Never a morning person, Erestor was still rubbing his eyes sleepily when he approached the large windows of his sitting room and peeked through the curtains, hoping to see whether the milkmaid was about to pass by his door. Instead of looking down the path to see if this was the case, he found himself looking for the path itself. It, along with most everything else, was hidden under snow. Not a light dusting or a thin, translucent layer, but piles and drifts of thick, unforgiving snow. To cap it off, as he looked up, he saw massive icicles hanging down from the second story overhang.

Just in case he was subject to some cruel joke, he fetched a cap to cover his unbrushed hair and a robe for additional modesty. Each of the small residences in Imladris were woven together through a series of attached hallways that were entered through the backdoors of the small houses, allowing easy passage throughout the buildings without ever having to step outside. It was a security measure above all else, but it created a haven against weather or allowed for travel to a friend’s house at night with little fear of wandering wolves or angered boars.

Erestor left his house and entered the corridor. His ‘neighborhood’, as it was called, consisted of his home, Lindir’s modest abode, the butcher and his family, a carpenter and his wife, and one other house with a very noticeable and easily identifiable crest painted on the back door, adorned with emerald and topaz inlay. He attempted to ignore the door at the end of the hallway, for there was a memory that he attempted to block daily, and looking at the door only brought it to the forefront of his mind.

Through the windows that showed the north lawns, he had the same view as he had through his own windows. Frowning deeply, he was about to enter back into his house when he heard a door open. It was Lindir’s house, and he was letting out the very milkmaid that Erestor had been looking for. “Miss! Excuse me, I need a pint here, if you do not mind waiting while I fetch the money for it.”

The milkmaid, who had been giggling at some joke Lindir had told her, now furrowed her brow and looked sad. “I am so sorry, sir, but the cows were too cold this morning to give much milk. I have just sold the last bottle. I might have more later,” she added, hoping this might appease.

Lindir interrupted before Erestor could answer. “He can come across the hall and have breakfast with me.” He made a motion with his hand.

“I would not wish to impose,” said Erestor.

“Nonsense.” Lindir made one motion to shoo off the maid, and another to beckon Erestor. “Come, now, and stop protesting.” There were few who would invite Erestor in, and fewer still to make continued request of it, for Erestor was known for his intellect, wit, and inability to consider himself wrong. Lindir, however, had perfected the use of the phrase ‘We shall agree to disagree’ when around Erestor.

Erestor looked at the bottle in Lindir’s hand. He was not particularly fond of being social before noon, but at the same time he knew his mood would be soured for the entire day if he did not have breakfast. “Thank you for the invitation. I will join you shortly.”

Twenty minutes later, Erestor was sitting down at Lindir’s table. “Have you been out?” asked Erestor.

“Outside?” asked Lindir to clarify. When Erestor nodded, Lindir laughed. “Outside in the snow – no. I will be wandering my way to the Hall of Fire later, but not via a stroll through the garden. It seems cold, though, if the temperature of the milk is any indication.”

Erestor reached over his plate and set two fingers to the glass bottle. His fingertips became chilled almost immediately, and he drew his hand away. “Do you think it is cold enough for water to freeze?”

“Probably.” Lindir used his knife to stab a piece of sausage.

“Large bodies of water?”

Lindir shrugged. “There are icicles hanging from the roof. If water can freeze as it drips down from the sky, why not when it is still in a basin?”

“Surely this is mere happenstance. No one will actually believe that it means anything if it is frozen over at the river,” reasoned Erestor to himself.

“Sometimes you have to suck it up, admit you are wrong, bend over, and take it like a man.” Lindir grinned at the glare that Erestor gave to him. “Do you still believe that you are right?”

“I believe that I had a valid reason to believe—“

“Do you still believe you are right?”

“—that with all of the evidence available—“

“You just do not stop, do you?”

“—I was correct in the assumptions that I made.”

Lindir shook his head. “Is that a no?”

“Not exactly.”

"Then—“

“At the time, I had a very good reason to believe that I was correct,” said Erestor.

"Do I look like I care about what was said over a hundred years ago? I want to know about now. Do you still think you are right? Do you think the marriage between Elrond and Celebrian is purely political?”

