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Months passed, a new chair appeared in the Hall of Fire, and Erestor took care to be sure it was never positioned too close to any flames. Gilraen and Elrond could be found with each other daily, and Erestor took it upon himself to keep rumors from spreading, since he could find no scandals of his own as a distraction. Snow turned to rain, and the spring showers washed away the last remnants of a calm winter. It would be any day now...

“I just saw the rest of the Winterguard ride into the stables,” Melpomaen announced gleefully as he entered the private staff study where afternoon tea was being served. “You all know what that means!”

“Ah, festival tonight!” announced Lindir. “I have three new tunes I have written, and one of them is especially for Glorfindel.”

“Glorfindel!” Erestor practically choked on his scone. “Excuse me,” he said, tossing the remainder of his treat onto a plate and brushing the crumbs from his fingers. “I must be off the rest of the afternoon – Melpomaen, would you kindly take charge of the library for me?”

“Of course, Master Erestor.” Melpomaen, Lindir, and the rest of the staff present watched Erestor rush out of the room and scurry down the hall. “What was that all about?”

“The chair.”

“The chair? What chair?”

“Oh! You were not there that night – Erestor set Glorfindel’s chair afire.”

Melpomaen’s eyes widened. “Why did he do that?”

“Well, it was on fire already – it is a long story. Let me start at the beginning...”

* * *

Erestor stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the house, picking lint from his robes and smoothing out the fabric. He took a deep breath when a solo rider galloped down the final hill to the valley where the house was. The warrior’s white fur lined cloak billowed out behind him like a last wandering snowdrift, and Asfaloth snorted and stamped once they reached the doors of the stable. Glorfindel dismounted and a gentle pat and a few words sent his stallion into the stable towards his stall and a well-deserved rest. The golden warrior walked across the courtyard, across leaves from the past autumn beneath his feet as he traveled. His eyes were on Erestor the entire time, and while a pleasant smile graced his lips, he was cautious nonetheless.

Standing straight, Erestor grinned a little too excitedly, hands clasped in front of him. “Welcome home!”

Glorfindel stopped in front of Erestor, glanced down at his hands, and then looked back up into his eyes. While normally shorter, Glorfindel wore sturdy winter boots, and Erestor had his house slippers on, so they were nearly matched in height. “What did you do?”

“What? Nothing,” said Erestor a little too quickly. “I am simply happy to see you again.”

“Really. Well.” Glorfindel encircled the advisor, keeping watch on him the entire time. When he reached his original spot again, he stopped and rose up on the front of his feet so that he could stare right into Erestor’s eyes. “You are out of practice as an actor, my friend. What is going on?”

“I...” Erestor sighed, shoulders slumping. “I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Hear what?” Glorfindel cocked his head to the side. “You eloped with the Dúnedain woman.”

“No.”

“...Elrond eloped with her?”

“Not yet.”

“Not... not yet? I was only joking,” admitted Glorfindel as he rested back down on his feet again. “Seriously?”

“No, wait, I said that badly.” Erestor cleared his throat. “Elrond and Gilraen are on... very amiable terms.”

“Such as?”

“Elrond was going to send her away because he feared he would be inappropriate in his actions. He changed his mind, talked of adopting her son, and has even given the child a new name,” said Erestor. “He calls him Estel, for the hope that he brings. I think it has much to do with how Elrond was brought up.”

Glorfindel blinked and shook his head. “I am... shocked. Speechless? I would not believe it had you not told me yourself.” He scrutinized Erestor suddenly. “That was not what you met me here to inform me, though.”

“Well, I did plan to let you know about that at some point,” said Erestor. He was wringing his hands now and fidgeting terribly. “I may as well say it. Glorfindel, your chair in the Hall of Fire was destroyed.”

“Destroyed? How?”

“Somehow, it started on fire. Then, Elladan made it worse by spilling alcohol on it, thinking it was being doused with water. That caused it to burst into flames, and instead of risking the entire house, I threw it into the pit.”

Glorfindel said nothing.

“Elladan told me how important it was to you, being a gift from Gildor, and while it was not really my fault that it started on fire in the first place, I feel partly responsible for what happened to it in the end. I hope I might make it up to you. The twins have already purchased a new chair and it awaits you in the hall, but I fear that will not be enough,” admitted Erestor.

