Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana
Author's Email:
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairings; Ereinion/Lindir and Elrond/Celebrían.
Overall rating: NC-17
Summary: Lindir, Elrond and Glorfindel settle down in Imladris, where Lindir
slowly recovers after losing Ereinion. Elrond falls in love with Celebrían and
Námo’s meddling continues.
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s.
Warning: AU of course!
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, so consider yourself warned!
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I couldn’t have written this story without your help!
All remaining mistakes are mine.
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 5
Life had ceased to have meaning for Lindir. It didn’t matter if his eyes were open or closed, for the only scene he saw was Sauron slaying Ereinion. The moment his beloved had died, Lindir’s heart had stopped beating as well, but moments later it had started again, damning him to a life without his lover.
Although the Alliance of Elves and Men proved victorious there was little joy in the camps of the Firstborn or Secondborn; they had lost their beloved leaders. They also mourned the loss, but no one felt it as keenly as Lindir did. In his entranced state he barely noticed their victory. Glorfindel told him of it during one of his visits, but Lindir didn’t listen. All he could think of was losing the love of his life. Ereinion had been everything to him. The sun and the moon, the sky, the green of the earth – his star. And now he felt lost on this sea of emotions. There was no guiding star – he was alone.
Elrond, Glorfindel and Círdan took turns sitting with their unresponsive friend. They met and discussed the minstrel’s fate. Although Círdan offered to take care of Lindir, it was decided that the minstrel would travel to Imladris with Elrond and Glorfindel instead. Apparently, before his death, Ereinion had taken Elrond aside and had asked him to take Lindir to the valley.
Círdan entered the tent – which used to be Ereinion’s but now only housed Lindir – and seated himself on the side of the bed. Lindir worried him. He recalled the first time he had seen Lindir, after the Orcs had attacked him, and although Lindir had seemed lost back then as well, this empty stare worried him more. It was as if Lindir’s inner light had almost gone out. Only a tiny flame remained and kept him from fading.
“Lindir, you must find the strength and courage to go on. Ereinion would have wanted that.” Círdan didn’t expect an answer and continued now that Lindir remained quiet. “You are a survivor, meldir1. You lived through many horrific events and you will find a way to deal with the loss. I will always be there for you, should you need me.” He curled his long, calloused fingers around Lindir’s slender ones. “Elrond is a naturally gifted healer and he will contribute to your recovery. That is probably why Ereinion wanted you to go to Imladris with him, instead of with me.”
Círdan stroked the fingers, which lay motionless in the safety of his large warrior’s hand. “I will come with you to Imladris and I will stay for a while, but in the end, I must depart for the Gray Havens.” Looking into the glazed-over blue eyes, he leaned in closer and pushed his arms beneath Lindir’s back. Gently, he pulled his friend close and hugged him. “You are like a son to me and now that I've lost Ereinion, I…” His voice failed him. His heart mourned losing Ereinion as well, but he couldn’t give in to his pain – not when Lindir needed him to be the strong one. “I already miss him, Lindir. But more importantly, I miss you!”
Lindir gave no sign that he had heard – let alone, understood – Círdan’s words.
All the Shipwright could do was to hold Lindir tight and hope the minstrel would eventually return to them.
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“May I sit with him?” Glorfindel entered the tent and his watering eyes released their tears, finding Círdan rocking Lindir.
Círdan lowered Lindir onto the camp bed, trying to make things as comfortable as possible for Lindir. “He has not spoken since Ereinion died.” Círdan rose from the bed and made way for Glorfindel, who seated himself cross-legged on the floor. “He is in shock.”
“Such a state can last a long time.” Glorfindel gathered Lindir’s hand in his, not surprised to notice that the limb felt cold. Lindir was closer to death than life right now. “We can only hope and pray that he will pull through.”
“Elrond wishes to leave for Imladris tomorrow. I hope Lindir is strong enough to make that journey.”
