in turn. “Then again, if he stays drunk all night and gets back to his room to sleep it off, the chances are very good he will remember very little of it tomorrow morning.”

“Erestor,” sighed Glorfindel, “we had best go over and stop him.”

Nodding, Erestor said, “You are absolutely right. He should be drinking right now, not fondling his wife.” Picking up a full bottle from the nearest table, Erestor headed for the intoxicated elf-lord.

And that was how Elrond came to be sitting on a bench he could barely keep from falling off of with a bottle of wine in his hand, ruddy red cheeks, and a smile that was split from ear to ear. “I remember all of the times that I would sneak off to Lothlorien to woo Celebrian. Sometimes, I made it in without any of the guards seeing me and would spend the entire time hidden in her rooms. Not that we ever did anything inappropriate,” Elrond assured his captive audience, but then he smirked and rolled his eyes and followed that with, “Alright, that is a lie, but let us not tell her parents about that.”

Elladan cocked one brow high as he squinted his other eye and turned to give his brother a most amused look. “Your secret is safe with us, Ada,” he mumbled, nudging Elrohir, who was hiding his mouth with a napkin and managed to nod after wiping the tears from his eyes. “Tell us, what other mischief did an elf such as yourself cause?”

“I cause no trouble.” Elrond lifted the bottle to his lips and drank deeply again, chuckling and spilling some as he placed the bottle onto the bench beside him and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt- a shirt that was oh, so luckily, burgundy in color. “Alright, alright, that is a lie as well.” He snorted and chuckled at some private joke while Celebrian, keeping a safe distance away from the group, gave her husband’s chief advisors a withering look.

Waiting until neither Elrond nor Celebrian was watching, Erestor stealthily swapped the almost empty bottle for a full one that he had kept hidden off to the side. When Elrond picked up the bottle again, he nearly dropped it. “This cannot be mine,” he reasoned with a slur in his voice, “mine was practically drained.”

“You must be tired, m’lord,” spoke Glorfindel, looking away from the bonfire where Gildor danced around it wantonly with others of his traveling kingdom. “Surely, the bottle only appears to be heavier than you think it is.”

“Sure.” Elrond seemed to need no solid evidence of this, taking the word of his seneschal as he lifted the wine and drank once again. “My, this is delicious. I hope I am not overindulging- how many of these have I had?” he wondered aloud.

“Three,” said Elrohir as his brother said, “Two.” The twins glanced at one another in a panic, and as their father began to examine the bottle again, Elladan amended, “You have had two full bottles already – that is the third one you are starting right now.”

Elrond’s mind was already occupied elsewhere. “That is spectacular – I should have a go at that,” he said, and stood up to walk to the smaller rings of fire where elves were jumping forth and back over the flames individually or in pairs.

Immediately, Erestor was on his feet as well. “I would really suggest against it, m’lord.”

“Elrond, have you had dessert yet?” Glorfindel put his arm around the elf-lord’s shoulder and tried to steer him in the opposite direction. “The kitchen staff has outdone themselves – come, try the cheesecake.”

“Ullch.” Elrond gave Glorfindel a look of disgust. “Cheesecake is about the most unhealthiest thing you can eat! Do you know what is in it? Nothing but fat and sugar and lard. No wonder you are putting on weight,” he remarked, glancing at Glorfindel’s middle as the balrog slayer’s jaw dropped.

Elrond received no resistance as he turned and made his way once again to the elves leaping over the flames. “Fin, come on, you have to help me!” insisted Erestor, for the twins were now happily leading their father to the bonfires and encouraging his plan, giving him more wine as they walked. Celebrian had become distracted, and the twin peredhel were careful to avoid a path that would take them near their mother.

“Absolutely not. Let him burn, see if I care. He just insinuated that I am fat!” Glorfindel crossed his arms over his chest, and then peaked down at his waistline, frowning. Perhaps he did put a few extra pounds on while he was off duty here at the house, but he more than worked them off during his tours on the border.

“We have already been over this,” Erestor said quickly. “He is the one who is fat, and you are just--” Erestor bit his bottom lip at once, and sheepishly grinned. “Nevermind. I have to save Elrond,” he announced as he sped away.

“Well, that is a fine thank you for letting you hide underneath the desk! And I am just what, exactly?” shouted Glorfindel, glaring after Erestor. The dark elf turned around and shrugged with a grin before heading once more after Elrond and his sons.

“If we do not leave now, we will not make our destination in time to set up a proper winter camp and hunt for what we need,” apologized Gildor. He took hold of Glorfindel’s face in his hands and tilted it up so that they were looking at one another. “I cannot overstay our welcome.”

“You were only here a few weeks. Stay the winter,” suggested Glorfindel, but Gildor was already shaking his head and laughing.

“You sometimes forget that this is not your house,” Gildor reminded Glorfindel in a low voice. “Now, if this was your realm, I would not argue with you. In fact, I would consider making myself a permanent resident,” he said with a smile.

Glorfindel smiled back but did not say anything. No one seemed to realize that he did not want the stress and responsibility of his own realm, even though he easily could have founded an elven stronghold of his own long ago. Since his return, Gildor had repeatedly suggested the idea, but Glorfindel had managed to avoid it every time. Lifting his hands up, Glorfindel gently threaded his fingers through the woven ropes weathered silver-gold hair, tied back in tight braids for traveling, and came forward to kiss his lover. “Take care of yourself, love. Safe journey to you.”

“Be safe. I will see you again in a year or two, Findé. Maybe sooner.” Gildor reciprocated and kissed Glorfindel back. “Tell me something before I leave – are you very serious about this religious thing?”

“I have been thinking about it a lot,” admitted Glorfindel. “Why?”

“I am curious,” said Gildor. “If you had to choose today, what would you decide?”

“I...” Glorfindel shook his head. “I cannot answer that. I am sorry.”

“Good.” Gildor kissed his lover again, then dropped his hands to his sides. “Perhaps you might decide some day to dance with me around the fires before Tarnin Austa.”

“Perhaps,” answered Glorfindel, but in his heart he had doubts of this. “Perhaps you might decide some day to come with me to the river to sing and pray.”

Gildor hesitated longer before he finally said, “Perhaps.”

This made Glorfindel smile and he drew Gildor into his arms. “That would make me so happy if you did. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“I will miss you.” Gildor kissed Glorfindel one final time before mounting his speckled grey mare. “Lord Elrond,” he shouted across the lawn to the elf-lord who stood with his wife and children some ways away admiring one of the gaily painted wagons of the caravan and the jewels set within. Elrond stood straight and tilted his head to show he was listening. “My people and I thank you again for your generous hospitality! Until we meet again, may Elbereth bless your way. Namarie!”

“Namarie, good friend, until we meet again!” called Elrond back, picking up little Arwen so that she could be seen waving to the departing elves. Glorfindel took a deep breath and stepped away from the gypsy elves as they left the courtyard and proceeded down the path to the main way out of the valley.

Silent as a shadow, Erestor suddenly made his presence known. “You wish sometimes that you were going with them.”

“I...” Glorfindel waved and blew a kiss to Gildor as the elf-lord turned his mount around to check on the progress of those near the rear of the group. Gildor caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and gave Glorfindel a bit of a wave with his hand before attending to his followers once again. “I used to.” Glorfindel took in Erestor’s slightly surprised expression. “Each time they leave, I consider going to the stables and leaping on Asfaloth and riding out after them.”

“And yet you have not,” observed Erestor quietly.

Glorfindel watched as the caravan continued to retreat from the house. “Something I have come to realize,” said Glorfindel, “is that, although he and I may be lovers...” Glorfindel nodded in the direction of the wanders, not knowing quite where Gildor was in the pack now, “...you and Elrond and Celebrian and the children, Lin and Mel included, are my family. And this,” he said, turning around to look at the house, “is my home.”

Erestor had to turn away for a moment so that he could secretly wipe away a straying tear from the corner of his eye.

“I am bored, I am bored, I am bored, I am bored, I am bored,” Arwen said, repeating her mantra over and over again to her brothers as the three walked down the main stairway of the house.

That morning at breakfast, the twins had been asked to watch their sister for the day, for their mother had business to attend to, as did their father, and the nanny had taken a month’s leave. Elrohir had suggested that they could simply lock her in a closet for the duration of the day so that they did not lose her; Elladan’s idea had not been nearly as nice. They were reminded, as so often they were, that neither was too big for their father to put over his knee if anything should happen to Arwen. Further instruction was then given that they were not allowed to leave the house, just in case they got an idea in their head to leave her in a tree or nudge her into the river.

After suggesting numerous games that Arwen declined interest in and offering to take her to the Hall of Fire to listen to the minstrels practice, the twins began to aimlessly wander about the house with her in tow. Their hope was that she would become tired and want a nap. Instead, they succeeded only in making her cranky.

“Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored- wait!” Arwen stopped abruptly, nearly tumbling down the stairs. “We cannot go down here!”

“Why not?” asked Elladan, pulling a candle from the holder on the wall. “This is part of the house, too.”

Arwen whined and held onto the door with one hand while she wrapped the other around Elrohir’s leg. “Noo-oooo... it is too dark! And there are spiders.”

“And creeps and crawlies, too,” added Elrohir with delight as he, too, took one of the candles. He managed to free himself from Arwen’s grasp as he took a step down into the basement.

“I do not want to go down there!” she shouted as Elladan walked past.

“You had better hurry, then,” called Elladan over his shoulder. “Nana said you had to stay with us, and we are going into the basement.”

“Mmmmmnnnhhhhnnnn... you cannot leave me here!” protested Arwen as Elladan continued to disappear into the dark depths as Elrohir had. “I am so little!”

“Then come on!” yelled Elrohir from the darkness.

Taking a deep breath, Arwen mustered all of her courage and boldly took a few steps forward. The basement door swung shut behind her with a loud bang, and she let out a little scream and raced down the steps until she knocked into Elladan. She clung to his arm as they walked to the bottom of the stairs.

“Fraidycat,” remarked Elrohir as he held out his candle to get a better look around. Arwen grunted and lunged forward to hit him, but Elladan held her back. “Look at all this cool old stuff,” he said, wandering past broken, forgotten furniture and dull shields and armor that were too rusted to be of use. Lining the little rooms that made up the basement were smaller areas divided off into closet-sized compartments. These were constructed using old boards and a few nails, and each of them had a little door that was secured with a latch and a lock. Some of the locks had rusted shut, while some had failed and fallen open. A few looked well cared for, and the trio began to look for the spots where the locks had opened.

“How about this one?” she asked, pointing out another that they came to with a broken lock.

Elladan shook his head. “He died in the last war. I do not think it is right to go in there,” he said. In fact, all of the lockers they had passed had names on them of those long departed to the Halls of Mandos. The twins solemnly walked past the rows of musty cells of long-forgotten and never-claimed items with Arwen right behind them until they came to a break and another set of rooms.

These rooms had been cleaned recently and there was no smell of mildew. All of the little cells looked more uniform and some had planks which had been replaced, not doubt when the originals had cracked or splintered. It was among these that they found one halfway through with Glorfindel’s name on it.

“Too bad it is locked,” said Arwen as Elladan scouted around on the floor.

“Wenny, do you have any pins in your hair?” asked Elrohir sweetly.

“Can’t have ‘em,” she said immediately, covering her head.

Elladan dropped down to her level. “I thought you were bored.”

“Yes,” she nodded, still covering her head.

“If you want to be unbored, then we need one of the pins that Nana put in your hair this morning,” he explained.

With a deep frown, Arwen pulled out one of the shiny metal pieces and was almost disappointed when it did not cause her dark curls to bound out of their places so that she could scold her brothers. Elladan grinned and patted her on the back, then approached the lock and in record time was opening the door to Glorfindel’s locker.

Inside were rows and rows of wooden crates, all of them tall and wide, but very thin. “What do you suppose he is keeping in here?” wondered Elrohir as they three walked inside.

“No way to find out unless we look.” Elladan handed his candle to Arwen with directions for her to be steady with it before pulling the nearest crate forward and unlatching the side. From within, he pulled a finely detailed oil painting. “I wonder if these are all paintings that he acquired. I never knew he had such an eye for art.”

“El, look at the bottom corner.” Elrohir pointed to the signature. “Now I wonder, are these all his?”

“If they are why did he never tell anyone what a great painter he is?” Elladan opened another, removing a painting, again using oils, showing a sunset and a lake. On the shore stood a lone elf, and though the trees, clouds, and fading of the day all reflected in the water, the figure of the elf did not. “He is really good,” decided Elladan as they looked at more and more of the blond warrior’s works. “Not just pretty pictures, either. There is a story hidden in each one.”

“He was a good painter, at least. Look at the dates, El. All before the war.” Elrohir began the task of putting the paintings away that his brother had been taking out of their places, but Elladan stopped him.

Holding up one of the paintings that Arwen had oooed and ahhed about, Elladan said, “Do you know what would be fun today? We should hold an art show and show these to everyone.”

“Uhm, El? Maybe he does not want anyone to see these,” said Elrohir.

Picking up a portrait that had without a doubt been painted of Erestor holding a dove in his hands, Elladan said, “Look at the fine detail of this. Look at the painstaking work that went into this painting. Now, he signed his name on these, and he did not have them destroyed. I think he just never had anyone to really show them to. And how many paintings can someone hang in their suite anyhow?”

“I like this one,” added Arwen, pointing to another with a pair of horses, one black and one speckled with a golden mane nuzzling one another. Elladan tilted his head and waited for Elrohir’s reply.

“Fine. But if he gets mad, I am not to be blamed for this.” Stepping outside of the little room, Elrohir said, “I thought that father told us once that he fancied being a potter.”

“That he did. Why?” asked Elladan, gathering the paintings he deemed the best of the best.

“I was thinking that perhaps he had a storage space like this one and maybe he was keeping some of his pottery in it,” Elrohir explained. The flame of his candle faded out of sight and a few minutes later Elladan and Arwen heard their brother calling from somewhere nearby. “Look what I found,” he said excitedly, holding his candle up to the nameplate.

“This is not father’s area,” said Elladan with a deep frown as Elrohir begged another hairpin from Arwen. “Glorfindel may get angry, that I will admit, but Erestor will likely kill us if we invade his privacy.”

Either Elrohir was ignoring his brother or did not hear due to being deep in concentration while working on the lock. When it sprang open, he grinned and unhooked it, leading his siblings into the tidy but stuffed unit. “So many boxes... I would not even know where to begin.”

“I think we should skip all of the ones that were for his horses,” decided Elladan after further inspection. Most of the crates had the name of a now deceased race horse on a card glued to the wood. The crates were not solid, and within the twins and Arwen could see folded blankets, bridles, and other such items that must have belonged only to that individual equine. “It’s like his own private horse mausoleum,” whispered the eldest to his brother when he found that each of the boxes also contained a decorative, sealed urn.

“What are these?” Arwen pulled a sealed map case off of a shelf where many others were stacked and righted it, finding it taller than herself.