Erestor picked up his glass of milk and drank slowly.

“Twin sons born just yesterday... beautiful little family, wonderful demeanor that they have with each other...”

“Fine – maybe he was... more right than I was.”

“Oh, my goodness, I can see why he left you,” admonished Lindir.

Erestor slammed down the glass onto the table, but not until after he had finished it. “On the contrary, Lindir, I left him. And, as I have said before—“

“We know, we know. You will admit that you were wrong when the Bruinen freezes over. I guess that means you have a little traveling to do this afternoon.”

“Indeed, I do, and despite the snow and cold, I am certain that the wall shall still be flowing when I get there. Thank you for breakfast,” said Erestor as he stood up, though his tone was icy. Lindir gave a nod, and waited until Erestor left and was back in his house before he took a stroll down to the ornately painted door at the end of the corridor.

The drifts were so deep outside of the Last Homely House that Erestor did not take his horse for fear he might cause injury to her. Instead, he hitched two pair of sled dogs normally used when traveling outside of the valley in winter and set off to determine whether nature believed he be right or wrong. On what should have been one of the happiest days, pride and anger overruled, and as one couple celebrated the joyous occasion, another held a heated argument that led to disaster.

It was a flippant comment, one made without much thought as to the content. They were walking from the ceremonial grounds to the hall where dinner would be served when Erestor said to Glorfindel...

“For a political marriage, they certainly do put on a good front.”

Glorfindel turned his head and looked at Erestor incredulously. “It might be politically advantageous for them both, but there is no lack of love between them.”

“I am sure they will learn to love one another,” added Erestor as they continued to walk along the corridor, “but the purpose of this marriage is both socially and governmentally important.”

“That might be so,” countered Glorfindel, “but two people do not marry simply because it looks good on paper.”

“In most cases, of course not. But when the parties are known royalty, or hold an office of import, then these matters must be considered and in most cases acted upon.”

“Next you are going to tell me that our relationship is built around political advantage.”

Erestor now looked to his companion and said, “Obviously, at its core.”

The admission stunned Glorfindel, and he grasped Erestor’s elbow and pulled him aside to allow others to pass. Some slowed as they watched the exchange, which was now reduced to angry whispers. “Explain yourself,” demanded Glorfindel as he dropped his hand away.

“I sought you out when you arrived because there are few who hold the stations we do, and fewer still with the.. romantic interests we mutually possess.” Erestor was both confused and irritated that they were being delayed, but he continued. “We have managed to build a relationship of love and devotion, but at the center—“

“I do not believe what I am hearing,” murmured Glorfindel as Erestor continued his explanation. He suddenly placed his hands upon Erestor’s shoulders and interrupted him with, “Erestor, I fell in love with you upon first sight.”

“Well... that is nice, I guess,” he replied uncertainly.

“And while I can believe that you did not immediately do so, I know that you managed to come to your senses and love me now.” He said this almost teasingly, but Erestor still narrowed his eyes a bit.

When the pause was significant enough for Erestor to realize he was to respond, he said, “Of course I do.”

“Most sensible people can recognize their soul mate when they meet them,” continued Glorfindel, who now moved his hands from Erestor’s shoulders. “While it was, on other levels, an advantage for Elrond and Celebrian to wed, they started their relationship on the basis of romance and love, not trade agreements and export prices.”

Erestor waited to see if there was more, but when Glorfindel looked to the wall as if waiting, Erestor said, “I disagree.” Glorfindel’s frown deepened as he listened. “They both knew who the other one was at the onset – before they met, in fact. It was all arranged by Celeborn for them to meet. I am happy for them, yes, that they were able to find common interests over which to bond, but by no means does that mean that this marriage is not political.”

“Oh, for Manwe’s sake!” Glorfindel began on his path to the hall again, with renewed vigor. Erestor was left behind for only a moment, for the advisor made haste in order to catch up with his lover. “If you do not believe me, perhaps hearing it from them will change your mind.”