“Elrond knows what he is doing,” said Glorfindel. The half-Elf had long ago gained his trust in these matters. “He does what is best for Lindir and staying here, so close to the battlefield where the stench of death and blood still oozes in pools is not the best place for Lindir to be. The sooner we leave the better.”
Círdan walked around the bed, until he stood near the doorway. He could now look Glorfindel in the eye and his gaze drifted from the golden-haired warrior to Lindir’s ghost-like form. “He was not this ill when I took care of him after he had fled Gondolin.”
Glorfindel looked up and gave Círdan a probing glance. He had heard that Círdan had nursed Lindir back to health, but the two Elves hadn’t discussed the past yet. “Thank you for looking after him. He did not deserve what happened to him in Gondolin.”
“We should be thanking Erestor instead. It was he, who brought Lindir to safety.” Círdan heard Glorfindel’s sharp intake of breath and wondered about the expression in the sapphire-like eyes.
“You met Erestor?” Glorfindel was eager to learn more of this mysterious Elf to whom he apparently was bound.
“Not directly. I heard his voice, but I never saw him – just a bright light. I did not know who he was until Lindir told me his name.”
/Odd, very odd,/ thought Glorfindel. Nothing about Erestor made sense!
Círdan saw the confusion in Glorfindel’s eyes and said, “Lindir once told me that he believes Erestor is still alive. If the two are really bound and destined to be with each other, he will find you.”
Glorfindel remained quiet and searched Lindir’s face instead, slowly understanding that his friend had the answers, which he needed so badly.
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Standing in the corner of the tent and invisible to Elven eyes, Erestor flinched. He had never considered the fact that together, Círdan and Lindir had enough information to deduce who he was. What would happen once Lindir woke and Glorfindel got a chance to ask his questions? Why hadn’t his father taken away Lindir and Círdan’s memories when he had erased Glorfindel’s? Now his former lover might find out the truth.
Having Glorfindel this close made his soul ache. The Elf was so close and yet impossibly far away. He walked toward Glorfindel, who was softly talking to Lindir, telling their friend that he would recover in Imladris. He wanted to touch Glorfindel – to run his hands down the silken hair. Closing his eyes, he remembered how good it had felt when Glorfindel had sunk into him, connecting their bodies and making them one. Oh, how he missed that! How he missed making love with Glorfindel!
“Do not torment yourself in such a way, my son.” Vairë appeared at Erestor’s side and placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “You knew the consequences when you left the Halls.”
“I never knew I would hurt this badly.” Erestor’s eyes locked with his mother’s. “I want them to be happy. Lindir and Glorfindel. They deserve that.”
“Even without your presence in their lives?”
“If that is the price I need to pay I will pay it.” Erestor’s hand passed through Glorfindel, when he tried to stroke the long, golden mane. “I love him still. I will always love him.”
“Come home with me, Erestor, and let Glorfindel comfort Lindir.” Vairë brushed raven strands away from her son’s face. “Lindir will recover and the three of them will be happy in Imladris.” But in her son’s eyes, she read the desire to be part of that. Erestor still longed to be reunited with Glorfindel and Lindir – even though he knew that Glorfindel would probably reject him and shun him.
“I cannot live without him,” said Erestor eventually, aching to feel Glorfindel in his arms again.
“You must.” Vairë folded an arm around her son’s shoulder and used her powers to take them back to the Halls of Waiting. Seeing the pain in her son’s eyes was more than she could take and she was determined to speak to her husband about this matter. If necessary, she would take this to Manwë himself.
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Ereinion had settled down in the Halls. Although he missed Lindir constantly, he understood that he had to find a way to deal with the loss. His family had welcomed him and had kept him company. He found some measure of comfort in their presence, but he still longed for Lindir. In the end, he had gone to the room he had been assigned and had sat down.
Lost in thought, he was staring into the fire, reminiscing on his death. At first, he didn’t hear the soft footfalls in the corridor, but then, they registered. “Who goes there?”
“No one. Pay me no attention.”