“Let me take a look, Wenny.” Elrohir helped his sister with the case and unwound the cord at the top to open the canister. He carefully removed what he thought was a large scroll, but it turned out to be a roll of paper around a linen cloth that was secured at both ends with a long wooden rod. When they spread it out, they found written upon it was a short poem. It was titled ‘Unforgettable’, and the words themselves were art, written in large characters and lovingly brushed onto the fabric with different colored dyes.


Namarie

The Great Farewell

The Closing of a Door

Namarie

But Who Can Tell

If This Really Means No More

Once I thought that passing away meant one was passing on

Though I wonder through the day if you are really gone

Are you sleeping or awake? Do tears fall from your eyes?

Are you simply drifting free, waiting for your grand reprise?

Will I see you on these shores, or when I sail to Valinor

Will you greet me on that land, will you ever understand

The sacrifice I know you made, for as time passes my hopes fade

To touch your hand, to kiss your brow, a million gestures that seem so small

A million chances gone, lost to fate, a million times I’ve seen you fall

In waking time and dark of night, in dreams that haunt me with such fright

But the worst nightmare of all of them is for me to never see you again

I think of you, hold your memories dear, and wish one day for you to be near

For things to be like they should have been, but for now I wait, and until then

I hope and pray

There will come a day

But for now all I can say is

Namarie


“I don’t get it,” said Arwen as she looked at confusion to her brothers, who were both sniffling and wiping their noses and eyes on their sleeves.

“It is a sad/happy sort of poem... poems can be hard to understand,” Elladan finally said in answer. He began to help his brother roll the scroll.

Arwen pulled away the case before they could put it back. “If we are having an art show, we should have this in it, too.”

“This might be a little too personal,” Elrohir tried to explain, but Arwen was not about to take no for an answer.

“Nana says a picture is worth a thousand words. This poem maybe has two or four hundred, but no more than that.”

Taking the case from Arwen, Elladan sighed. “If we are stepping into it, El, we might as well step in with both feet. We need to keep this safe, though, Wenny,” he explained as he slid the poem back into the case. “I am putting you in charge of carrying it. Now, let us go and find Ada’s stuff.”

Finding their father’s pottery proved to be fairly easy, and after selecting their favorite pieces, the trio of rogues made their way back through the maze of rooms to collect their treasures. They made plans to set up their gallery in the Hall of Fire, and smuggled the items with Lindir’s help to the large, open room. The musicians delighted in the idea and planned music around what would be where. The paintings were leaned against walls or propped up on easels that were brought from the art classroom, while for the first time some tables were set in the hall for the pottery to be displayed upon. The large scroll was rigged at the entryway, so that those coming into the room would need to walk one way or the other around Erestor’s masterpiece to reach the rest of the artwork.

---

“Melpomaen!” The secretary turned on his heel upon hearing his name and waited for his employer to catch up. “I was wondering if you had plans for the evening – I am trying to find a challenger for chess.”

Cocking his head to the side, Melpomaen asked, “I thought you would be going to the gallery showing. That is where I am headed.”

“Oh, I had no idea there was a show tonight,” answered Erestor, for normally some part of the library was used for exhibitions. “Where is it being held?”

“The... Hall of... Fire,” said Melpomaen cautiously. Then he added, “I would have thought you would have known about it, considering your work is in it.”

“My what?” Erestor’s face fell. “What work?”

“Uh, your poem. The ‘Centerpiece of the Event’ was what the poster said,” Melpomaen told Erestor nervously. “Maybe I understood incorrectly,” he apologized. “It must have been some other poet. I hope you find someone for chess,” he added as he hurried off.

Looking quite befuddled, Erestor followed in the same direction toward hall, passing some who were speaking to one another with excitement about going, and others who gave him a sympathetic look. When he arrived, it took a few minutes to actually get into the room, for the crowd at the door was inordinately large.

Once he did enter, it took the dark elf a moment to place the cloth that was displayed near the entrance. Upon realizing what it was, he panicked and looked around the side of the poetry to see if he could spy a certain blond-haired ex-Gondolin elf in the crowd. When he turned back, he easily found him, for Glorfindel had seen Erestor and silently followed him down the hallway and into the room.

Now he was standing before the cloth, slowly reading the words. Erestor doubted that any mistake would be made in identifying the subject of the poem, for twined around the letters of the title were garlands woven of ivy and golden roses. He held his breath as Glorfindel’s eyes flicked suddenly over to him and then back to the poem.

Glorfindel continued to stand at the entryway, rereading the poem. Feeling a little odd about standing in the way of others, Erestor walked into the gallery. Clustered here and there were groups of elves and men complimenting the style and composition of the works. Elrond was discussing something with his children, pointing to things on a piece of what Erestor recognized was the elf-lord’s pottery. The dark elf began to suspect the culprits behind the impromptu art show. How they had come to find that particular poem that hung at the beginning he did not know, but now he perused the rest of the room as he now and again looked nervously back to where Glorfindel was standing.

The pottery was something that Erestor had seen before and was not terribly interesting to him. On the other hand, the paintings were something new. They were also something he did not know even existed. Each was completed over a period of a year or more from what he could tell, and none of them were average, ordinary landscapes or still-lifes.

An eagle, flying against the wind, with its head turned up and looking to the heavens, wings about to break from the strain. Fields that appeared at a distance to be filled with yellow flowers, but closer turned out to be skulls and bones. Some of the images were jarring, while others were insightful. The one that stood out to Erestor was the one of himself.

He felt the other elf approach before he saw him. “Is... is this supposed to be us?” Erestor turned his head to see if his interpretation was correct. Glorfindel, his eyes now red, just nodded. Erestor reached out and stepped closer to close the distance. Taking hold of Glorfindel’s hand, he said, “It... says a lot.” In the painting, the dark elf had his eyes on the bird in his hands, and the dove in turn was watching the elf. Erestor noticed that one of the bird’s wings was injured, but that instead of panicking or trying to flee as many wild animals would, the dove was nestled quietly, his head resting against the elf’s hands.

“I thought a few times about giving this one to you,” admitted Glorfindel. “I thought you would think it stupid, though, or not like it. So I just hid it in the basement with the others.”

“I wish you had not hidden it,” said Erestor. “You may not realize it, but you have a marvelous talent.”

“So do you,” countered Glorfindel. “You have a way with words.”

“I wanted to show that to you when you came back,” admitted the dark elf, “but it never seemed the right time for it.”

Glorfindel smiled and closed the gap between them a little more. “Fate is funny, is it not?”

“When this is over, may we hang some of your paintings in our office?” asked Erestor. He nodded to the one before them. “Including this one?”

“On one condition,” agreed Glorfindel.

Erestor tilted his head. “What is that?”

“Only if there is room for your poem as well,” said Glorfindel.

Leaning back in his chair in Elrond’s office (well, not his chair, but the one he preferred), Erestor unconsciously purred in the back of his throat and let out a long, relaxed breath. “Praise Eru, I am so happy he is gone,” he said to himself, but the words did not go unheard by another.

“Happy who is gone?” Glorfindel laughed when Erestor hopped in his seat and gripped the arms of the chair. “Sorry, thought you were alone, did you? So, who are you happy not to have around?” he asked, leaning against the doorway. With a smirk, he entered the room, waiting for the answer.

“Ahhmmmmmm..Elrond,” Erestor lied, looking over his shoulder to make sure the peredhel was not about to enter the room. “Yes, Elrond. I like to be able to take a moment before I begin the meeting, just meditating to myself and...” He stopped when he noticed that Glorfindel was not buying the excuse. “Gildor,” Erestor admitted ashamedly. “He just... comes in here and takes over for the time he is here. So much work to be done, but no, let us feast, let us have a party. We have our own celebrations, thank you very much, and none of them pose the risk of Elrond being set afire.”

Chuckling to himself as he recalled the image of Elrond deciding not to jump over the flames but to race through them singing his pants, Glorfindel nodded. “Gildor is best in small doses, even I will admit that. He does have a way about him.”

“Indeed, he does,” agreed Erestor as Elrond entered the office, stopping when he saw his chief advisors sitting across the desk. Turning around, Erestor regarded Elrond with the same puzzled look he was being given. “This is meeting day, is it not?”

“Well... yes, it would be, except I was certain that I told you I would be busy,” said Elrond, walking slowly around his desk. “I told the twins I would go with them for a few weeks holiday at the river; just fishing and camping and the like. I suppose you never got the memo.”

“What memo?” questioned Erestor, looking now through his papers.

Elrond shuffled through the items on his desk as well. “The one I wrote up for our last meeting.”

“M’lord, the last time we held a complete meeting was in-“ Erestor leaned forward, taking the unsent memo from Elrond as it was guiltily passed to him, “-in the Springtime. It is now nearly midsummer.”

“I thought I mentioned it,” apologized Elrond, but Erestor waved it off. “You do not mind taking my responsibilities while I am gone?”

Erestor made a notation in his planner as he asked, “You want me to fulfill all of your regular duties while you are away, correct?”

“Yes-no,” Elrond said, quickly changing his mind as Erestor began to grin. “My duties to the house, not to my wife, you sneaky bastard, I know what you meant.”

A few feet away, Glorfindel gave them both an odd look at the pair laughed at some sort of inside joke they no doubt shared.

“Oh, well, not that it would matter, we know I am boring and celibate and have a much earlier bedtime,” continued Erestor as he made a few more notes. “Anything I should know for the next few weeks?”

“Nothing I can think of. If there is something, I will let you know. We will only be at the Bruinen,” Elrond said as he and Erestor stood up. Glorfindel followed suit. “When I return, we shall hold our meetings again. It has been an odd summer, but I do not think anything was in dire need of discussion.”

“Correct as usual,” remarked Erestor. “Have a wonderful vacation.”

Glorfindel added his sentiments before leaving the room with Erestor, whose mood swung from faux friendly to genuinely perturbed in record time. “You would think he would remember these things! I swear, if he goes senile, we are going to have to have him locked off in some room somewhere and then you will have to assume responsibility here.”

“Wait, what?” questioned Glorfindel as he followed Erestor back to their office.

“Right, he has heirs,” Erestor suddenly recalled. “With our luck, they will end up senile, too.”

“Stop, stop, Erestor, wait a moment.” Glorfindel held his question until Erestor turned to look at him as then asked, “What is senile?”

“Senile... an affliction the races of men and hobbits sometimes contract; and I swear sometimes that all of the ents have it, too. They forget things constantly and become cranky and ornery.” Erestor dropped his pile of notes onto his desk with a thud and a growl. “Dammit, where did my planner go?” he insisted, flipping through the items on the pile.

Very cautiously, Glorfindel set down the book he had grabbed from Elrond’s desk where it had been forgotten by Erestor. The counselor gave it a withering look. “Do elves ever go senile?” Glorfindel dared ask just before he was hit with the missing planner. All the same, he still managed to laugh while rubbing his sore arm.

“Time for a fieldtrip,” announced Erestor, setting down a stack of books on his desk. He came around to Glorfindel’s side of the office and pulled out the chair the blond was sitting upon.

“Fieldtrip?” Glorfindel settled the quill he had been using back onto its holder.

“Yes, come on, we only have so much time before the next service.” Erestor nearly dragged Glorfindel out of the room once the blond was up from his chair. “I have found us a small window of opportunity that we shall not pass up.”

Completely confused, but not admitting to it, Glorfindel kept in step with the taller elf for fear he might be carried to their destination if he went any slower. They left the house, rounded the gardens, and came to a building not far from the main entrance. “Do you know where we are?” asked Erestor casually as he slowed his step.

“The House of Prayer,” Glorfindel said as if reading from a map, for in his mind he knew the placement of nearly every stone that made up the fair city. “This is where the Aphadsadorins come to worship, is it not?”

“Yes, but not just exclusively the Aphadsadorins. This is a nondenominational building; everyone is free to come here. Normally, I do not,” Erestor said, making it quite clear that he had little desire to even be here. “I wanted you to see this place with your own eyes instead of just having Elrond tell you about it.”

“Oh.” Glorfindel looked from one side of the building to the other. “Very nice. Very sturdy design. I like the dogs,” he said, pointing to a pair of menacing looking statues that guarded either side of the stairway.

Erestor rolled his eyes with a sigh and Glorfindel lurched forward as his sleeve was grabbed and tugged in the direction of the doors. “Shall we go in, then?” he asked somewhat sarcastically.

“As you can see,” pointed out Erestor as they made it to the top of the double rows of stairs, “the building itself is not at ground level, but quite a ways above it. The Aphadsadorins, and many others, believe that by doing this, they are closer to the stars and the heavens, and closer to Eru and the Valar.”

“Seems a little... presumptuous,” Glorfindel finally settled on, and he followed Erestor inside. There was an antechamber which spread out in either direction to more stairs, or straight ahead to a larger room. “Still more climbing?”

“Not for us. They preach from elevated areas; again, so that they are on higher ground. Above the others, because they are speaking for the Valar,” explained Erestor.

“Wait a minute...” Glorfindel glanced warily at the stairs as he listened again in his mind to what he had just been told. “They claim that if they are speaking, that they are communicating from the Valar?”

“Something like that. Although, Sedrynerins do it as well; it is just that we read from the twelve books written by the elders who were given the messages in their dreams by Eru. The Aphadsadorins rewrote the book many, many times, and added things along the way, and they think they should be forty or fifty feet off of the ground when they are retelling their inaccurate retellings,” finished Erestor. “To each his own,” he added, leading Glorfindel forward.

“This is the main room with the altar – again, you can see where those stairways lead to,” said Erestor, pointing out the elevated platforms at the front and back of the room. “Up there, at the altar, those benches are for the choir. Now, it differs between religions, but for the pure Aphadsadorins, they choose the best of the best singers and then those are the ones who sing during the mass or at special ceremonies, like weddings and funerals.”

Both elves sat down at one of the benches in the main area, and Glorfindel looked around. “What are those for?” he asked, noticing a pile of baskets sitting in the corner next to a massive harp.

“Those are for the offerings. Near the end of most masses, a collection is taken up,” Erestor told him.

“Of... money?” guessed Glorfindel, and Erestor chuckled.

“I suppose sometimes they have someone deposit something else in them, but yes, of money. This is to support the building, to buy things like special robes and golden chalices and such. You know,” said Erestor with a sigh, “all of the things essential for paying respect to Eru and the Valar.”

Looking up at the high walls, Glorfindel took in the scenes depicted in the tall, stained-glass windows of the evils of Morgoth. To one side at the front of the room was a large, blue marble statue of Manwe; the opposite side of the room was Varda. The Valier, in statue form, lined one wall from front to back, while their male counterparts were hewn in stone on the other side. Standing up, Glorfindel walked to the statue of Elbereth and looked over the rows and rows of candles, some lit and some burned out, while others awaited someone to strike flint to steel or light them from one of the others already burning.