“I doubt they shall be honest about it,” argued Erestor. Their voices were loud enough now for other guests to hear them, and some even stepped aside as the couple marched down the hallway and into the room, stopping only when they were made to wait their way through the receiving line. Arms were crossed over their chests, neither one looking at the other and only exchanging the briefest of pleasantries, which were utterly forced, when others came up to greet them.

When they reached the newlyweds, no congratulations were offered. Instead, Glorfindel said impatiently, “My lord, my lady, will you please set this nonbeliever straight and declare to him that your love is both true and strong?”

The outburst of sorts confused Elrond, but he took hold of Celebrian’s hand nonetheless, too happy to care about oddities this day. “From the very beginning, she and I both knew in our hearts that this day was before us. Now that it is here, I find myself blessed tenfold what I expected.” He lovingly turned and kissed Celebrian lightly on the lips.

Glorfindel looked to Erestor with a smirk. “Satisfied?”

“Hardly,” said Erestor, his eyes dark, his face reddening in embarrassment. While Glorfindel seemed to be able to get away with the unconventional, Erestor was a thorough believer in etiquette. He bowed to the couple and said to them, “May your marriage be blessed this day, and may your love grow to overcome the political nature of this union.”

Celebrian looked confused, while Elrond was slightly shocked. “This is not about politics, my friend,” said Elrond carefully. “We are truly and deeply in love.”

“Now will you admit that you were wrong?” pressed Glorfindel.

Erestor snorted in contempt, and rolled his eyes. “There is more going on here than you know.”

Glorfindel threw his arms up towards the sky and demanded, “Why do you always have to ruin things with your stubbornness? Why can you not just admit you are wrong?”

“I will admit that when the Bruinen freezes over!” he growled as he left the room.

When Glorfindel arrived at the river, he was easily able to find Erestor. Lindir had alerted him of the situation early in the day, and after completing a few tasks, Glorfindel retrieved his horse from the stables. Most horses would not make it through the drifts, but those that Glorfindel owned were tall and hearty, and he had little trouble making it through as they slowly followed the path that Erestor left in his wake.

The dogs were waiting on the shore, still tied to the sled. Glorfindel dismounted and gave the lead dog a pat on the head as he passed. He took a few steps out onto the ice and for a little while just stared at the figure who was standing on the middle of the frozen water.

One of the dogs barked, which caused Erestor to look over his shoulder. His gaze met Glorfindel’s, and no words needed to be said. As Erestor looked away, Glorfindel called out to him, “Come on. We should get back to the house. It will be dark soon, and Elrond will send someone to look for us if I do not check in with Lindir.”

There was no verbal response, but Erestor did make his way back over the ice until he was standing between the dogs and Glorfindel’s horse. “Your transportation looks a little tired,” noted Glorfindel of the sled dogs. “You should let them pull the sled back empty, and ride with me.”

It seemed that Erestor was about to protest for the sake of protest, but there would be no logic in his argument. The dogs were still panting from the exertion, and the return trip would put extra unnecessary strain upon them. He still said naught, but walked to the war horse and mounted. Glorfindel stepped over to the dogs and gave the lead a command to return to the house, sending the pack trotting off the way they had come.

“We might be delayed in returning. With two of us riding and the snow so deep, I would not want something to happen.” Glorfindel did not receive or expect a reply, and he mounted the horse now, taking up residence behind Erestor. The simple motion of taking hold of the reins cued the horse to turn about and head back to the settlement.

A little while later, as the sky darkened from hazy grey to a brilliant deep, bright blue, Glorfindel began to gaze up at the stars that shimmered above. “I remember when last we rode like this. It was only a few days before the wedding,” he said, referencing the ceremony for Elrond and Celebrian. “We were meeting several others for a picnic and you had just had your horse readied for the entourage that would march in – bathed, brushed, and mane braided exquisitely. We wanted to attend the gathering, but you were insistent that your work would be ruined. I remember that when we arrived, someone made the comment that we were so close to one another, that it was surprising the wedding was not ours.”

Still, nothing. In desperation, Glorfindel tried a question instead. “Did that argument make you hate me so much that you still refuse, after all this time, to speak to me? I tire of using Lindir as the messenger, Erestor. Or is it that you no longer love me at all as you once did?”