The soft voice, filled with immense sorrow, tore at his soul. In spite of his pain and misery, Ereinion tore his gaze away from the fire and tried to pierce the darkness in the corridor. “You do not have to leave on my accord.”
“I must… It is my destiny to walk these corridors alone for all eternity.”
Ereinion’s eyes narrowed, trying to discern the other Elf’s features, but failed. The darkness in the corridor grew deeper and then, the stranger was gone.
Puzzled, Ereinion frowned. But then his longing for Lindir returned and made his eyes water. “I miss you so much!”
“Sire?”
Disturbed a second time, Ereinion’s imaginary body drew in a deep breath. “Who is it?”
“My name is Ecthelion. May I enter?”
“Ecthelion?” For a moment, his misery left him alone and curiosity appeared. “Are you the Lord of the Fountain?” He marveled at the beauty of the dark-haired Elf who now stepped inside. Wearing blue leggings and an azure shirt, the dark-haired Elf made an almost magical impression on him. “I am honored that you would seek me out.”
“I remember how it was for me when I arrived here after Gondolin fell. I felt lost… And I did not leave behind a lover.” Ecthelion stepped into the room and sat down on the bed. “It is amazing, the way Námo has succeeded in mimicking our former lives. Although we are all dead, he still consoles us by allowing us to remain the way we were.”
“You have been here for a long time.” Ereinion shifted on his chair. “I have heard many tales and songs, which describe your valor that day.”
A rueful smile appeared on Ecthelion’s face. “My action saved Tuor’s life and his survival was important to me.”
“It *was* important.” Ereinion considered mentioning Elrond, but he wasn’t certain if Ecthelion knew much about the half-Elf. “I do not know what to make of these Halls,” he admitted eventually. “I never thought that being dead would be like this.”
“Each soul reacts in that way, sire…”
“Call me Ereinion – please.”
Ecthelion nodded. Although he marveled about the differences between Turgon and Ereinion he still knew how to obey a direct order, even if that meant addressing the High-King in such an informal way. “There is a certain measure of contentment to be found here.”
“I do not think I ever will feel content again, Ecthelion. I miss my beloved.”
/At least you had a beloved! That is more than I ever had!/ But Ecthelion didn’t speak the spiteful words, knowing better than to give into this negative feeling. “I pray you will seek out our company instead of isolating yourself in your rooms. Most of the Elf-Lords and former Kings gather in one of the main Halls and we would be honored to welcome you there.” Bringing Ereinion this invitation had been his main reason for visiting, but there was something else.
“I will go with you, Ecthelion. I do not desire to be alone any more.” Isolating himself from the other Elves would make this existence only more painful now that Lindir was out of his reach forever. He rose from his chair and joined Ecthelion when the Elf-Lord headed for the doorway. “Is there something else you wanted to say?” He saw curiosity and indecision in Ecthelion’s eyes.
“How does Glorfindel fare?” asked Ecthelion in a trembling voice.
“Ah, of course. I should have known.” Ereinion managed a weak smile. “Glorfindel was a good friend, an excellent warrior and became one of my main advisors over the years. I was honored to fight at his side.”
Ecthelion managed an equally weak smile. “I was relieved to notice that he survived. Visiting the Halls once should be enough – even for Glorfindel.”
“I left instructions for Elrond. He will take Glorfindel and… and Lindir,” his voice trembled, speaking his lover’s name, “He will take them to Imladris. They will know peace there and Glorfindel will doubtlessly become Imladris’ champion and her Captain.” Ereinion raised a hand and squeezed Ecthelion’s shoulder, still amazed at how real the Elf-Lord felt beneath his touch. It was like he was touching one of the living!
Ecthelion felt proud, hearing Glorfindel had done well, but that didn’t take away the fact that he still missed his best friend.
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“He is fit enough to travel,” decreed Elrond, still worried for Lindir’s well-being. But leaving for Imladris now was the sensible thing to do. The initial shock he had suffered after Ereinion’s death had dimmed, and once Elrond had realized that most Elves looked to him for guidance, he had gathered his strength to be the leader they needed him to be – for now.