Erestor approached quietly and stood beside Glorfindel. “There was once a more symbolic reason for the lighting of these,” explained the dark elf, picking up one of the flickering candles. “If someone was dying, or perhaps if someone needed guidance, one might be lit. If there was an elleth having an uneasy labor, her husband might come and light an entire row. But now, they are burning not only for these reasons. If someone wants a raise, if someone wishes their champion to win a joust, if someone wants to be granted leave for a vacation. I hear of these things all the time.” Erestor tilted the candle, sparking the wick of an unlit one at the very corner of the table. He placed the candle he had picked up back in its spot and then dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a coin purse. “It used to be a spiritual thing; now, you make a donation when you light them.” A piece of silver glinted in his fingers just as he dropped it into a little metal box that hanged off of the table.

Glorfindel stared at the newly lit flame until he heard Erestor begin to retreat from the place of worship. With his palms upon the edge of the table, Glorfindel listened to the steps become fainter and fainter. Finally he called out, his voice echoing in the empty hall. “Who did you light that one for?”

The loud steps on the hard, marble walkway paused. “That one,” said Erestor before leaving, “is for you.”

“Have you ever seen a horse more magnificent than his?” asked Elrond of Glorfindel as Erestor rode onto the field to the cheering of many in the audience. Celebrian elbowed her husband gently from her spot on his other side and Elrond amended his comment to include, “Besides Asfaloth, of course.”

“Hmm? Oh... of course.” Glorfindel leaned forward on the rail of the high, shaded dais that served as the place for the family and others of importance to watch the activities on the sporting field. The banners fluttered in the light breeze, and the fringed overhang flapped gently against the poles of the canopy. Today’s event was a competition of horse handling skills and less of a race. Usually Erestor did well, but he excelled in racing, especially chariot races. This was a one horse, one rider competition that had over thirty contestants of varying degrees of experience pitted against one another.

Many of the events were tests of individual skill, but there was a joust, and that always had Glorfindel on edge as even with a ring joust there were times when something might go wrong. Out on the field, Erestor seemed rather relaxed as he waited for the rest of the riders to be announced and to line the field. Morir stood still as he was trained to, barely flinching when flies came near or when Erestor flicked them away with his crop.

“Care to make a wager?” asked Elladan of his younger brother. Elrohir shrugged. “I bet you three silvers that Erestor wins the rings.”

“You do not have three silvers,” said Elrohir, who was more occupied with watching the prettily dressed maidens who would keep the scores at the far end of the field for those in the audience to see.

Elladan turned around and looked at his father. “Ada, may I borrow three silver pieces?”

“Ask your mother,” Elrond answered promptly.

“Nana-“ began Elladan.

Stilling her fan for a moment, Celebrian shook her head. “Absolutely not. I will not have you gambling with your brother, or anyone else for that matter. Besides, you say ‘borrow’ when you mean ‘have’.” She continued in vain to try to keep herself cool in the heat.

With a huff, Elladan went back to watching those on the field.

“Elladan.”

The elder twin looked over upon hearing his name, and caught the coin that had been flipped through the air at him. “Whoa, a gold piece!” he exclaimed, turning it over in his hand. Elladan smirked at his brother, and Elrohir pouted a little.

From his spot leaning against the railing, Glorfindel laughed and took another from his pocket. “Catch, Elrohir.” When each of the twins had in their hands a gleaming piece of gold, Glorfindel said, “Now, what I would do is stop your silly talk of betting and invest your money in wiser pursuits. Perhaps at one of the vendors on the grounds or to treat one of those lovely ladies the two of your have had your eyes on all morning,” suggested the blond elf.

“Thank you, Uncle Fin!” Elladan raced behind his parents to the stairs that would take him back to the general grounds of the event.

Elrohir walked to his parents and asked, “May El and I be excused until the race begins?” Elrond nodded unemotionally, and Elrohir smiled, then turned and said, “Thanks, Uncle Fin!” before following after his brother.

“Glorfindel, you really need not spoil them like that,” said Celebrian.

“You are only young once,” he replied. “They will be responsible adults sooner than you wish it; let them enjoy this time they have now.”

Looking back to the field, Glorfindel noticed that the majority of the riders were assembled. This was obviously realized by Erestor as well, for the dark ellon was stretching his arms above his head and rolling the kinks from his neck. Glorfindel disliked seeing Erestor in this manner as much as he enjoyed it. On one hand, he took great pride in the fact that he had been the one to teach the elf so many long years ago how to ride a horse. On the other, beyond those happy days in Gondolin, the most vivid memories that Glorfindel had of Erestor on a horse involved the fall of their beloved city and the great war that had only just ended not more than a few hundred years earlier.

Erestor’s posture was one that reminded Glorfindel of someone going into battle. He was alert, but not too stiff. The leather of his gear had been painstakingly polished to a shine, and the metal gleaned in the sunlight. Silver, black, and brilliant blue. Instead of his long hair partially loose down his back to his knees, the counselor’s coal-colored locks were tightly braided into thick, short plaits that were bound together at the base of his neck and barely reached the middle of his back. Morir and Erestor looked fearsome together, each of them with their own stern look, each of them dark and mysterious. Erestor bent his head to whisper to the horse, and Morir gave a snort of determination.

Tightening his gloves and checking the lacings of his boots, Erestor took a slow breath in, held it, and let it slowly out. Erestor closed his eyes as the master of the event spoke the rules that he could likely recite in his sleep and folded his hands together before him. Bowing his head, his lips moved as he quietly spoke a prayer unheard by anyone, and unseen by most.

At the balcony overlooking the competition, Glorfindel saw it. His gaze staggered to the others for a moment, but fell back upon Erestor. In that small, simple act of supplication, Glorfindel saw courage greater than that of the other participants combined. He saw some of the others, others on their horses and squires and pages as well, pointing and snickering as Erestor paid them no mind and continued his praying.

Before he had even realized what it was that he was doing, Glorfindel found his fingers interlaced with each other as he leaned on the railing with his elbows. His words were sincere, and he cared not who was watching or listening. “Dear Eru, please bless Erestor and keep him safe today during this competition. Namar.”

“Namar.” Glorfindel turned upon hearing Elrond’s voice behind him. He gave the elf-lord a warm smile before turning his attention to the field below. The first challenge was alphabetically arranged; a jumping competition. Erestor and Morir would go third.

- - -

“Good thing you decided not to wager against your brother,” remarked Celebrian to her middle child as Erestor took the blue ribbon for the rings. The counselor now had two ribbons, one blue and one red, hanging from Morir’s bridle and a smug, high-stepping horse. It also meant that he had higher points than most of the other competitors, and would be facing an equally strong opponent in the first round of the joust. Turning to her cousin, who sat next to her now, she said, “Fin, stop biting your nails.”

“He has never been this close before.” Glorfindel shoved his hands in his pockets. “I just hope Morir does not get too cocky.”

“Or Erestor for that matter,” said Elrond. Everyone in the booth waited quietly as Erestor took hold of his lance and shield at the side he was assigned to. The point of this version of the sport was not to even make contact with the other rider – points would be lost for that. Those participating were to ride to the center where a ring was dangling from a hook hanging from a wire. Whoever’s lance passed through and gained the ring first took the point; best of three won the match. This perhaps made the event less exciting than when the target was the other rider, but infinitely more safe and a greater test of the strength and speed of the horses.

Elladan, who had returned with bags of fresh roasted nuts and other candies, scanned the field. “No swords for the jousters?” he complained. “What if there is a scuffle?”

“There will be no scuffling,” said Elrohir. “This is the civilized version.”

“I know, but still.” Elladan offered some of the treats he had brought back to his parents before joining his twin at the rail. “Remember that time when it was a joust for real, back when Erestor had that mean, tan horse that used to nip at our heals? I thought the horse was going to bite Erestor’s squire when he came out to lead him back. He really wanted to keep in it!”

“She,” corrected Glorfindel. “The butterscotch-colored mare he had sixty years ago, the one who would not share a stall with any other horses. That was a she.”

“Do you remember that match, though?” Elladan was so excited that he knocked some of his roasted almonds out of the paper funnel they were held in. “The first thing I had thought was, no possible way Erestor can win this one. But then, he drew his sword like the other knight and swung it ‘round over his head, which I think was for show but impressed me! And then-“

“Elladan, we were all here for that,” his father reminded him.

“Right,” said Elladan with a sigh as he went back to watching the competition. A moment later, he turned back around and animatedly continued. “Then, he waits for the other one to charge. Remember how he lost his shield after the first few blows? I thought, no way now! And then- bam!- he strikes the other elf right across his shield, knocks him over. The knight throws the shield off since it was useless then, and he and Erestor just started attacking each other, exchanging blows, swords clashing together!”

“Are you here to watch this match or not?” interrupted Elrond.

Heaving a sigh, Elladan muttered to himself and looked back out to the field. “I do wish he would fight real jousts again. Or even compete in the sword fighting- whenever someone says ‘oh, Erestor, what a bookworm’, I tell them, ‘oh, no, not Erestor!’ He makes it look like the sword is just an extension of his body, and seeing him ride into a joust atop a horse with his lance held up-“ Elladan noticed the warning look that his father was giving to him, and closed his mouth. “I think I should just watch the competition,” he mumbled.

“Wise choice,” confirmed Elrond, shaking his head once his sons were both not facing him.

As Erestor sat motionless with his right hand holding the lance straight up and his left arm holding the shield, Glorfindel dug his hands further into his pockets. A shrill whistle sounded and both Erestor and the rider opposite him charged the field upon their mounts at full speed.

After a bad start at missing the first ring, Erestor captured the second two and moved into the next round. It took some time to make it through the other fifteen pairs, and then to continue to whittle down the group with subsequent rounds. Things were looking fairly well for Erestor coming into the quarterfinals.

“Even if he does not win this one, if he can at least make second or third, or if that one on the white and grey does not place in first, Erestor will take a place in the competition overall,” Celebrian said as the four remaining competitors joined one of the judges off the field to flip a coin to determine pairings for the next two jousts, which consisted of the riders spearing consecutively smaller and smaller rings instead of riding head to head for one. “It certainly seems he deserves it after all this time.”

“He has placed before,” Elrond informed his wife. “You were not here at those times, but he has even taken top place in many races and competitions with his horses.”

“But, in this exact series of events?” questioned Celebrian.

Elrond considered this for a moment and finally shook his head. “Not with this competition – you are right. My mistake,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“They should use swords for this part,” complained Elladan as he munched on his snacks.

As the rings became smaller and smaller, Glorfindel found himself watching less and less, until all he did was cover his eyes, opening them only when he heard the gleeful shouts from the twins and Celebrian when Erestor would manage to spear his rings. On the sixth pass, Erestor victorious displayed the small metal ring that glimmered on the end of his lance while his opponent sadly tossed his lance to his page as he rode off of the field.

The other two participants still in the running had yet to compete, and they remounted now as Erestor coaxed Morir to the sideline and handed his lance to his waiting squire. Before the field was set for the next set of jousts, a group of horses that had been tethered to their posts at the edge of the area began to pull on their reigns and fight the leather straps that kept them there. A few managed to break free immediately, running wild, while the others bucked and whinnied, stomping on the ground.

The only rider immediately in the area of the scared creatures was Erestor, who turned Morir to move with those racing away from the field. Pushing his mount to keep up with the horses, Erestor managed to herd them back around to the stables before leaving the fearful horses in the care of the stable hands while he rode back to the epicenter of the problem.

Concentrating more on getting back to the horses that were still tied to their posts to see if they were alright than with what had scared them in the first place, Erestor did not think to watch his path for anything out of the ordinary. Within a hundred feet of the spooked horses, the hooded head of a snake shot up from the grass. Morir panicked, rising up on his back legs suddenly.

Finding himself slipping from the horse, Erestor tried to make it off and onto his feet. Instead of leaping with grace, his foot tangled in the stirrup and he hit the ground on his left side as Morir’s feet came down in the grass. Ignoring the pain and the sound of the broken bone in his left arm, Erestor reached up and yanked off his boot, leaving it in the stirrup. “Noro lim, Morir!” he shouted at the horse as the snake hissed and swayed back and forth. “Kel! Kel! Kel!” he yelled, not wanting to move to push the horse for fear the cobra would strike.

- - -

“Can you see anything?” Glorfindel was squinting as he and Elrond stood on the high platform trying to determine what was going on. “He sat up; do you think he is alright?”

“Right now, yes, probably broke his arm the way he is—oh, sweet Elbereth...” Elrond’s eyes widened. “Fin, where is your bow?”

- - -

“Get out of here, Morir!” Erestor was shaking a little now, but he could not tell if it was from the fear of being so close to this deadly creature, or if it was because of the pain in his arm and his side. “Morir, go to the stables! Go, Morir!”

Erestor had been edging slowly forward, inch by inch, making his way in between the horse and the snake. As the cobra arched back and rose up once again, Erestor decided not to wait any longer. His hope was to surprise it by grabbing its hood and flinging it away. Unfortunately, he had not accounted for the fact he was so weak from his fall and tired from the day of racing. When he grabbed hold of the snake, she jerked out of his grasp. Finding a new target now, she lunged forward and embedded her fangs into his shoulder, venom coursing into the wound.

- - -

“Shoot it now, Glorfindel!” instructed Elrond, pointing at the snake in the grass.

The warrior closed one eye and made sure he had an exact mark on his target. He pulled back the bowstring until the wood quivered and ached.

“Now!” commanded Elrond.

- - -

‘Stop. Put your bow down.’ Erestor caught a glimpse of what was happening just as the arrow was ready to fly. He hoped that Glorfindel could hear him, and when he saw the weapon lowered, he continued with, ‘You would have spooked the horses worse, and the last thing we need is a stampede. Bring an empty pillow case and send someone after my horse.’

Glorfindel handed his bow to Elladan and took hold of the railing. “What are you doing?” Elrond demanded as Glorfindel jumped onto the rail, and then down to the ground, landing in a crouch.

“Erestor just farspoke with me. Send someone with a pillow case or a basket or something,” Glorfindel called up to those in the booth. “Elrohir, find Morir and get him back to his stall!”

“Lord Glorfindel! Lord Glorfindel!” A group of elflings caught the blond’s attention, for they shouted to him as a group, and were dragging a large woven basket out from behind the raised benches where they likely had been playing while their parents watched. Arwen was among them. “Uncle Finny!” she yelled above the others, “Here is a basket for you!”

Stooping down, Glorfindel looked at the basket, noting that it was patterned as many of the ones that Gildor and his followers had. “Where did you find this, little ones?” he asked with concern.

“Under the benches,” explained one of the older elflings. “After the snake crawled out, we decided to play with it.”

Grabbing the basket, Glorfindel ran with it across the lawn, making a note to have a stern discussion with Gildor about misplacing his pets. This had not been the first time – once, just as he was about to take a nap, a long, slithery creature with brown fur and a bad smell ran out from under his bed and pounced him. This was a ferret Glorfindel later found out, and it was only just barely more memorable than the tarantula that had crawled out of his quiver one day just after Gildor had departed the valley.