Such an accusation brought the years of silence to an end. “You know I still love you.”

Glorfindel transferred the reins to one hand, and used his other arm to encircle Erestor’s waist and pull him closer. “That was all I needed to hear. I have missed you too much for too long. Forget the disagreement – you are probably right about the political motives.”

“You do not believe that.”

“I will if it brings us back together. Some things are too silly to remain angry over.”

Silence lingered once more, until the big house and its many additions were in sight. “Will you have dinner with me tonight? Just you and I, at my house?” He added a ‘please’ after the pause exceeded his liking.

The close proximity of his dear companion, whom he had cast aside, whom he had obviously hurt to a point that Glorfindel was willing to deny his own convictions, was having a greater effect on Erestor than he had anticipated. “I will join you,” said Erestor finally. He knew that Glorfindel was grinning, despite being unable to see him.

“I need to return my horse, but we will ride to the house so that you are able to avoid the snow. Do not worry about the dogs,” he added, seeing the pack had returned and were waiting by the barn. “I will take care of them as well. Meet me in an hour.”

An hour can be measured as an eternity, and such was the case for Erestor. He dismounted at the main doors, and then watched Glorfindel ride back to the stable. Following that, he did not quite know where to go. It would take less than ten minutes for him to reach his own house, and less than a minute after that to be at Glorfindel’s door.

He walked slowly and avoided most of the inhabitants, for it was suppertime for most everyone. Erestor paused now and then as a particular spot or item would recall for him a memory connected to Glorfindel. A chair that Glorfindel often sat in outside of the council chambers, before and after meetings. The cart of towels that was lingering in the hallway as a maid was making a delivery – Glorfindel insisted upon red ones, and only red ones, to hide blood when he bathed following an attack or battle. Their first meeting, on the twisting stairs that led to the upper levels.

Erestor was scolding one of his pages for stealing something from his squire as he walked the boy down to be dealt with formally by Elrond. Glorfindel, just arrived, sent to the refuge by Ereinion, did not hear much of the conversation, but could see that Erestor was quite angry and the boy was frightened beyond belief. He stood upon the stairs, blocking their way, and said, “Do not admonish your son so; the young are fickle and flighty and need guidance more than scolding.”

The interruption angered Erestor, who stood up straight and announced pointedly to the stranger, “This is not my son. I have no children, nor have I intention of any.” Erestor instructed the boy to continue down to Elrond’s office, which the page did in haste.

“Does your wife share that opinion?” asked Glorfindel curiously.

“Despite it being none of your concern, I have no wife, nor have I intention of any.” Erestor observed the newcomer now, finding himself especially drawn to the firm muscles of his arms and the golden hair. Surely, he would now hear of this gentleman’s family and how well his children were raised or some such thing.

Instead, Glorfindel smiled as his own gaze wandered up and down, taking in the lean yet muscled body of the archer turned advisor, and the stern yet fair face that was staring, almost glaring at him. Glorfindel shook his head, and as he passed by on his way up the stairs, he leaned in to whisper to Erestor, “Neither do I, and nor do I have any such intention.” It was quite clear to both of them what that meant. They each turned their head, facing one another, standing too close for acquaintances. “Where do you spend your evenings?” asked Glorfindel.

Erestor vaguely remembered responding – something about the gardens and the Hall of Fire, or perhaps it included chess in the library. It mattered very little – he spent that evening, and many after, in Glorfindel’s bed. Just the thought sent a rush through him, and he began to mentally scold himself for his own recent misfortune. Stubborn seemed too light a word for it, but it was all that echoed through his mind as he set forth on a new destination.

He reached the door of the primary suite within the Last Homely House, and knocked purposefully upon it. His wait was brief before the butler answered and beckoned him in. It had been a long time since Erestor had entered these rooms, and he felt uncertain about coming here. He had no time to reconsider as Elrond emerged into the foyer and greeted him. “Is something the matter?” he asked after pleasantries were exchanged.

“Not exactly. I was hoping to speak to your wife,” explained Erestor.