“Certainly, this is grave news,” agreed Glorfindel. “That chair was my favorite, and what is more, as you said, ‘twas a gift from Gildor. He carved it with his own hands. It is hardly replaceable.”

Erestor cringed. “I was afraid of that.” He spread his hands before him. “I suppose I am at your mercy for your forgiveness.”

“Are you? That is a dangerous proposition, dear councilor,” warned Glorfindel.

“I know,” said Erestor warily. “Indeed, I know, but I cannot in good conscious not attempt to make it up in some way. I have felt terrible ever since, and even in my dreams am I plagued.”

“If that is the case, I am sure we can come to a mutual agreement.” Glorfindel removed his heavy leather riding gloves and placed them in his vest pocket. “In the meantime, I am in need of rest and a good meal. Dine with me tonight?”

“Is this a part of my penance?” wondered Erestor.

“Hardly. I sincerely missed your company, as I always do.” Glorfindel stole a kiss across Erestor’s cheek and patted the same flesh with his hand. “I shall arrive in your rooms at dusk, and I expect a full update on the happenings since my departure. And cheesecake.”

* * *

Glorfindel took his time bathing and afterwards lounged on his bed wrapped in a towel as he waited for his hair to dry. He had spent the time reading letters that had arrived during his time in the forest and the meeting minutes and council agendas from the past half year. There was also a wrapped package from Lothlorien, addressed to him by Arwen. He untied the coarse twine and found a silken shirt of pale grey embroidered with blue and silver threads. Wrapped within it was another package, and Glorfindel found a small box of honey brittle and another of spun sugar twists in bright pink, yellow, and green hues. A final sack of treats contained taffies in similar colors to the spun sugar. Glorfindel set all of his new treats on a table at the bedside, and rose up slowly to try the shirt on.

It fit perfectly, from the length of the sleeve to the size at the wrist. There was a note in the pocket, and Glorfindel pulled it out to read it.

Happy Spring to you, dear Glorfindel! I hope this message finds you well. Grandmother and I have passed the long autumn and winter days in happy companionship in her sewing room with her ladies. I am running out of things to make for my father and brothers, so I hope that you (and Erestor) do not mind being the latest recipients of my work. Do write and tell me how the fit is and what colors you prefer for my next project. I would like to make you some formal robes, but did not know if you would think white would be too pretentious. Until we speak again, Arwen.


Glorfindel went to the dresser to find a loincloth before he sat down, wearing only the undergarment and the unbuttoned shirt, to write a thank you to his honorary niece. It was with disappointment that he discovered his inkwell dry and his paper supply depleted, left unattended since his last time at the desk. He was not left to dwell upon this overlong, for a knock on his door brought him to call out, “The door is open.”

The door was indeed unlocked, and then it was opened, and Lindir stepped into the room. He gave his friend an odd look. “Did you intend to attend dinner with Erestor in that? Because I would pay to see that. I would pay a lot of money to see that.”

“Firstly, no. Secondly, how do you know of that? And finally, why are you here?”

“Good evening, Lindir! Good to see you! How are you? Yes, I am fine,” answered Lindir in a half-mocking tone.

“Good evening, then. I am sorry you feel slighted, but I did see you twice during my patrol when you came around to give us reports on the valley. Erestor and I have not seen each other in six months,” Glorfindel pointed out.

Lindir conceded and held out a folio. “Your lessons for the next six months.”

“Oh, right. Thank you.” Glorfindel took the pages and set them off to the side of the desk. “So glad you remembered.”

“This year, we are going to meet on a regular basis.”

Glorfindel made a noncommittal nod.

“Weekly.”

“Oh, that seems like a lot,” said Glorfindel, though it came out almost as a whine.

“Glorfindel, I want you to learn to play your instrument! You have a great amount of potential, and lute is a fantastic choice for you. I want to be able to perform duets with you eventually and sooner rather than later would be nice.” The minstrel pouted slightly at his best friend. “Could we at least try to meet once a month?”

“I suppose.” Glorfindel fastened the shirt and went back to his dresser to find a pair of pants. “Right now, I need to get ready for supper.”

“About that...”