“Stay right there.” Erestor waited until Glorfindel held his position, and then turned back to the snake, who was now swaying slowly and hissing back to him, but in conversation. Erestor hissed back and raised his hand, stroking her hood as he spoke to her. “Well, I cannot blame her. Had I been abandoned and awoke hungry in such strange surroundings, I would be a bit on edge as well.” Pointing to the basket, Erestor hissed again, and the cobra lowered herself to the ground and moved toward Glorfindel. “Just stay calm, Fin, she just wants to go back into her little house.” Indeed, the snake crawled into the basket and coiled herself in the bottom. Immediately, Glorfindel placed the lid over the top, and then rushed to Erestor.

“Why do you do these things?” he murmured as he removed Erestor’s tunic and shirt hastily, trying not to disturb the broken arm.

“How else am I to have you come racing to my rescue,” teased the dark haired elf. Glorfindel snorted and checked the bruise on Erestor’s hip by pushing the side of his pants down slightly. “Goodness, Fin- here in the middle of the field? And you have not even bought me dinner yet...”

“Oh, hush, you,” scolded Glorfindel as Erestor laughed to himself about the jokes he was making. “Sit still; I have to suck this out,” he said, moving around to Erestor’s shoulder.

Erestor snickered and said, “Are you sure we should not get a room first?”

Rolling his eyes, Glorfindel said, “The poison. From your wound. Honestly, if you keep this up, I may consider gagging you.” He bent his head and sucked out a mouthful of blood and poison before spitting it onto the ground.

“Never know... I might just like that...”

Glorfindel sighed in exasperation and continued his task. One of the things he learned about Erestor was that when the dark elf was extremely concerned or worried about himself, he would begin to make terrible jokes and jests in an attempt to keep himself from panicking. Although it sounded as if Glorfindel was trying to stop him from continuing, he was really trying to egg him on by offering easy shots at the situation.

“Make sure you do not swallow,” warned Elrond, who had arrived with Elladan and an emergency kit. Sitting down on Erestor’s opposite side, Elrond lifted Erestor’s arm and felt along the bones until he found the breaks. “You may have fractured your hip,” he accessed after looking at his counselor’s side. “You definitely broke your arm.”

“Yes... no transcription for a week...” Erestor answered, trying to sound excited about it.

Elrond shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I do not want you walking until I know more. Your arm I will set when we are in the house, so try not to move it much,” he said as he lifted the limb and gently tied it to a splint. “Glorfindel will carry you to the house.”

“Alright, but he still owes me dinner,” answered Erestor a bit sleepily.

Glorfindel, who was rinsing out his mouth with miruvor, just shook his head in answer to Elrond’s questioning look. He lifted his flask to his lips after spitting out the contaminated liquid and took another mouthful, swishing it around before spitting that out, too. “Do you have any disinfectant for this wound?” he asked of Elrond.

“Not out here,” said Elrond. “Inside, which is where you need to take him now.”

“Can we use this?” Glorfindel asked, holding the flask up. Elrond shrugged and then nodded. Tilting the flask slightly, Glorfindel said to Erestor, “This is really going to sting. Do you... want to hold my hand or something?”

“I can’t feel my hands right now, Fin,” replied Erestor seriously.

As he poured the rest of the miruvor over the puncture wound, Glorfindel noticed that Erestor did not even flinch. Tossing the empty container aside, Glorfindel slid one arm under Erestor’s knees and the other he wrapped around the dark elf’s back, pulling him close before he stood up with him.

- - -

“Is Erestor going to die?”

“If one more person asks me that,” warned Elrond, and his sons scooted back a little from their father. “He will be fine. I may kill him for what he did with that snake, but he will live from his fall, and Glorfindel removed enough of the venom in time for it not to cause too much damage or discomfort. There is a bit of an exaggeration as to how badly he was injured, and I will thank you to discontinue any rumors that are spreading about that,” he said as he crushed some dried herbs to powder and added boiling water to them. Elrond and his sons were in his pharmacy room while Glorfindel waited with Erestor in one of the healing rooms.

Elladan picked up a jar of murky blue liquid and held it curiously up to the light. “So, are you saying that Erestor is being overly dramatic about his situation?”

“I-“ Elrond sighed. “I think perhaps the two of you should see to his horse. Did anyone take off the tack and give him a good rubdown?” The twins shook their heads. “Well, there are two of you, I suggest you head out to the stables and do that for Erestor.”

“Yes, Ada.” Elladan put down the glass container and left with Elrohir trailing after him. A moment later, Elrohir poked his head around the corner. “You are sure he will not die, right, Ada?”

All Elrond needed to do was glare to make his son disappear around the corner again. Placing the steaming bowl on a tray, Elrond pulled a bottle out of a cabinet and took a capsule from it, placing it on the tray as well. To this, he added a glass of cool water, and then took all of the items with him down the hall.

Glorfindel stopped whispering to Erestor and looked up when Elrond entered. Elrond placed the tray on a table while he closed the door. “Fin, I need your spot for a moment, but you can have it back as soon as I am finished.”

Standing up, Glorfindel passed by Elrond at the foot of the bed. Placing his hand on the healer’s shoulder, Glorfindel asked in a low voice, “Elrond... uhm, is Erestor... is he...”

“No, he is not going to die!” Elrond hissed in a much angrier voice than he had intended. Glorfindel flinched. “I wish everyone would stop asking!”

“That... actually was not my question,” mumbled Glorfindel.

Elrond sighed and looked at the bed. “Erestor, we will be right back.”

“Me, too,” answered the counselor sleepily.

Once the pair of elf-lords had gone to the hallway, Glorfindel asked, “I just wanted to know whether or not he is... well, the best way I can put it is, is he... is he going to bew like this for a while? He seems a little... off... and a tad crazy the way he is talking about things...”

“That was what I came to take care of. I noticed when I was examining him earlier that he was hallucinating from time to time. I would ask questions and some he answered correctly, while other times he answered as if he was a much younger elf.” Elrond nodded to the door and said, “I have something for him that should clear his head, as it were.”

Glorfindel nodded, and the pair entered the room again. “Erestor,” said Elrond as he came back in and picked up the tray, “I have something for you to drink. Something to make you feel better.”

Erestor warily sat up in bed, squirming a little. His left arm had been bandaged and was wrapped in a manner to keep his lower arm and wrist straight. Elrond had determined that Erestor had a fracture in his hip bone and had threatened to tie the ellon down if he did not agree to stay in bed. At the time, however, it was questionable as to whether Erestor was really remembering Elrond or not. “Tell Naneth I am fine,” he said, pressing his lips firmly together when Elrond set the tray down on the table beside the bed.

“I will, right after you drink this,” insisted Elrond. Erestor adamantly shook his head. “Erestor, you need to drink this or you will not get better.”

“Yes I will,” he argued, scooting away from Elrond as the bowl was held out to him. “It might take longer but I will still heal eventually.”

Elrond set the bowl down on the tray. “Maybe. But, maybe not.”

Erestor frowned at the peredhel as Glorfindel sat down gently beside Erestor on the bed. “You know, it will just be faster if you get it over with,” he suggested. “Otherwise, do you know what he will likely do?” asked Glorfindel. Erestor looked at Glorfindel and shook his head. Glorfindel sighed. “What he will probably make me do is hold you down. And then, he will take a funnel and put it in your mouth and pinch your nose, and you will still have to drink it – only, it will make a mess, and it will not be very pleasant. On the other hand,” he said, motioning to Elrond for him to pass the bowl over, “if you just drink it now, he will leave you alone and I will tell you a bedtime story.”

The bowl was held out in front of Erestor, and after studying Glorfindel for a bit, Erestor, lifted his uninjured hand and took hold of it. He made a face as the steam wafted up to his nose. “I can pinch your nose while you drink it so you do not taste it so much,” offered Glorfindel, and Erestor nodded. With Glorfindel keeping the bowl steady with one hand and pinching Erestor’s nose with the other, the dark elf fought to drink the concoction all in one go. He shuddered after finishing and made a gagging sound, but after swallowing once, he let Glorfindel take possession of the bowl again.

“Just one more thing.” Elrond held out the capsule and the glass of water. “This is to help with the pain in your arm and hip; then, you will need to stay awake for the rest of the evening, until I come back. Alright?”

“Why?” asked Erestor after he swallowed the pill and drank the water.

“Just to make sure,” answered Elrond as he took the empty glass and placed it beside the bowl on the tray. He fluffed the pillow and left Erestor sitting up in bed. “Glorfindel will be right back, I just need to see him in the hallway once more. Good night,” he said to Erestor as he left.

Glorfindel closed the door behind him and awaited Elrond’s instruction. “Make sure he stays in bed. He should start clearing things up in his mind very soon, almost immediately. If he does not, send for me right away, but do not leave him. There are two healers down the hall at all times,” he said, pointing to the room three doors down. “Call for them if anything happens out of the ordinary. He needs to stay awake all night. If he falls asleep, I worry he may fall into a comatose state because of the poison, and we need to keep him awake so that we can monitor his other injuries. I think he is alright, but there is always a chance he hurt something inside that I cannot see. If anything seems out of the ordinary, call for me. And thank you,” he said. “I need to get back; Celebrian has had a terrible time with Arwen. She is thinks this is all her fault for taking the lid off of that basket.”

“I will take care of Erestor, do not worry,” Glorfindel assured Elrond.

“And do not let him eat until breakfast. It will dull the effects of the drugs I gave him,” added Elrond as he headed down the hallway.

Entering the room, Glorfindel found Erestor looking at the door very sheepishly. The pair stared at each other for a long while, and Glorfindel saw clarity in Erestor’s expression. “Well,” Erestor finally said, “I feel like a loon.”

“Not your fault,” Glorfindel reminded him. “You had no control over the situation.”

“Yes, I did,” Erestor reminded him. “I stepped in the way to save my horse. If he had been bitten, he would not have survived.”

“Morir is fine,” Glorfindel assured Erestor. “The twins were going to take care of him, last I heard.”

Erestor nodded. “And what I said out on the field to you? Ai! Was there anyone else around at the time?”

Glorfindel chuckled. “No. Your extreme temporary insanity can be our little secret,” he said. “But, I still feel I owe you dinner...”

To this, Erestor chuckled and blushed, and suddenly found the cast on his arm to be very interesting. “Actually, you do owe me a bedtime story,” he reminded Glorfindel.

“Right. Well... I actually have a bunch of little stories – anecdotes I suppose – that I wanted to share with you, and I was going to come to you with those after the race was over. But, those I will save for now until you are well again,” he said quickly. “Now, a proper story...”

But Erestor would have none of that. “Glorfindel... are these... personal anecdotes?”

“Aye,” he said, nodding. “But... this really is not the time for it...”

Erestor readjusted the best he could against the pillows in the bed. “Do you mind closing the door?” Glorfindel stood and crossed the room, shutting the door per the request. When he sat down again, he was asked, “Tell me how you came to this decision to want to tell me these things.”

“Well...” Glorfindel sat on the edge of the chair and leaned forward. “When you took me to the chapel the other day and I saw the state of things there- actually, it was long before then that I felt what you had been telling me was right, was the way I felt about things. But I stood watching the candles burning and I mulled things over in my mind. After that, I took a walk, and I found myself upon the ridge where we first began our discussion. And, I spoke to Him for a while.”

“And what did He say?”

“Uhh... whh... ehhh, n-nothing... was He supposed to say something?” asked Glorfindel, suddenly worried.

“Sorry, bad joke,” apologized Erestor. “So, you spoke to Him.”

“For a long time, yes.” Glorfindel took a deep breath. “I wanted to come and talk to you right away, but it was late. Then you had this competition to get ready for, and I thought I would just wait until after.”

“Glorfindel, next time you want to talk to me, do not worry about some silly competition,” Erestor told him. “You are more important than my ego and some frilly colored ribbons.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“So...” Erestor shifted again, and yawned. “I have time if you... want to tell me anything. Also, it seems I am not allowed to sleep, so one way or another you owe me a story.” He reached out with his good hand and poked Glorfindel’s shoulder.

Glorfindel was silent for a long while until Erestor said, “Or, we can wait. There is no reason to rush.”

“I just need to sort things out. Bad enough to confess your sins of one lifetime, let alone two,” admitted Glorfindel. “I just need to figure out where to begin.”

“Wherever you like. And do not worry too much over it – if you forget something, you will remember it later. We can just talk and let things come as they will.”

“When I was... well, little... I stole one of my sister’s dresses. Many of them over the years, really. Then I would hide them and never gave them back,” said Glorfindel.

Erestor struggled to find a way to fold his hands together, and finally settled for taking hold of one of Glorfindel’s with his free one. “Was it because you were jealous of her?”

Averting Erestor’s gaze, Glorfindel said, “Noooo... it was because I thought they were pretty. I wanted them... and, probably would have tried to wear them had they not been too small. Actually, I did try one of them on, once,” he mumbled. “I was jealous, I guess. She was a girl, and there were times I wanted to...” Glorfindel fought to continue speaking. “...times I wondered if I was born the wrong gender. After my brother was born, I remember relatives coming over and saying ‘two sons and a daughter’, and he would reply with, ‘no, now I have one of each’. I always hated when he said that. But then, I feel like a little bit of both now and then. Which sounds terrible, because I should just be happy as I am.”

Unsure of exactly what to say, Erestor finally settled on, “Pink.”

“Huh?” Glorfindel looked up with confusion.

“I think you would have favored pink dresses,” he said.

Glorfindel blinked, and then grinned. “Well, I did like the pink ones an awful lot.”

“Really, what you are admitting to is not something to be ashamed of- a lot of children fantasize about being the opposite gender, especially if they think that they are unfairly treated for whatever reason. You saw your parents paying more attention to your sister, so you wanted to be a girl. I have observed others who are like this, or in the reverse, secretly wish they were boys. Galadriel, for instance, said outright a number of times growing up that she would have liked to have been a brother instead of a sister, and she played with the boys and roughhoused with them. I do not ever recall her holding a tea party or making mud pies with her female peers. As for the stealing,” said Erestor, “that was wrong, but I am sure Eru forgives you for that.”

Glorfindel continued to list his transgressions, and for each Erestor had comforting words or a little prayer to be said. By morning, Glorfindel felt for the first time in either life absolved of the many wrongdoings he had committed.

“How will I ever thank you for this?” wondered Glorfindel as he sat beside Erestor, for he had moved to sit on the bed atop the blankets after the first hour of their discussion.

“No thanks are necessary,” Erestor assured him. “This is what I do.”

“Well, thank you all the same,” replied Glorfindel. “But I still owe you dinner some time,” he added with a grin.

To this, Erestor could only laugh again and blush.

Timidly, Glorfindel knocked on the door to Erestor’s rooms and nervously waited. He had received a few odd looks as he walked through the corridor, but had ignored them. When the door was clumsily opened, he was greeted with a smile. “Good, you are early. I was trying to open a bottle of wine, but the cork is being stubborn and I feel like such a dunce.” Erestor handed the corkscrew to Glorfindel. “Love the shirt,” he added as the blond entered the room.