Elrond looked unsure, but he nodded. “Allow me to ask if she wishes a visitor. She is well, but exhausted.” Elrond left for a moment, then returned and motioned with his hand for Erestor to follow him. They came into the sitting room, where Celebrian sat in a rocking chair with one bundled baby, as the nursemaid rocked the other gently in a cradle. “As it turns out, it is bedtime for the twins. Oh, you have yet to see them,” Elrond suddenly remembered. He gently took the babe that his wife had been cuddling, and brought the child to Erestor. “This is Elrohir, born second. The firstborn and heir is with Mirinhel.” The nursemaid took this as a signal to bring the other child over. “Ah, and this is Elladan.” Elrond doted upon them both, and insisted that Erestor hold each in turn. As he stood with Elrohir in his arms, Erestor felt the basis of his long-lasting argument fade away.

Celebrian laughed from where she sat and said in explanation, “You look terribly awkward, Lord Erestor.”

“I am obviously not meant to be a father,” he replied as the nursemaid assisted in an adjustment of his arms while still cradling Elladan in one of hers. “Oh, I give up,” he finally said as he deposited the child with Elrond. “A bow or a scroll I can handle, but babies are beyond me.”

Elrond chuckled and shook his head. “We all have our talents, I suppose. If you will excuse me, it is time for a long nap.” He and Mirinhel took the twins out of the room, leaving Erestor alone with Celebrian.

“My husband said you wished to speak with me,” said Celebrian. She was still on the rocking chair, eyes half-closed.

Erestor approached and pulled a small footstool over to sit upon. “I did. I have an apology to make, one that is long overdue. Inadvertently, I feel that I ruined your wedding reception. That was not my intention; nonetheless, I did undoable emotional damage. I should not have said what I did.”

“Do you believe what you said?”

“At the time,” said Erestor. He bowed his head as he decided how much to reveal. “I was the product of a political marriage. The sole purpose my parents had in having me was to further my father’s political reaches. In Doriath, I was forced to spend all free time courting the princess. When I failed in that, and revealed my... personal preference for princes over princesses, it became a failure for the family. Forgive my words, but the day that Turin killed him was probably one of the happiest in my life.”

The lady leaned back in the chair and began to rock in it. “I understand your personal circumstances, and how that has affected you,” she said. “Know this, Erestor – I refused to allow myself to be bound into a political marriage. I have been courted by kings – Amroth, Ereinion, and even Thranduil. I had no interest in any of them, and I followed the advice of my parents – marry for love. That is what I did.”

“I see that now,” admitted Erestor with his head bowed. “I hope you might someday forgive me for my inability to see that and the words and actions that followed.”

“You are forgiven, Erestor. From my understanding, you have served your own penance since that day. Tell me – are you able to forgive yourself?”

“I hope to have that answer within the hour,” Erestor replied.

“Good evening.”

“Yes, it is.” Glorfindel smiled and opened the door wide enough for Erestor to enter, not wide enough for him to get through without brushing against Glorfindel. “Do come in.”

The door was closed, and locked, and Glorfindel motioned to the dining room where they had once eaten most meals together. There was stew in large bowls and a loaf of bread and fresh butter, all brought from the main kitchen if the trolley that was rolled to the side of the room was any indication. A bottle of wine was open, waiting to be poured into the goblets on the table.

They sat down, opposite to one another, and Glorfindel poured the wine. All the while, Erestor stared at the linen napkin he had placed in his lap, speaking only to say grace with Glorfindel before they began their meal. For Erestor, that meant pushing the stew around the bowl while Glorfindel ate a few thoughtful mouthfuls. Finally, Glorfindel asked, “Is something the matter with the meal?”

“No, not with that.” Erestor set his spoon down to rest, and reached across the table to take Glorfindel’s unoccupied hand. He gave it a squeeze, as if gathering the strength and will that he needed to continue. Erestor looked up, his gaze meeting Glorfindel’s. “I was wrong, and I am sorry. Forgive me for doubting you.”

“I will forgive you on one condition.”

Erestor swallowed hard. “Name it.”

“No more storming out without as much as a goodbye. No more silence – over a hundred years, and not so much as a ‘good day’ to me. If we disagree, then we deal with it, even if that means yelling our heads off, so long as we end up in bed together at the end of the day. Agreed?” Glorfindel squeezed Erestor’s hand back, and received a nod. “Good.” He looked down at the bowl of stew. “Are you hungry?”