Glorfindel glowered at Lindir. “What do you mean, about that? Wait, you knew about my dinner plans... is he cancelling?”

“Not exactly. Cancelling under duress would be more accurate.” Lindir sat down upon the cedar chest at the foot of Glorfindel’s bed. “Elrond wishes to meet with us over dinner.”

Glorfindel sighed and removed the shirt, opting for an older one he had instead. “Who is us?”

“It would include the three of us, and Erestor, as well as Elladan and Elrohir. Elrond did say he wished Arwen were here, but that he can speak to her if he needs to later.”

“I wish he would give me a moment to rest!” Glorfindel folded the newly received garment and placed it carefully into a drawer. “Are we meeting in his rooms?”

“He suggested that. Erestor suggested something I am not going to repeat.”

This at least made Glorfindel smile. “Someday, I am going to marry that man.”

“If anyone can turn him, it will be you.” Lindir headed for the door, but Glorfindel stopped him short.

“How so?” His dour mood was seemingly changed, his eyes sparkling with interest and secreted bliss.

Lindir grinned and patted Glorfindel’s cheek. “You are, in a word, roguish.”

“That terms is typically applied to Erestor, not I. I am the innocent,” Glorfindel playfully argued.

“You only think yourself an innocent,” disputed Lindir. “In truth, you are sly and crafty, and you have a certain something about you that is similar to Erestor. On the surface? Innocent, yes. But you have secrets you are hiding as well.” Glorfindel looked away from Lindir as this was said, and the minstrel grinned. “Is it not said that we are all but the half of a whole? The two of you are certainly a match in my mind.”

“I fear I shall smile like a loon through supper knowing your opinion on that.” The pair left Glorfindel’s quarters once he retrieved a pair of soft boots from his closet.

* * *

Glorfindel and Lindir barely arrived before the first course, and dinner was eaten quietly with little conversation, for with the maids present, Elrond gave no indication as to his reason for gathering his chief staff members and sons together for a meal. Elladan was bored, Elrohir was indifferent, Lindir was cheerful and supplied most of the conversation, but both Glorfindel and Erestor were somewhat annoyed and exchanged more than one set of exasperated glances to one another. A matched set, indeed.

When the butler finally left the group with two bottles of good wine from the cellar and locked the door behind him, Erestor blurted out, “So what purpose have you for bringing us together tonight? Certainly, you were not simply in need of companions to dine with.”

Lindir frowned slightly, never particularly fond of Erestor’s agitated outbursts. Elrond folded his napkin and seemed to ignore the tone in which he had been addressed. He picked up one of the bottles and a pair of glasses from the table. “Let us retire to the study,” he said in answer, and moved away from the table and down the hall to a room which had at one time been the bedroom shared by Elladan and Elrohir before they had moved to quarters of their own.

Lindir shrugged when everyone looked to him for an answer. While Erestor was the chief councilor, there were times that it was Lindir who was the ear of the Lord of Imladris. The entire group moved away from the table and joined Elrond, some of them bringing additional goblets or the extra bottle of wine. Once assembled again, Elrond bid them all to sit down. Everyone did so, with Lindir sitting last only after lighting a fire to warm the room, still chilly from the spring winds.

When nothing was again said for some time, Erestor added, “Perhaps you would prefer for us to guess your purpose?”

“Nay, Erestor.” Elrond gave Erestor a look of frustration, then took up his glass of wine. “I am only unsure of how to word what it is I wish to say.”

“Sometimes the plainest version is the best,” suggested Lindir as he lazily swirled his wine about the glass.

Elrond nodded in agreement. “I despise being at a loss for words.” He chuckled softly. “I am the lord of the valley, but a fool when it comes to these things.” Upon clearing his throat, he said, “I intend to formally foster Estel as my son.”

“That is not entirely unexpected,” said Elrohir. “We are, of course, some of the few kin he has left.”

“That is not all, Elrohir. I intend to have Estel and Gilraen move into my quarters by the end of the week.”

This revelation brought silence to the entire group. The crackling of the fire even seemed to die down as everyone looked around, meeting eyes with one another, yet avoiding any glances at Elrond. “Both the boy, and his mother?” questioned Erestor.

“Yes.”