“I did not have the courage to wear it until now,” admitted the warrior, looking down at the pale pink silk. “I had to tell the seamstress it was part of a costume, else she would have spread such rumors at the time. Probably all true, but still. Where is the stubborn cork residing?”

“In this bottle over here.” Erestor led him to the table where there was sometimes a chessboard and sometimes a few maps, but currently little more was there than flowers and candles, and the aforementioned wine bottle. “I have nearly stabbed myself twice now,” he added, handing Glorfindel the corkscrew.

Glorfindel easily removed the cork in five seconds, and with a practiced hand, filled the pair of goblets that had been sitting beside the bottle. As he handed one to Erestor, the counselor said, “Never again will I be taking such small things for granted.” He shook his head as he looked down at the sling that his healing arm was in.

“At least you are walking on your own again,” Glorfindel reminded the dark elf.

“Thank Eru! If I had to use that contraption that Elrond had for relieving myself in bed one hour longer, I would have hurled it at him!” threatened Erestor as they went to sit by the unlit fireplace.

Glorfindel took note of the tall woven basket close to the hearth. “I see you took possession of Gildor’s basket.”

“No, not Gildor’s basket. My basket now. And my snake inside of my basket, thank you very much.” Erestor gave a smug look to Glorfindel, who looked a little shocked. “She and I have come to an understanding. We are kin now, are we not, little one?” he said a bit louder in the direction of the basket. “Both of us sharing the same poison in our veins. Now when I am told in council how venomous my words are, it will not be such an untruth.” Over the edge of the basket, the cobra lifted her head. Flicking her tongue out a few times, she settled back down again.

“Well, this is an interesting development,” said Glorfindel.

“I promise you, she will not hurt anyone. She was scared at the time she bit me,” explained Erestor.

Another knock sounded on the door, and before Erestor could stand, Glorfindel said, “I have it. Stay here. That must be dinner – I wanted them to bring it right away before it got cold.” Glorfindel opened the door and took the tray from the kitchen maid. Setting it on the table, he began to arrange things while Erestor walked over.

“Smells good. As usual, the cook has done a fabulous job I am sure,” remarked Erestor.

Glorfindel smiled. “I gave the cook the night off. For the two of us at least; I am sure she and her workers are still cooking for the rest of the house.”

Erestor gave Glorfindel a puzzled look, and then sat down. “You made this?” he guessed. Glorfindel nodded. “No kidding? I never would have guessed that you enjoyed the art of cooking.”

“Enjoy it and excel in it, if I do say so myself,” Glorfindel said proudly. “Do not worry; there is no meat in anything here.”

“Thank you for remembering that,” said Erestor, looking over the spread. “You made dessert and everything?”

“I cannot take credit for churning the butter,” said Glorfindel, “but I baked the bread, cut the vegetables and stewed them, mixed the batter for the cake, and even...” Moving out of the way, he displayed the finishing touch. “...folded the napkins.”

“A little dove – how adorable,” said Erestor, picking up the napkin sculpture. “Oh, how am I supposed to destroy this?”

With a grin, Glorfindel said, “I can remake it.”

“I know, but still.” Erestor set the cloth dove beside his plate and frowned. “I just realized something.”

“What is that?” asked Glorfindel.

“With your painting. You depict me holding you, and you are the dove with the broken wing. Now, I have a ‘broken wing’ as it were, and-“ Erestor stopped and bowed his head to look at the little dove. “Well, just a little irony is all. I certainly cannot unfold him now.”

“You will have to eventually,” said Glorfindel. “He needs to rejoin the rest of his napkin kinfolk in the wash bin in the kitchen at the end of the night.”

Erestor looked rather appalled at that suggestion. “Would you mind... closing your eyes for a moment?”

“Erestor.” Glorfindel shook his head in a scolding manner, but did as he was asked. He heard the chair scrape over the floor, and a little bit later, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again, followed by Erestor hastily coming back to the table.

“Alright. You may open your eyes.”

A finger was wagged at Erestor as Glorfindel noted that the napkin dove was missing. “What happened to it?” he asked, though he knew very well what happened to it.

“Flew away,” answered Erestor immediately, taking a tiny bread loaf from the basket.

“What happened to stealing being a bad thing,” teased Glorfindel.

“I am not stealing it; I am merely borrowing it permanently. Like I did with the snake,” he added.

Dishing out stew for both himself and Erestor, Glorfindel asked, “You truly plan to keep the snake?”

“I am keeping her, I gave her a proper name, and she is free to leave at any time. She much prefers it here where she can roam as she pleases and warm herself by the hearth,” said Erestor.

Glorfindel froze. “She roams?”

“I can ask her to stay in the basket if it bothers you,” offered Erestor.

Looking around cautiously, Glorfindel stood up and took one of the bowls to Erestor. “No... it just seems odd to have a cobra wandering around.”

“Yes, it is odd. Odd, but I am enjoying it,” Erestor said. “Just this morning I was sitting in my chair over there reading, and she came and coiled in my lap and fell asleep.”

“What did you name her?” wondered Glorfindel.

“Caraxë.” Erestor grinned. “It suits her. And it was how we were acquainted.”

“Quite,” laughed Glorfindel. He folded his hands and asked, “Do... do you want to say the blessing over the meal?”

Erestor looked quite happy over the fact that Glorfindel had remembered this. It was only the Sedrynerins who bothered with such a thing for each meal. “I think you should. If you are comfortable doing that.” Erestor had to fold his hands in his lap due to his injuries.

Thinking over what to say for a moment, Glorfindel bowed his head and spoke. “Dear Lord, we thank you for this day, for this meal that we are sharing, and for being among friends. Namar.”

“Namar,” added Erestor. He looked around on the table. “Drat. Now that my napkin flew away, I will have to be especially careful eating.”

“Was that alright?” asked Glorfindel of the prayer.

“Yes. You did very well,” commended Erestor.

Glorfindel sighed with relief. “It was nowhere near as good as the ones I have heard you say,” he said, in reference to the fact that even at large gatherings in the main hall, Erestor would always take a few moments to give thanks before eating.

“It is not a competition,” Erestor reminded him with a smile. “So... while we are almost on the topic, let me move us there. When do you plan to have the final rite of passage performed?”

“As soon as you are able to,” Glorfindel answered with certainty before taking a sip of wine. “I know that you cannot go into the water right now with your arm mending like that, but I feel-“

“Yes, how do you feel?” interrupted Erestor. His eyes fell upon Glorfindel with curiosity. “It has taken you very little time to accept what many here have fought for centuries. Even I did not convert so quickly or even so willingly at first.”

“You? But you love this. I can tell,” remarked Glorfindel as he buttered his bread.

With a smile, Erestor said, “When I arrived in Greenwood after Gondolin’s fall, I was surrounded by a population that was heavily Sedrynerin – which, by the way, is where the majority of them are, except for in Valinor. There were many who told me that the reason Gondolin fell was because of our ‘wicked ways’, and it disgusted me to no end to hear them say such things. Luckily, I did eventually learn that with all things, not all Sedryners are alike, and not all of them believed in that ridiculousness. So I wonder still, how do you feel now?”

Glorfindel set down his bread on the edge of the stew bowl and placed the knife beside the butter. “I feel... this is hard to put in words. I feel... like I belong, like I am not alone,” he began. “I feel as if I am... loved. I feel better, and more at peace about things. I no longer feel fearful about dying, again, although perhaps that is just one of my little quirks regarding all of this. I have a better understanding of things – that book you loaned to me made so many things so clear. Clarity – I have a more focused outlook, I suppose. Are those the right answers?” he asked with a little light laughter.

“There are no ‘right answers’,” said Erestor. “But those are your answers, and they are good answers. Your thoughts mirror many of mine, Fin.”

Glorfindel smiled and went back to eating his dinner.

Across the table, Erestor was looking off at the wall, in thought. “If all goes well, my arm will heal in little more than a week. It more than gives us time to request the time off from Elrond; it may cut things a little close with regards to inviting others.”

Stiffening, Glorfindel said, “You told me once that we did not need to invite anyone else.”

“If you want this to be private, no, you need not have anyone else there.” Erestor smiled. “Most of the time the reason to have others present is to have witnesses to the event.”

“I care very little about that. I am not close to any of the others like I am to you. Melpomaen, I suppose,” he added. “But that would seem a little awkward, to invite only one other along.”

“I understand,” nodded Erestor. “I requested the same, and it was only myself and Thranduil who were there. I take it you would rather skip the customary celebration after the fast?”

“Well,” said Glorfindel, grinning, “there is no need to rid ourselves of all traditions.”

It was raining.

“I would have to be raining,” muttered Glorfindel as he scrubbed the bottom of his left foot. “Makes all the sense in Arda for it to rain. I hope for a sunny day, but no. It rains.”

He leaned back in the tub, relishing the warm water before it cooled down. Normally, he simply took a quick shower in the public bathing house, but on this special day he had arranged for a tub to be brought to his rooms. He woke to the maids assembled in a line outside of his door with buckets of scalding water that would cool while he ate breakfast. As he ate in silence alone in his room and watched the steam rise from the metal basin that sat awkwardly beside his bed, he reminded himself not to eat overly much in case he became nervous (which he already was), and not to eat too little for he would fast for the rest of the week and the last thing he wanted was his stomach grumbling and disrupting his meditation.

He rose from the bath carefully so that the water did not spill too much, though there were towels on the floor around the tub to catch the errant droplets. He combed through his hair after patting himself off and wrapping the towel around his waist. After braiding all of the golden strands together, he went to the chair where he had set out clothing the night before. A simply pair of loose black pants and a white shirt that was slit down the front with very plain white embroidery on the edges awaited him. He had skipped the loincloth on Erestor’s suggestion that the last thing he wanted to do was wait to dry in damp undergarments.

No shoes, no weapons. No adornments of any sort. He unbraided his hair now that it was dry and shook it out, combing through the golden mane again. Before leaving the room, he knelt beside his bed. But it was not to Eru that he spoke.

“Well, Nana,” he began, “I wish I was saying this to you directly right now, but at least I am able to say it. I hope you are proud of me; I think you would be. Remember how you always told me those stories when I was little, and how you would tell me they were from a book you read as a little girl? And how there were other things you wanted to tell me that Adar would not allow? I found out what they are, Nana. Erestor has helped me – I know you probably do not know who that is, but I wish you did, Nana. He is... he is wonderful, you would like him. I like him. I like him very much,” Glorfindel admitted. “I think he likes me, but not quite the way that I like him. Love him. I love him,” he amended shyly. “Maybe, someday, I can tell him that. Anyway,” he finished, “I just wanted you to know. I love you. Maybe someday, in Valinor, you might meet him. I truly hope so.”

With a deep sigh, Glorfindel rose and took the heavy green book from his table. He blew out the candles and then left, leaving the door open and unlocked for the maids to empty the water and remove the tub. Then, he headed to the river, only smiling and nodding to those who passed by. When he reached the door to leave the house, he found Melpomaen standing at the entrance, with Tor on a leash wagging his fluffy white tail with loud thumps against the floor.

“I know you do not want anyone there, so I wanted to just say, I am so happy for you.” Melpomaen kept his voice low, in case he might embarrass Glorfindel.

“You are coming to the party at week’s end, are you not?” asked Glorfindel.

Melpomaen nodded enthusiastically. “I plan to be one of the first there and one of the last to leave!”

“Excellent!” Glorfindel clasped him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Mel. I have to say, I am a little nervous.”

“Do not worry. Master Erestor has not let anyone drown yet.” To this, they both laughed. “You will be fine. The worse part is the confession, I think.”

“Yes, I suppose,” agreed Glorfindel. “I kept worrying I would say something that would make him tell me I was not allowed in!”

“Eru loves everyone,” Melpomaen said, speaking a little louder and with confidence now. “He would forgive of anything.”

“I know. Well, I had best not keep Erestor waiting,” said Glorfindel. He bent down and scratched Tor behind the ears while his hand was licked and nuzzled. “Such a cute puppy,” he said. “Such a good boy. Oh, yes, you are a good boy. Yes, you are,” he continued as if the dog was arguing, when in fact, he had a lopsided grin on his little doggie face.

Melpomaen grinned. “Do you like dogs?”

“Very much,” said Glorfindel. “I had one when I was little that was either half-wolf or half-warg, I never knew which. One of the two mated with one of my father’s hunting hounds – oh, was he furious! When they were born, they were so wild, except for the runt. The others he let go when they were weaned from their mother – she escaped not long after. I kept the last one. He used to let me ride on him. We would tear through the forest, racing around the trees. He was a good dog.”

“Perhaps if I ever need a puppy-sitter, I might call upon you,” said Melpomaen as he stepped aside from the doorway.

“Anytime,” said Glorfindel. He returned the wave from Melpomaen as he headed out the door and down the stairs. Pausing, he smiled as he was greeted by the sun, pushing the rainclouds away. Though the grass was damp, the sky was clearing and Glorfindel continued on his way. He was halfway through the courtyard when he was stopped yet again. “Good day, little princess,” he said as Arwen bounded over to him and thrust her arms toward him. Squatting down and tucking the book under his arm, he lifted her up into his arms.

“Mmmm, you smell clean,” she said as her nanny approached from the bench they had been playing at. “Did you use soap today?”

“Arwen!” scolded the nanny as Glorfindel laughed.

“And your hair is down, too,” the little peredhel noticed, rubbing some of the strands of gold between her fingers. “Nana said you are getting reborned again today.”

“Arwen, I think you are bothering Lord Glorfindel quite enough,” apologized the nanny as she made to take the child, but Glorfindel shook his head.

Smiling at the girl, Glorfindel said, “Yes, your Nana is right. I need to meet Erestor down at the Bruinen, though, so I need to go now.”

“Alright, but does that mean that you have two birthdays then?” she asked, her big eyes giving him a questioning look. “I do not mind if you do; I will even make you two presents!”

Chuckling and handing her into the waiting arms of her caretaker, Glorfindel said, “No, little princess, I still have just the one.” Pausing as he mulled it over, he then said, “Actually, I have two already, so this makes three.”

“Three sets of presents?” Arwen’s eyes widened even more at the prospect.

“No,” he laughed, patting her head. “When you are older, if you want, I will explain it to you sometime,” he assured her. “I will see you in a few days,” he added. “There is a party at the end of the week.”

“I know!” she shouted excitedly. “I am going to wear my green dress, and Erestor already said he will dance with me!”

“Good, I will see you then.” Glorfindel waved to Arwen and her nanny, and continued on his way, hastening his steps now.

At the river, Erestor was already standing knee-deep in the flowing water. He smiled when he saw Glorfindel approach. “You are late, you know,” he shouted. “I was about to send out a search party!”