“Not particularly.” Erestor was already drawing his hand away so that he could stand up. “Is your bedroom still the second door on the right?”

Glorfindel nodded, standing as well. He picked up the goblets of wine and brought them with him as he followed Erestor, who had already opened the door of the bedroom. “Sorry about the bed. I would have made it this morning, but I was worried when Lindir told me—“

Erestor’s lips muffled whatever else Glorfindel might have said, and the wine was set aside on the dresser. “I think there have been enough apologies for tonight.” Erestor’s next kiss ended with him pulling on Glorfindel’s bottom lip with his teeth, and Glorfindel groaned, still loving that particular move. “I imagine you still keep a bottle of something slippery?”

“Next to the bed, right where you left it.”

“Well I do hope there is some left after all these years,” said Erestor as he went to inspect the small glass container, expecting it to have evaporated despite the firmly inserted cork. The oil slid to either side as Erestor tilted the bottle back and forth to check.

Glorfindel smiled as he came up behind Erestor and embraced him, arms around his waist. “I refilled it when I returned. Just in case.”

“Just in case I came to my senses?”

“Your words, not mine,” said Glorfindel as he kissed behind Erestor’s ear, their matched heights keeping him from needing to stretch or bend his neck down. “Now... as for what to do with that oil...” Glorfindel’s hands set to work unbuckling Erestor’s belt and loosening the rest of his clothing so that when Erestor turned around to divest Glorfindel of his garments, the advisor’s trousers were already beginning to slide down his thighs. They were tumbled into the unkempt bed momentarily, a tangle of limbs that became evermore frantic as years of oppressed lust charged to the forefront.

They were each a match of the other, and no one could do more than guess what their arrangement was behind the closed door of the bedchamber, with the exception of Lindir, who kept the secret in confidence. There had been, despite their lack of knowledge with one another, little debate that first night together. As Erestor now positioned himself on the bed, knees and hands used to keep his balance as Glorfindel pulled the cork from the oil, he remembered briefly that first encounter.

They were in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, kisses free flowing over the past hour. They both knew where it was going to lead, but not what path it would take. It was Glorfindel who asked the question Erestor had hoped not to need to answer. “So... have you done this before?”

It would have been easy to lie, but Erestor felt a certain need for honesty with this sudden and unexpected lover. “Not really. Not with someone else.” He shook his head suddenly as if to clear it. “Not that I am devoid of any experience, just—“

“No, do not worry, I just wondered how you wanted to, that was all. If you have a preference.”

Erestor licked his lips, attempting to keep his nerves in check. “Do you? Have a preference, that is.”

“I do.” Glorfindel slid his hand back and forth along Erestor’s thigh. “I tried a number of things in my former life, but I favored the top position. Of course, if you do not—“

“I would. Try that, that is.” What Erestor wanted to say was that he wished it to be no other way. Since the awakenings of his majority, when he realized that fair maidens did little to arouse him and that those his own gender and age stirred yearnings in him in ways he did not expect, his desire was to be the one receiving the other, to be the one in the more vulnerable position.

Even recalling that first time that they made love was causing Erestor now to moan and roll his hips in anticipation. Glorfindel used the oil sparsely at first, then more liberally as he moved from initial preparation to more stimulating activities. Decades of celibacy made Erestor feel virginal once more. His muscles were tight, relaxed but not completely loosened by Glorfindel’s preparations. There was now only enough oil left for Glorfindel to use on his erection, which he did now.

Neither was much for conversation at this point, leaving the animalistic grunts and groans to be the only sounds beyond the shifting of the blankets and the creak of the wooden bed frame. Glorfindel began slowly, fear in his mind that anything too strenuous might cause harm after so long an absence. This was short-lived, for Erestor began to push back into the shallow thrusts that Glorfindel had first offered, and soon the Erestor found himself at Glorfindel’s mercy, fingers gripping the edge of the mattress, elbows down for extra support, back arched sharply for added pleasure.