“The study will be converted to a bedroom?” guessed Lindir.

“For Estel, yes.” Elrond nodded.

“What of Arwen’s room?” asked Elladan.

Elrond looked through the doorway to the closed door across the hall. “It will remain hers.”

“And... the lounge?” asked Elrohir, for it was the only remaining room which could serve as a bedroom, though it was quite small in size compared to the other rooms.

“It will remain the lounge.” Elrond’s voice was a little distant, almost as if he were talking not only to those in the room, but to someone far away as well.

There seemed to be a fair amount of staring at the floor and fiddling with goblets that followed. Elrond dared not look at anyone, perhaps fearing disapproval from everyone or anyone.

“What are you going to have him call you?” asked Glorfindel softly.

“Whatever he wishes.” Elrond now looked up, but at his sons instead of Glorfindel. “Adar, if he so chooses to.”

“So... we can call him our little brother?” asked Elrohir. He appeared cautiously excited. Elladan was solemn, but showed little emotion.

“If you would like to.”

Elladan set his glass on the tea table. “What do we call her?”

Elrond met the nearly accusing gaze of his eldest child. “I suspect you would call her Gilraen.”

There was an awkward silence, but Erestor used the pause to his advantage. “I think I speak for the majority of the group in saying that you are at liberty to proceed with your personal life in whatever ways you see fit.” He looked across the room at Glorfindel hoping to gain an ally.

“Absolutely. Aragorn will need a stable home, and a strong family if he is to thrive. That you are willing to adopt him is commendable,” said Glorfindel approvingly.

“On the other hand, it could turn to disaster,” warned Elladan. “Remember the fate of Turin.” For once, the role of father and son seemed reversed as Elrond nodded thoughtfully and Elladan stood to tower over his seated father with a scornful look. “I must leave,” he announced abruptly. “I have things to attend to.” He lifted his gaze now to Elrohir, who stood as well. “Good evening,” he said for the both of them before they left.

Lindir followed after with a mumbled apology, and Erestor sat a short time before excusing himself as well when the awkwardness of the silence got to him, with Glorfindel remaining last of all. “I should think you would wish to discuss this with Galadriel and Celeborn.”

“I have already corresponded with Celeborn,” confirmed Elrond. “He gave his blessing. As for Galadriel, he said he will inform her, and Arwen. I thought it best to be sure that I had an ally in my father-in-law before bringing it to the attention of anyone else.”

Glorfindel fiddled with his hair, pushing it behind his ears. “She would not want you to be so lonely.”

“Who? Arwen? Or Galadriel?”

“Your wife,” said Glorfindel, smiling softly. “She and I spoke in private much during that year; you know that. She was not just my cousin; she was like a little sister for me. I did what I could to provide comfort before she sailed. One of the things she was most worried about was you. Her fear in fading had less to do with facing the halls as it did with being unsure of how you would handle the situation. She never wanted to leave you here alone.”

Elrond’s jaw trembled slightly, his eyes glossing with tears. “I would have gone with her if she had asked. She told me to stay.”

“You had to stay. Just like I have to stay and Erestor has to stay and Celeborn and Cirdan and Galadriel have to stay.” Glorfindel set his hand upon Elrond’s arm. “No one will fault you for this. I know all too well the pain of losing someone beloved, even for a little while.”

“I appreciate that. It is different when one is married.” Elrond sighed, stood up, and walked to the window. “Being married is so different from simply having a lover. I cannot explain it, but perhaps you will understand my statement one day.”

Glorfindel sat dumbfounded as Elrond stared out the window. Words would not form in his head; only the shock was present.

“I did not mean to keep you so late, Glorfindel. I will be fine.”

The blond braced himself on the arms of the chair as he rose up onto his feet. In a daze, he walked across the room. Just as he reached the door, he turned around again and came back. Elrond seemed to sense this despite the silence, and looked over his shoulder. “I was married. In Gondolin. Before you were born. So I know exactly what you are going through. Only, my wife died. My wife, and my son. So maybe it is easier for me, not having to make a decision like you have to.” Glorfindel paused, his fists balled up at his sides. “I wish my choices were as difficult as yours.” Before Elrond could answer, Glorfindel quickly left the room.
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