“Sorry about that,” he called back. “I had to fight my way past a scribe, a puppy, and a little girl with lots of questions.”

“A likely story,” Erestor teased. He waited for Glorfindel to find a place to set the book where it would not get wet, and then motioned for him to come into the river.

Walking out to where Erestor was, Glorfindel felt the mud and pebbles stir up beneath his feet. He paused for a moment to adjust to the temperature and current before continuing. Once he was standing before Erestor, he stopped. “Is here good?”

“Maybe a little further. You are fairly tall.” They walked until they came to where the river was hip high. “Now,” said Erestor when they stopped again, “if you want to go back to the shore right now, not a problem. I will not say anything to anyone and it will be perfectly fine if you do.”

“No. I want to do this,” Glorfindel said with absolute certainty.

Erestor nodded and smiled. “I am very happy for you,” he said. “I am also very proud of you, and not just for this. I have never told you, but you have grown so much since when you were in Gondolin. Spiritually, and intellectually even. I hope you are not offended by my saying that.”

“No, I thank you for your words,” said Glorfindel honestly. “I... hardly hear anyone telling me anything like that.”

“I should have told you years ago,” Erestor said a little sadly. “Sometimes, we just assume such things are known. So... did Melpomaen assure you I would not let you drown?”

Grinning, Glorfindel said, “I trusted you not to even before he mentioned it.”

“I am going to support you behind your back,” said Erestor. “If you want to, you can hold your own nose, or else I can. The main thing is to just relax and trust me. And of course, to trust Him.”

“I trust both of you,” said Glorfindel as Erestor slid his arm behind Glorfindel’s back. Licking his lips and taking a deep breath, Glorfindel folded his hands together. “Can I close my eyes?”

“That part is up to you. Do you want me to hold your nose?” asked Erestor. Glorfindel nodded. “Alright. Just relax now.”

Glorfindel took another breath of air and closed his eyes, holding it in his lungs. He felt Erestor’s fingers pinch his nose, and then he felt the same hand putting pressure on his jaw and chin while Erestor’s other hand came around the side and pulled down on his chest. Glorfindel relaxed his joints and muscles, and felt the water rush over him, covering finally up over his head.

His chest tightened, and he fought not to break free and rise up for air. He could hear muffled speaking above him, and concentrated on that and not the ache of his lungs. When Erestor ended his prayer, he felt himself being pulled back up. The water ran down his face as he gasped and took in air. It took a few breaths as he wiped the water from his face before he opened his eyes, pushing his soaked hair back over his shoulders.

“Congratulations, my friend,” said Erestor nearly as wet now as Glorfindel.

“Thank you. Thank you for everything,” Glorfindel said as they walked back to the shore.

“It has been my pleasure,” said Erestor. When they came to shore, Erestor took off his shirt and wrung it out into the river. Glorfindel followed suit as the dark elf slung the damp shirt around his shoulders and retrieved a towel and a comb from some spot. He used the towel to wrap around the book to keep it dry, while the comb he handed to Glorfindel. “I know of the perfect spot for meditation, unless you have another place in mind already.”

“Please, lead on,” said Glorfindel as he hung his shirt over his shoulder and began to comb his blond locks as they walked.

Halfway to their destination, Glorfindel realized where they were going, and was happy when they finally reached the ridge overlooking the valley. “I really love this place,” he said as he tossed his shirt over a tree branch to dry.

“That was the impression that I got,” said Erestor as he spread his shirt over another branch, and then removed his pants and did the same with those. “I wanted to find a spot where we would be undisturbed, and I thought you would prefer to remain outdoors if possible.”

“This is perfect.” Glorfindel wriggled out of his trousers and added them to the hospitable tree. Sitting down in the grass, he folded back the towel from the book. “And thank you again for letting me borrow this. I have enjoyed reading it.”

“You are welcome. I thought we could spend this time discussing some of the things that you have read,” suggested Erestor. “Praying a little, of course – we can just play things by ear.”

“That sounds good to me.” Glorfindel opened the book and asked, “Can I ask you something about this book?”

“Yes, of course,” said Erestor, who was sitting with his legs stretched out before him.

“Why would anyone ever want to rewrite it?”

Erestor laughed. “Well,” he began, “when the twelve books of the elders were first compiled as Laws and Customs of the Eldar, everyone liked them very much. And then, after the Noldor revolted and crossed over the sea, they needed to justify everything that they had done – greed, envy, wrath, all of it. So, little by little, they rewrote things.”

“Because I like this version much better than the one everyone uses today,” said Glorfindel. “I especially like the passages regarding marriages between those of the same gender.”

Chuckling, Erestor said, “I thought you might. There are two things I have to say about what you have just said. First, the reason that the original passage was removed was so that more couples of one male and one female would marry, thus creating more little elflings who would then grow up and either fight for the elven armies or make more little elflings, and so the cycle continues.”

“Huh. And the second thing?” asked Glorfindel.

Erestor smiled. “The second thing is, that is just one of the many, many good reasons that ‘we’ do not use the version of Laws and Customs that ‘everyone’ else uses today.”

“I like how you dance with me more than I like how Ada dances,” admitted Arwen to Erestor.

“Do you, now?” Erestor smirked. “I would think it would be fun to step on his toes.”

“He makes me stand on his feet so that he does not step on mine,” pouted Arwen in a most adorable way.

Erestor led his partner around the outer edge of the room. “He has great concern for you,” said the dark elf, who had to slouch a bit to reach Arwen’s arms. “He does not wish to see you hurt.”

“I like this way,” she said, allowing herself to be twirled again. “You dance more fun than he does. Glorfindel dances weird with me,” she added.

“Does he?” smiled Erestor.

Arwen nodded. “He picks me up and dances with me in his arms. I think he gets confused sometimes about what to do with a lady.”

To this, Erestor could not help but burst into laughter, and Arwen, thinking she had made a grand joke (which she unknowingly had), giggled along with him.

Away from the dancers at a nearby table, Elrond leaned toward his wife, placing his hand behind her neck to rub it and then kissed her cheek endearingly. “I wonder, sometimes.”

“Wonder about what?” she asked, winking at Glorfindel, for she knew what was coming.

“I wonder about Erestor. And little Arwen,” he replied, putting his arm around her shoulder and watching his daughter dotingly.

“What about Erestor and Arwen?” questioned Glorfindel before hungrily stabbing his fork into a bowl of fruit salad. After the initial greetings and congratulations from the other partygoers, Glorfindel had made himself a permanent resident of the table closest to the food.

Elrond smiled, and Celebrian grinned. Glorfindel looked up with a most confused look. “What? Am I missing something?”

“My lord husband has the idea in his head that he might make a match between them some years to come. They already adore each other, and Erestor is an honorable elf,” said Celebrian.

“Erestor?” squeaked Glorfindel. He cleared his throat and in a more masculine tone, once again asked, “Erestor? I mean, no doubt, he is honorable. A very good and kind ellon – but for Arwen? She is so young, and he is so, so, so, so, so, so, very, very old.”

Shrugging, Elrond said, “It is merely a thought. Only time will tell.”

Setting his fork down on his plate, Glorfindel pushed it away a bit. His appetite lost, he turned his attention to the dancers. Arwen was yawning more and more, and when the song ended, Erestor escorted her back to her parents. “Nana, I want another dessert,” she said, crawling up onto her mother’s lap.

“Oh, I think it may be time for bed instead.” Celebrian cuddled Arwen close and lifted her up as she stood. “Say good night to everyone.”

“Night night.” Arwen waved her hand to her uncles and her father, who stood up and gave her a kiss and a hug before Celebrian walked out of the Great Hall with her.

Elrond sat back down and studied the crowd. “Had Lindir been up there all night now?” he asked, motioning to the minstrel on the small stage that had been erected in the corner.

“Yes, I do believe so,” said Erestor, looking over his shoulder. “He wanted to keep the music going all night long.”

“When does he get to dance?” Elrond looked at his advisors, neither of whom had the answer. “Do you think he ever wants to?”

“Probably,” said Erestor. “He just never gets the chance.”

Leaning back in his chair, Elrond mused this over. “Do you still play fiddle, Erestor?”

“Aye, m’lord. My violin is in the music room, last one on the rack. It should still be in fairly good tune from last month when I practiced,” he answered.

The elf-lord looked to Glorfindel. “Someone told me that you sing very well.”

“Oh?” Glorfindel glanced at Erestor. “I wonder who that was.”

“Melpomaen,” answered Elrond. “He said that by the river some of you were singing and your voice was so very rich and clear you put the others to shame.”

“I would not go so far as to say that,” Glorfindel argued, his cheeks flushing.

“I would.” Erestor was swiping chunks of fruit from Glorfindel’s discarded bowl. “With the exception of Ecthelion, no other save the Valar have a sweeter voice. I even prefer your singing over Daeron’s.”

With a grin, Elrond stood up. “It is settled, then. I shall retrieve our instruments, Erestor. I hope we will know some tunes we can play to accompany you.” The peredhel was already on his way before Glorfindel could protest further.

“Right now,” said Erestor, “is your chance to escape if you like.”

“No, I... I can sing a few songs,” relented Glorfindel. Watching as Erestor finished off the rest of the fruit salad, he slid his plate of cheese and roasted duck in the older elf’s direction. “Care to finish this, too?”

“Mmm, yes, I am starving – not the meat, though,” he said, pulling a face.

“Arwen would not touch it, either,” said Glorfindel. He sighed, somewhat sadly. “Elrond is right about that, I suppose.”

“Right about what?” asked Erestor, folding the slices of cheese until they would not fold anymore and then popping them into his mouth.

Glorfindel twisted the stem of his wine glass, spinning it slowly back and forth on the table. “That you and Arwen would be a good match.”

“What?!” Erestor coughed and nearly choked on the food in his mouth. Reaching over Glorfindel’s arm, he snagged the goblet and drank the remaining wine. “Arwen?”

“Hmm? Yes.”

“Arwen... and myself? Elrond’s daughter is only just barely learning to read and write and he is already trying to find her a prospective suitor?” Erestor’s mouth gaped open as he waited for Glorfindel to confirm this.

“And you are the lucky elf he has chosen!” Glorfindel grinned, relief washing over him. “Your thoughts?”

“Uhm, let me think. How about... no. I positively refuse to court anyone whose dirty diaper I have changed.”

“My, what high standards you have!” teased Glorfindel.

Erestor lightly punched Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Oh, shut up, you git. Actually, it does make things rather difficult holding to that – do you know how many diapers I have actually changed in my lifetime?”

“No, but I can gladly say you never changed mine!”

Before Erestor could ask Glorfindel just exactly what he meant by that, Elrond returned with the pair of fiddles. “Shall we?” asked Elrond.

The trio approached the stage, with Erestor plucking the strings of his violin to check the pitch. Elrond climbed up the stairs and went to Lindir, whispering something to the musician. He grinned, and cut the song he was playing short. “Dear ladies and gentlefolk,” said Lindir, bowing to the crowd who unexpectedly stopped the dance, “I wish to present to you an absolute treat this evening. Our three resident elf-lords are going to entertain you with what I am sure will be a plethora of songs and ballads that are from well before I was even born.” This received laughter from the audience and a friendly sort of glare from Elrond. “Please welcome them, and do enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“What do you want to sing first,” asked Erestor to Glorfindel.

The blond thought about it while he climbed the steps and then spoke so that both Erestor and Elrond could hear. “Do you know the song ‘Birds of a Feather’? Nice, simple, fast tune.”

“I only know the melody,” admitted Elrond, and Erestor said, “Play the melody, I can work out something for the harmony. Ready? One, and two, and-“

As they began their musical debut, Lindir hurried down the stairs in hopes to find a dance partner. He did not need to wait long.

“You may have the next dance with him; I asked him first,” said one elleth to another in a wary tone.

A third came over and batted her eyelashes, smiling prettily to the minstrel. “Might you have time to dance with me as well?”

“Ladies,” Lindir said with a smile, “I have ample time and have been resting my legs all night. I have hours of dancing before me!”

“Elrond?” Erestor nudged the peredhel where they were sitting behind Glorfindel, having heard what the half-elf would not have. “We are going to be here for a while.”

Storms that churned the clouds and turned the sky a shade of green were the kinds of storms that Glorfindel could have done without. They had gone for many months without a thunderstorm, but this one was making up for lost time. There was little rest between the cracks and booms, and the rumbling growls that made him recall a short battle he secretly wished he had never fought.

Many elves made it through these nights by plugging their ears with wax; something that Celebrian had shown the children earlier in the evening while many sat in the Hall of Fire watching the windows be pelted with hail and rain. Glorfindel had taken the pair of white blobs she had handed him, but they were still sitting on his table. Even knowing that the storm was raging, feeling the slight sway of the house, would give him nightmares that would cause him to wake in terror.

Instead, he wandered the halls in this late hour, not wanting to rouse Erestor from his reverie. He felt he owed it to the dark ellon to allow him a night of rest after three long days and nights of meditation followed by a night of singing and fiddling that lasted until the sun rose once more. Everywhere he went, Glorfindel found the house deserted – not even a stray maid fixing a bite for a weary stable hand who had found himself caught in the rain. Even the hounds were snoring loudly near the larder door with their fattened bellies in the air, and the big orange cat whose occupation was chief mouse hunter barely opened his one good eye as Glorfindel passed him sleeping on a chair near the front door and scratched behind his ears.

He began from the top of the house and worked his way to the bottom. He did not have his keys for the secret ways, but there were enough rooms in the main house to amuse him for the better part of an hour. There were the two grand halls of course, the kitchens and the private dining halls. Little time was spent in the glass enclosed greenhouse and he found that someone had left an empty mug and saucer in the painter’s conservatory.

By the time he reached the lowest level of the house, he was debating going back to the kitchen to make something to eat. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw a door that was open, with candle and firelight flickering against the opposite wall in the hallway.

“I was not aware of the fact that our library was open both day and night,” Glorfindel said, poking his head into the doorway.

“I like that idea. Except, then I would not be able to be here after hours. Nevermind,” decided Erestor, who was seated cross legged on a couch he had pulled near to the large fireplace, “bad idea. We are still closing at sundown.”

“Oh, you had my hopes up for a moment.” Glorfindel wandered into this room as well, approaching Erestor slowly. “What are you doing?” he asked, looking at the table beside the couch. On it were a number of small cups and bowls with what appeared to be different colors of ink in them. There were also some quills with very sharp points and stained tips, and a brush that Erestor carefully put down.

Leaning against the arm of the couch was a medium-sized mirror. Erestor was using it to look at something that he had painted on his arm. “I cannot seem to sleep. Have you ever been up for so long that when you try to sleep, you cannot sleep? That is the trouble I am having.”

“But, what are you doing?” Glorfindel picked up one of the quills and touched the point with his finger. “Yeow!”

“Careful! Those are sharp,” warned Erestor.

“A little too late,” said Glorfindel, setting down the quill. He examined his finger, finding a tiny droplet of blood welling up from the smooth pad. “That really smarts!”