Glorfindel kept one hand wrapped around Erestor’s thigh in order to delve into him deeply each time he drove himself forward, and used the other now to seek out the hard length that was already dripping from the tip. This fluid he rubbed onto his palm before mirroring his strokes with each thrust of his hips. They moved in tandem, forward and back, until Glorfindel’s imminent release made him tighten his hold and move his hand faster and more franticly, losing the rhythm, but gaining momentum as they crashed into their orgasms together.

They carefully moved apart before dropping down onto the bed beside each other. When their panting lessened, Glorfindel turned his head and said, “I really do think I fell for you at first sight. Maybe you did not, but—“

“I said some stupid things,” admitted Erestor. “I was trying to make my point, and I may have exaggerated a—“

“Wait... you only said that to get me to agree with you about that political marriage silliness?” asked Glorfindel.

Erestor shrugged.

“So then, you felt the same way I did when we met.”

“I... I felt something. More like a feeling of just always knowing you all my life, despite it being the first time we met. But I... well, maybe it was love. I do not know. I know I love you now and I hate myself for staying angry for no reason for so long,” said Erestor.

“It was not exclusively your fault. I could have easily demanded we sit down and discuss it, but I just let it go. For a day, for a week, a year... and look at us. I meant it, what I said before,” added Glorfindel. “No more going to bed angry with each other.”

“Never again. I promise.”

Glorfindel stretched his arms over his head. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Not really,” said Erestor. He paused. “Something to drink might be nice.”

“Wine?”

Erestor wrinkled his nose. “I suppose, if that is all you have.”

“Give me a moment, and I can bring some ale. I left it to chill in the snow on the porch. Just in case,” added Glorfindel.

“You must have been pretty confident of the eventual conclusion of the evening with everything you did just in case,” commented Erestor as Glorfindel left the bed in search of pants or a robe in order to fetch the ale.

“It is like you said – we feel like we have known each other all our lives. Both, in my case.” Glorfindel grinned. “Stay here; I will be right back.”

“Where am I going to go?” wondered Erestor as he sat up in bed.

Glorfindel shrugged. “Now that I have you back here, I do not want to take any chances!” Several minutes later, he returned with two cold mugs of ale. “Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass into Erestor’s once he was back in bed again.

“What are we toasting?” asked Erestor as he watched Glorfindel drink half the mug in two gulps.

Glorfindel paused to consider. “To the Bruinen finally freezing over,” he replied as he clinked his glass to Erestor’s again.

Lindir stepped out into the hallway as soon as he hear the knock on his door. The milkmaid smiled sweetly and reached into her basket. “The last one again, I am afraid. My poor cows are refusing to give much milk again today.”

“Thank you so much for stopping by.” Lindir was counting the coins he had pulled from a pouch when he heard the door at the end of the hall open. He looked up and greeted the approaching Elf. “Good morning, Glorfindel. I trust you slept well last night?”

“Indeed.” Glorfindel turned his attention to the maid and said, “I am glad to have found you before you ran out of your wares.”

“Alas, that has happened already. Master Lindir was about to purchase the last pint.”

“Really?” Glorfindel reached into his own pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, not bothering to count them. “I shall pay twice his price for the same goods.”

Before Lindir had a chance to object, the milkmaid exchanged the bottle for what Glorfindel had in his hand, which was really close to thrice the going rate. She gave a curtsey to Glorfindel, an apologetic look to Lindir, and went back down the hallway to her own house. Lindir frowned as he dropped his coins back into the pouch. “I suppose you have company you are entertaining who need that more.”

“He is a terrible bear if he does not get his way,” remarked Glorfindel immediately.

“Hmm, yes, I noticed.” Lindir began to smile. “I suppose that means that the river was frozen.”

“Of course it was,” replied Glorfindel as he slid something from his finger. “By the way, might you return this to Elrond for me? He likely needs it urgently, and I would hate for Erestor to find out... well, I must return before he notices I am gone,” said Glorfindel as he placed the item into Lindir’s palm. “Make sure that gets back to Elrond as soon as possible, and do not lose it!” He hurried back to his house, closing and locking the door behind him as Lindir stared at the sapphire ring in his palm, shaking his head at it.