“I know.” Erestor picked up the brush again and applied a few more strokes of black ink to his shoulder. “Well? What do you think? ‘Tis hard for me to tell at this angle.”

Glorfindel walked around to the side and looked at Erestor’s arm. “Looks like your cobra.”

“Good! Because I would hate for it to end up looking like a giraffe,” he said.

“A what?”

“At Cuivienen, there were these creatures, like deer with necks that were two or three stories high and legs taller than an elf. In some books, I have seen men call them giraffes,” explained Erestor. He took the brush and on his left arm, drew a crude image of one.

“That is just weird,” remarked Glorfindel while Erestor picked up one of the quills and dipped it into a cup of green ink. “Are you doing that skin art thing again?”

“Does it look like that is what I am doing?”

Glorfindel looked about. “Actually, yes. Yes, it does.”

“Well, that is exactly what I am doing,” said Erestor. He propped his left arm to steady it and began to poke at the image on his right shoulder with the quill.

“Does that not hurt?” questioned Glorfindel with much concern.

“Of course it does. That is part of how you know you are doing it right. Ow! That one went a little deep,” muttered the librarian, concentrating more on his task.

Biting his lip, Glorfindel queried, “Why do you do it if it hurts?”

Looking at Glorfindel with confusion, Erestor answered, “Because... I want to?”

“Very mature answer,” mumbled Glorfindel as he pulled a chair over and sat down backwards on it. “How long do these last?”

“They start to fade after about two or three hundred years; about five and they are gone completely. There are ways of making them permanent, but I reserve that for very special designs because it is a little more difficult and a little more painful.” Erestor dropped the empty quill into a glass of water, where green and red swirls spun around the liquid turning it brown. Picking up a cloth, Erestor pressed it against his shoulder before retrieving the quill again.

“How much does it hurt?” asked Glorfindel as Erestor began to work with a different shade of green.

Erestor looked past the mirror and stopped his work. “Hold out your hand.”

“No!” Glorfindel scooted backwards, chair and all. Laughing, Erestor went back to his task. A few minutes passed before Glorfindel placed his hand on the edge of the couch.
Erestor looked up to see that Glorfindel’s eyes were squinted shut.

His eyes snapped open when he felt the feather tickling the back of his hand. “Why do you care if it hurts or not?” Erestor’s grin was mischievous.

“No reason.” Glorfindel withdrew his hand as Erestor tapped the feather end of the quill against his own nose, narrowing his eyes at the slayer.

“Here.” Erestor handed the quill to Glorfindel. “Finish mine and we will have time for me to do one for you.”

“What? No.” Glorfindel tried to get Erestor to take the quill back. When Erestor folded his hands together smugly, Glorfindel placed the feather onto the table. “No. I will not hurt you.”

“It does not hurt that much.”

“Sayeth you,” replied Glorfindel warily.

Before he had the time to react, Glorfindel found Erestor gripping his arm tightly while his other hand retrieved the quill. He jerked his arm, but to no avail. “Wait!” he panicked, still trying to pull away, and he let out a little whine when the needle-sharp tip poked past his skin.

“See? That was not as bad as you thought, was it?” insisted Erestor as he let go of Glorfindel’s arm.

“You poked me,” pouted the blond, twisting his arm to examine it. He rubbed the spot of green that was now barely visible. “Great. It will be there for the next half-millennium. Stupid green spot.”

“No, it is the beginning of a stupid green something,” explained Erestor as he continued the work on his own creation.

Glorfindel glared at the counselor. “You might have used a different color.”

“Hush, you like green,” countered Erestor. “Matches your eyes.”

“My eyes have blue in them, too,” snorted Glorfindel.

“Fine. Compliments your eyes, then. Quit complaining.”

For several minutes, Glorfindel sat brooding on his chair, every now and again looking at the offensive dot on his arm. Erestor had moved on to the red ink with a different quill. “If these fade, how did you make the one on your ankle stay there all of the time?”

“I did not simply use ink on that one,” said Erestor. “In Greenwood, they have a technique of tinting metals and creating a thick ink from them that is only liquid when warm.” Erestor paused his work and lifted his foot up. “If you feel the markings, there is something solid and less pliable about the skin. That is because there is a sort of thin metal underneath between the skin and bone.”

“Could you take it out if you wanted to?” asked Glorfindel, his fingertips pressing against the slightly embossed flesh.

Nodding, Erestor said, “Certainly, though it would be much more painful taking it out than it is to put it in.”

Glorfindel pulled away, and then looked at the half-finished image on Erestor’s arm. “Here, let me do that,” he said, taking the quill from Erestor. He discovered it was much faster for him to complete the design than for Erestor to attempt it using the mirror.

When it was done, Erestor took possession of the quill and thanked Glorfindel for his aid. “Now, yours.”

“No. Now, I go take a nap,” argued Glorfindel, but Erestor had a grip on his arm again. “Wait, no. Hold on, what are you going to do?”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to let go of my arm,” begged Glorfindel, and Erestor released his hold. “Thank you.”

Erestor sighed and nodded, then started to clean up the mess. Glorfindel frowned and picked up a clean, dry cloth to wipe the water from the quills as Erestor cleaned them. As the last one was dried, Glorfindel looked at it with contemplation. Dipping it into the same green ink that he was marked with, Glorfindel offered it to Erestor, and rested his elbow on the arm of the sofa to give Erestor access to what he had already started.

Grinning much like an elfling in a confectionary, Erestor took up the quill and studied the pale skin. “What to do... oh! I could play connect-the-dots with your freckles!”

“Do. Not. Dare,” warned the blond.

“Alright. Seriously.” Erestor pondered for a bit. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“No, I am foolishly giving you control of the situation.” Glorfindel gave Erestor a pleading look. “Do not make me regret that.”

Picking up the brush, Erestor dipped it into the black ink and began to paint fine lines around the spot he had made earlier. “Alright, what do you think of that?”

Glorfindel craned his neck and twisted his arm around. “A dove.”

“Is it alright?”

“I like it,” nodded Glorfindel. “How will you work in the green?”

“A golden flower in his beak, I suppose. Unless you have another idea?” Erestor was rearranging the quills and the ink, and Glorfindel agreed.

- - -

“There. All done.”

Opening his eyes, which he had kept squeezed shut the whole time, Glorfindel tried to see the image on his skin. He noticed the mirror and turned to get a better look.

Erestor tapped Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Not so bad, right?”

Glorfindel was busily admiring Erestor’s work. “What? Oh, yes. I mean, no. No, it was not bad at all.”

“Good. In a few hundred years, we can do this again.” Erestor yawned and took the quill he had been holding and the cloth to the table. He washed everything again and then placed all of the items back into the leather case he kept them in. “Well?”

“Thank you,” said Glorfindel absently.

“No, no, do you like it?” Erestor strolled up behind the warrior. “Is it satisfactory?”

“Very much so,” Glorfindel said sincerely. “You said it will not fade for a while?”

“Two, maybe three hundred years. When it does fade,” said Erestor, loosening the tie of his pants (as Glorfindel’s eyes practically began to bulge out of their sockets), “it will start to look like this.” He let the drawstring go a bit and pushed the material down off of his left hip, revealing the faded image of an eagle in flight.

“Very nice,” remarked Glorfindel, staying his hand from touching the flesh that was bared to him. “Nice artwork,” he amended quickly. “I... I never noticed that before.”

“This one, I did four hundred some years ago, I think. Been there a while.” Erestor pulled the material back up and retied the drawstring. “Well, I need a little rest before the rest of the household awakens. Good... morning, I suppose,” he said, yawning again as he gave the blond a pat on the shoulder and picked up his case from the table.

“It certainly is,” smiled Glorfindel after Erestor had left the library.

Friends of old, friends anew
The silver ones, and golden, too
Greet the old ones from your past
And make anew friendships to last


The very last week of the summer in Rivendell was spent in a most peculiar way, according to the elves of the other realms. Everyone in Imladris, whether resident or traveler, elf or man or dwarf, young and old, and everyone in between, hailed the coming harvest and the colder weather to follow along with the blocking of the pass with a tradition created not by Elrond, nor his wife, nor any of his counselors. It was the proud contribution that Elladan and Elrohir had made to the realm. When you woke, you went to the Great Hall, where you chose a crown of flowers to be worn at all times beginning that evening (except for bathing and sleeping). For one week, no one would be a lord or a lady or a servant or a maid - everyone would be friends.

Food was prepared for the week well in advance, and the first day would consist of a late afternoon feast. By then, most everyone had their crown, but these would be kept hidden in everyone’s personal living quarters. Although there were tables and chairs in the Great Hall, everyone would be in constant movement, for every five to ten minutes, Elrond would bellow from wherever in the room he was ‘SWITCH!’ and everyone was expected to move to a different seat, or to sit instead of stand or vice versa. This would ensure that everyone would meet at least one person they had not in the previous year, and see someone they had not the time for since last autumn.

In the afternoon, the rest of the flowers would be plucked from the gardens, for the chill in the air would cause them to wither and die anyhow. The children would weave them into garlands for adorning the now bare trellises and the gazebo, as well as the doors to the stables, barns, forge, and every other building they could find. The rest were taken inside and wound about the banisters, and if any were left, might be used in the Hall of Fire.

Then came the party in the evening, with an ample flow of wine. It was now that everyone would wear their floral crowns, and the trick was to find your match for the week. This was the one you would converse with, the person you would spend your meals with, and generally all of your time for the next six days.

Secretly, as Glorfindel adjusted the daisies and violets that were wound around his head, he hoped that Erestor would be wearing the same combination of flowers. He took a deep breath before leaving his room. The likelihood was very bleak; not once in all the years had that occurred, and with a growing population it was less and less likely.

The first person he encountered in the hallway was Melpomaen, with Tor on his leash sporting a carnation from Melpomaen’s crown wrapped around his tail. Pink and yellow carnations, which made Glorfindel grin at the stark contrast against the secretary’s dark hair. “How are things with you today, Mel?”

“Oh, just marvelous!” Melpomaen decided to pick up his puppy to keep them moving quickly down the hall, converging with others going to the party. “And you?”

“I am well,” lied Glorfindel, making a note to himself he would have to speak to Eru about that small transgression later. “I am anxious to discover who I am paired with for the week.”

“So am I – oh, I am being summoned,” laughed the scribe, seeing Lindir waving madly from down the hall with both arms above his head. The minstrel had donned a crown of white carnations and red roses. “He always gets the best ones,” muttered Melpomaen.

“He weaves them, does he not?” winked Glorfindel. “Enjoy the celebration,” he called, unsure of whether Melpomaen heard him as they were swept in different directions down the hallway.

Glorfindel spied the twins – Elladan with ivy tilted on his brow and a smattering of tiny purple clusters. Elrohir was not far away, but his head was covered in bright orange lilies and he had already found his companion – one of the men apprenticing as a blacksmith.

Each time he passed another with a different crown of flowers than he, his hopes rose a little. Glorfindel had yet to look for Erestor in the crowd that was in the Hall of Fire once he arrived, but instead sought out Elrond at the hearth. Beside the lord of the valley stood his wife, looking about with a watchful eye, her crown of carnations making Glorfindel grin. “I know who your ma-atch is,” he told his cousin in a sing-song voice.

“I do not real-ly ca-are,” she sang back. “I will fi-ind them my-y se-elf.”

Elrond gave Glorfindel a look as if to ask if it was anyone he need worry about being alone with his wife for the better part of the week, but Glorfindel grinned wider and shook his golden mane. “Where is little Arwen?”

“With a young dwarven lad near her own age – she was thrilled, compared to last year,” said Elrond. The previous year, Arwen had been paired with an accountant from one of the nearby towns of men. Her experience was abysmal and made her ask her parents if she could skip learning math. Glorfindel had ever since been unsure of whether or not to ever mention to her that beyond his duties as the horse master of the realm and chief of the military when required, that he was also the house accountant.

It was during his mind wandering that Glorfindel’s eyes betrayed his head and fell upon the dark counselor. Indeed, his heart sank, for resting on the silken black hair he so secretly longed to touch was a ring of red roses and white carnations. He sighed as he took note of the serving girl whom Erestor was speaking to, for she had a crown of daisies and violets.

Excusing himself, Glorfindel turned back to greet the maiden, but was surprised when he could not see her in the crowd. Frowning, he walked from one end of the room to the other, utterly bewildered.

“Will you please hold still for a moment! My goodness, it is not a race!”

Glorfindel turned around, finding Erestor standing behind him, a bit winded. “Mingle, Glorfindel, mingle,” panted the dark haired advisor. “What part of mingle makes you think run willy-nilly from one side of the hall to the next?”

That was when Glorfindel realized that Erestor was not wearing red roses any longer. “What happened to your crown?”

“Nothing,” said Erestor quickly, shooing Glorfindel outside into the hallway as the blond said, “I could have sworn you had carnations and roses.”

“Shh!” Erestor looked around, and saw an abandoned alcove away from the crowds. He took hold of Glorfindel’s hand (‘He’s holding my hand!’ screamed the excited little voice in Glorfindel’s head.) and pulled him into the hidden space. “Do you want to get me in trouble? I swapped with someone,” he hissed in a low voice. “Nice young girl, she was so hoping to be paired with Lindir. I do hope he does not tell on me – I had already found him, and then when I came into the Hall to see Elrond for a moment, I bumped into her.”

“She told me how much she had been hoping to match with him for the week, so I cleverly switched our crowns,” finished Erestor.

Glorfindel looked mightily impressed. “How did you manage to do that without everyone noticing?”

Motioning for Glorfindel to stand up, Erestor positioned himself as close as he had been to the young maiden. Placing a hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder, he said, “Well, I am sure you will have a chance to spend the time you like with him in the very near future.” He lifted his arm up, but caught his wrist on the edge of the crown, causing it to flip off of Glorfindel’s head and onto the floor. “How clumsy of me! Allow me,” he insisted, stooping down to the floor.

While bent over, Erestor bowed his head low, causing his own crown to fall to the ground. As he stood up, Glorfindel realized that the dark elf had placed the other crown on his own head, and was offering the crown originally belonging to the maiden to Glorfindel. “There you are, my dear. Now, off you go.”

“Brilliant!” smiled Glorfindel as he took the crown and settled it on his golden hair.

“I hope you do not mind being stuck with me for the week,” apologized Erestor.

Glorfindel could do little more than smile.

“You head back to the border in just a few days.”

Erestor’s comment was a jolt back to reality for Glorfindel. “That is correct.”

“Hmm. Ever think about staying in the city and giving up the patrols?” wondered Erestor. They were lounging in the grass in a little glen near the house. Nearby was a basket of apples and another with plums. One of the few tasks performed by everyone during the week was the harvesting of the late season fruit before it was either taken by wild creatures or left rotting on the trees and bushes. It was done lazily by all involved, however, with everyone doing a little bit it did indeed get done.

“Sometimes. I like the solace, though. I also have a need to feel I am doing my part to protect the valley,” said Glorfindel. “Of course, there are some very good reasons for me to stay here all of the time.”

“I would think there would be.” And Erestor left it at that, for the sounds of two very frustrated children were advancing upon the pair. The dark ellon sat up, and seeing Arwen and her new playmate, waved them over.

Bounding across the grass and plopping down into Erestor’s lap, Arwen snuggled against her uncle. “Uncle Ressor,” she pouted, “Bolin wants to hurt the trees.”

“I ‘on’t want to ‘urt the trees,” defended the dwarfling, swinging his wooden toy axe back and forth. “I only wanted to reach the top o’ the trees. I was only joking.”

“He said we should just cut them down,” sobbed Arwen.

“I said cou’d! We COU’D cut them down,” the dwarfling argued.

Glorfindel was sitting up now as well. “I would advise against the cutting down of any trees around here.”

“I wou’d not really,” pouted the dwarfling, and there was nothing so sad as a dwarfling in the midst of a pout.

“We cannot get to any of the fruit in the trees. Everything is much too high for us!” exclaimed Arwen. She pointed to the baskets they had discarded some feet away. “They are empty! Ada will be so mad!”

“Oh, hush, no he will not,” scolded Erestor gently, wiping away Arwen’s tears with his sleeve. “Come now, where are these trees with fruit that is unreachable?”

“But we want to pick them, not you,” complained the little peredhel as she was lifted off of Erestor’s lap.

He nodded. “And you shall.” Hoisting up his own bushel basket, he held out his other hand for Arwen and the pair walked to the smaller baskets. “Pick up yours and take the other to your friend. And, I think you should apologize to him – he really is not going to cut down anything, trees or otherwise.”

Arwen bowed her head and nodded, then picked up the baskets. She raced with them back to the dwarfling and handed his to him. “I am sorry Bolin. Friends again?”

“Indeed, m’lady,” he said, which made Arwen giggle.

She ran back to Erestor to take hold of his hand again. “He called me a lady,” she said in a quiet voice. “I think he likes me.” She giggled again.

Erestor smiled and looked back over his shoulder at Glorfindel, who was smirking as well. The blond picked up his basket and followed the trio where Bolin led them.

“There it is,” sighed Arwen as they came to a lone peach tree hidden beneath some tall old oaks. “We found it this morning, but the branches are too thin to climb without hurting it, and Ada would not let us bring a ladder out here.”

“I have an idea,” said Erestor after he took a walk around the tree. Crouching down on the ground, he said to Arwen, “Remember when you would ride on my shoulders when you were smaller?”

“Oh, do I!” she exclaimed, and scrambled up onto his shoulders with her basket tight in her hand. “This is great!” she shouted happily when she was settled and Erestor was standing up again. “I can nearly reach the top.”

Bolin looked on wistfully as Arwen reached out and plucked a peach from the tree for her basket. He turned his head when he heard a chuckling tenor voice say, “I am not doing this for my health, you know.”

Although Bolin was quite a sturdy lad, he was not as heavy as Glorfindel thought he looked. He stood with the dwarfling on his shoulders with ease, and soon a peach picking competition had begun.

- - -

After a day of picking fruit and watching clouds, the children had fallen asleep in the grass with Erestor and Glorfindel watching over them. The sun was just beginning to think about setting, while the moon appeared to have arrived a bit prematurely in the east. “Someday, I am going to follow the sun and make my way back to Valinor,” said Erestor, appropriate of nothing as the pair relaxed against the trees beneath the boughs of the oaks.

“I look forward to going, but I have yet to hear the call. Even when I am in Mithlond, Elrond says he can hear the sea harken unto him, but I myself have not,” admitted Glorfindel.

“Neither have I. Which, perhaps because of my heritage I never will, but I will go back someday,” Erestor said with confidence. “I shall go back, find myself a little piece of land with good soil, and start farming again. I think this time I will forgo fields of corn and carrots and potatoes and just care for fruit and nut trees instead.”

“Your own little orchard in Valinor,” remarked Glorfindel with a smile. “That sounds nice. I can see you finding a spot near the seaside, or next to a pond or a lake. Some place with a nice spot for you to sit and commune with nature and read.”

“That would be nice,” said Erestor, closing his eyes and imagining it. “I used to think, I would marry and have many children with my wife, and all of us would live together in a cozy cottage with a cat and a few dogs, maybe some rabbits. I would have a stable for my horses, and in the winter and early spring we would stay indoors and talk and sing and generally be... happy. But I have given up most of that dream,” Erestor confided to Glorfindel. “If I can have the farm and the cottage, and a few horses, I think that will suffice and I would be able to survive alone.”

“I would not want that for you.” Glorfindel stretched his arms over his head, fighting off fatigue. “I hope you find someone who truly makes you happy, and I hope you have these children you are always talking about. But if you do not, or even if you do, consider finding a spot with enough room next door for me to build a house of my own.”

“You would want to be my neighbor?” laughed Erestor. Glorfindel nodded emphatically. “That is just silly – if you want to live that close, we should just build a house big enough for both of us, and our families. Who knows – perhaps I will find a wife one day, or perhaps you and Gildor will want to finally settle.”

“Or perhaps we will end up living together with only each other for company during the long winters in a cottage beside an orchard with a cat, some dogs, and a few horses,” suggested Glorfindel.

Slowly a smile spread across Erestor’s face. “Perhaps we will,” he said.

“For you.”

Glorfindel took the wrapped package and blushed slightly. “You did not have to get me anything.”

“It really is not much,” said Erestor, rolling a stone back and forth beneath the toe of his shoe. “I think you will like it, though,” he added as Glorfindel untied the white ribbon adorned with a cluster of blue and white violets from the scrap of linen the item was wrapped in.

When the fabric fell away into his hand, Glorfindel let out a surprised, yet awestruck gasp. “Oh, Erestor, you cannot give this to me. This is your book.”

“No, this is your book. I have already read it so many times I have it memorized. I want you to have it now,” said the librarian. “I know you travel light for your tour on the border, but I thought you might have room in one of your saddlebags for it.”

Opening the book, the warrior found an inscription inside the front cover. “From the eagle to the dove,” he read softly, and smiled.

“At least for the next five hundred years or so.” Glancing toward the house to be sure no one was wandering about on that crisp autumn morning, Erestor pushed the side of his leggings down just a bit, enough for Glorfindel to see patches of black, brown, and white, and a golden beak.

Absently, Glorfindel’s fingers did touch the inked skin this time, and he pulled back when Erestor shivered. “You redid it.”

“Touched it up a bit – my, it is chilly out here,” the dark elf said as he covered his hip and then rubbed his hands against his arms.

“Thank you.” Glorfindel closed the book and caressed the cover, then held it to his chest. “I wish I had something to give to you.”

“The fact you are happy with my gift is enough,” said Erestor, smiling brightly.

“Still...” Glorfindel thought for a moment, and then boldly leaned closer and kissed Erestor’s cheek.

Laughing, Erestor reached out and pushed on Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Alright, that is quite enough.” Blushing furiously, he did a double take to be sure the courtyard was empty, and then made a shooing motion. “Go on, now. Time for you to go guard the borders.”

With a wide grin, Glorfindel circled around Asfaloth and put the book into one of his saddlebags, then mounted his steed. “Take care and have a good winter, Erestor,” said Glorfindel. “I will see you in the springtime.”

“And no doubt disturb my reading and tickle me again,” said the counselor wryly. Glorfindel stuck out his tongue. “Stay safe, Fin. Take care of yourself.”

Nodding, Glorfindel nudged Asfaloth forward, into a slow trot to the gate.

Erestor looked again one way and then the other, biting his lip as horse and rider left him further and further behind. As the blond was about to pass through the gate, Erestor suddenly shouted, “Fin!”

Glorfindel pulled back on the reins and turned Asfaloth sideways. Glancing at Erestor, the warrior gave him a look of concern. Then he saw Erestor look around nervously again, and when he was satisfied that there was no one else up at the early hour that Glorfindel always chose to leave, he lifted his hand to his lips and blew a kiss at the warrior – which Glorfindel of course caught before grinning giddily to himself and riding out through the gate.

- - -

Up in her bed, a little girl looked down out of her window and cocked her head to one side. “Nana?” she shouted, “Why is Uncle Ressor blowing kisses to Uncle Finny?”

Celebrian sighed and got out of bed, walking out of her own bedroom and into her daughter’s. Checking outside the window that Arwen was now standing at, Celebrian shook her head at the empty courtyard and tucked the child back in.

Elrond was sitting up in bed when Celebrian returned. “Something wrong?”

“No, nothing. Arwen was just having another strange dream,” commented Celebrian before snuggling in next to her husband.

**This chapter contains adult material, both het and slash. You have been warned.**

An innocent kiss on the cheek turned to something more passionate on the lips. “Did you miss me?” questioned the husky-voiced warrior as he stayed hovering over the dark advisor.

“Of.. of.. of course I did,” came the unsure stutter, hands gripping the book he had been reading tightly.

Glorfindel smiled and gently took the book from Erestor’s hands, placing it somewhere unseen. “You should ask me how my tour was.”

“How.. how.. was it?” queried the timid voice.

As Glorfindel licked his lips, he ran his fingers through Erestor’s silken black hair. “It was practically unbearable without you.”

“You.. wanted me on patrol with you?” came the innocent reply.

Another smile graced the blond ellon’s lips as he shook his head. “Oh, I wanted you,” he corrected himself. “We should remedy that, I think.”

Kisses began anew, Erestor against the tree with no means of escape, but making no attempts to. Glorfindel’s hands were moving up and down the length of the dark elf’s arms as his tongue darted out to taste the sweetness of the elder. “Delicious,” he remarked, causing Erestor to shudder.

“What are you doing to me?” asked the dark one meekly, finding himself suddenly on his back.

“What would you like me to do with you? What do you want me to do with you?” asked Glorfindel.

Erestor found himself unable to speak. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but finally, he shook his head, unknowing of what to say.

“Will you let me love you? Make love to you? Hold you in the morning, ravish you at night?” tempted Glorfindel.

Again, Erestor knew not what to say. His confusion caused him to nod a little, but shake his head as well, until he finally answered, “Fin, I... I do not know... I... I do not know if I can...”

“Tell me what you think of this.” The blond leaned down and kissed his jaw, licking his throat until Erestor whimpered. “And this?” Glorfindel leaned down, and somehow Erestor found his chest was bared, and his nipples were hardened. One of these the young warrior took into his mouth, suckling until Erestor cried out. “And? This?” Glorfindel leaned in, biting Erestor’s neck, just where he was most sensitive.

“I know exactly what you like, and where, and how. Oh, and how,” growled Glorfindel, his hand wrapping around Erestor’s hard shaft. “Oh, yes,” he purred, “I know all there is to know about you; I know more than you know yourself. You might deny me, but I know you want me. Perhaps my body is not what you desire, not the curve of my hip nor the sound of my voice that excites you. But there is more to it than that,” said Glorfindel in a promising voice as he stroked the keening elf beneath him. “Your soul is aching to find its mate, and if only you would give it the freedom to do so, you would realize that what you have been searching so long for is closer than you wish to admit.”

Moaning and writhing in passion, Erestor was losing the battle he fought to keep his wits. Passion burned within him, rose up, and spilled, and then- Glorfindel was gone.

- - -

Erestor awoke to his head throbbing, aching, pounding, and keeping him from further sleep. A dream, he realized, he had not fallen into reverie, he had dreamed something new, something that had not actually happened. Something that excited him. Erestor shuddered. Where had that thought come from?

Quickly, he pushed back the covers and set about to changing the sheets. For the first time in more years than he could count, he had messed the bed sheets with his own essence of pleasure. For an elf who had been celibate the entire age, it was something rather rare. He looked at the sheet, wadded up in his hand, before he cast it into a pile on the floor.

Then he stared at it for a good long time. In his subconscious mind, he had enjoyed his dream – the evidence was there. His heart raced when he realized that his waking mind found enjoyment and a thrill in the thought as well.

- - - x x x - - -

“Erestor?”

The dark ellon looked up from the flowerbeds that encircled the little cottage on the seashore. He smiled and waved, then walked to the window that looked out over the lawn from the kitchen as he removed his work gloves and draped them through a hole in the rose trellis. “M’lady,” he said with a flirtatious grin. He took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips, bestowing upon it a kiss. “What might I do for you this day?”

Giggling at his formality, the golden-haired elleth blushed and shook her head. “You may start by taking the garbage bin out to the back and emptying it. Then, I must know what you want for dinner, my husband.”

“Oh, whatever you wish,” replied the dark one as he circled around to the door. “Surprise me,” he called out toward the window.

Upon entering the house, Erestor found the bin had been placed near the entry. Just as he was about to pick it up, he caught sight of his wife near the window. She stood upon her tiptoes grasping a watering can. Closing the door silently behind him, he crept up as she hummed to herself, tending to the herbs in the window box.

“Erestor!” The watering can slipped from her grasp as she felt his hands grip her waist unexpectedly. It hit the floor, thankfully only splashing a little water out. She was twirled around to face him, and immediately he lifted her up onto the countertop. “I just cleaned that!” she pouted, but a smile was not far behind.

“Pity, for I plan to make a mess of it,” answered Erestor, nuzzling her neck. His fingers reached down and slowly pushed the soft fabric of her pink dress up over her thighs.

“Erestor, the children-“ she began.

“-will hear us and not come into the room!” he finished for her. His lips pressed against hers, his tongue pleading with her mouth to part her sweet lips. In the end, she did as he willed, moaning into his kisses as his hands wandered beneath the folds of her skirts.

Her head fell back, waist-length tresses pooling on the smooth surface of the counter like a golden lake. Erestor threaded his fingers into the shining locks and continued his passionate assault. Shifting closer, he loosed his grip and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to the edge of the counter. She gasped when she felt his erection, hard and bulging in his leggings, pushing against her.

“Feel that? That is what you do to me,” he told her, grinding himself against her. “That is how much I desire you, how much I want you. How much I need you, Glorfindel.”

- - -

“Right, well, I might have to change the name a bit,” said Glorfindel to Asfaloth, who was giving his master a most curious look. “Then again, ‘glor’ is neutral, ‘fin’ in feminine, and ‘del’ is questionable, so need I really?”

Asfaloth snorted, and appeared to laugh silently at his rider’s dilemma.

“Oh, can I help it if you do happen to like girls?” Glorfindel sighed. “Let me indulge myself with my fantasy - it is all I have. Well, I suppose there is always hope that maybe some day he suddenly decides that for all their grace and charm, an elleth is not really what he needs. He needs me. Right?”

Asfaloth chomped on some grass and pawed the ground.

“Exactly. Give it time. Time will tell. There is always hope.” Glorfindel leaned against the tree and closed his eyes, knowing Asfaloth would alert him if there was danger. “Always hope,” he murmured to himself before falling asleep with a smile on his face, the green book resting lovingly in his lap.