“I will ride with him,” announced Glorfindel, who felt protective of Lindir. Also, he felt it was his *right* to be closest to Lindir because of the past they shared.
Círdan understood Glorfindel’s need to have Lindir close and nodded his approval. “We will travel at a slow speed. It does not matter if we arrive in Imladris early or a week late.”
Elrond concurred. “I have sent a messenger ahead. When we arrive in Imladris, they will be ready for us. Everyone who is coming with us will find a home there, if they so desire.”
That night, Elrond, Glorfindel and Círdan gathered in Lindir’s tent to confer softly and to keep their hurting friend company.
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Ereinion wished he had never come upon this tapestry for it showed him how much Lindir was suffering because of his death. “I never wanted for any of this to happen.”
Erestor, having kept a close eye on Ereinion, walked up to the dead High-King. “Elrond is taking him to Imladris. Lindir will slowly recover there. He needs time. He only lost you days ago.”
“How did you deal with losing Glorfindel?” Ereinion realized something was wrong with his question to moment he put it to Erestor.
“I lost my mind,” admitted Erestor. “I went insane with rage.”
“But, you are Námo’s son. Glorfindel and you were reunited inside these Halls.”
Erestor briefly closed his eyes. “I promised to share my history with you.”
“Aye, you did,” said Ereinion, nodding once. “Now seems like a good time.”
“I will tell you, then.”
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Ereinion’s head spun with everything Erestor had told him. “Glorfindel never forgave you? And your father erased his memory?” That explained why Glorfindel had insisted Erestor didn’t exist and that Lindir must be mistaken.
“I want him to be happy.” Erestor slid his hands into the sleeves of his dark robes. They had reached Vairë’s latest tapestry, showing them the party on their way to Imladris. Lindir was seated in front of Glorfindel and the golden-haired Elf’s stallion trotted carefully to not disturb the hurting Elf.
“How much longer will Lindir’s shock last?” Ereinion raised a hand and touched the tapestry. The next moment, he pulled back, embittered that his fingertips only encountered fabric and not Lindir himself.
“A few more weeks at least… Maybe even several months. It is hard to say when he will feel strong enough to face the loss. But until that moment he is in the best hands. Elrond, Glorfindel and Círdan will take care of him.”
“I told him to carry on and to make my dream reality. I always dreamt of a peaceful existence, tucked away in a valley as lovely as Imladris, where I would not have to be the King. Where I could just be me.”
“Lindir knows that you want him to live on,” said Erestor, thoughtfully. “Give him time.”
“Do I have a choice?” asked Ereinion in a bitter voice.
“Nay, you do not.” Erestor averted his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if he had done the right thing in rescuing Lindir that fateful day – hadn’t he just prolonged his friend’s suffering?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“We are home.” A gigantic burden seemed to fall away from his shoulders now that they had arrived in Imladris. Elrond felt drained; waging war for seven years had exhausted him, and taking care of Lindir had tired him further. But now they had finally arrived and all the weary warriors could rest.
“This is truly the Last Homely House,” whispered Círdan, who smiled, intercepting Elrond’s pleased look. “You have an Elven realm here, which will always be unrivaled in beauty and peace.”
“I look forward to that,” replied Elrond, dismounting. He walked over to Glorfindel’s stallion and accepted Lindir into his arms. Cradling Lindir against his chest, Elrond waited for Círdan and Glorfindel to dismount, and then the Elves entered their new home. “I have made arrangements for Lindir,” explained Elrond. “He has rooms adjourning to mine so I can keep an eye on him at all times.”
Glorfindel felt wearier with every step he took. These last few weeks on the road had caused much of his zest for life to dim. Seeing Lindir’s misery had made him feel depressed in turn. He longed to lie down and find oblivion in sleep. A hand suddenly squeezed his shoulder and he looked into Círdan’s encouraging eyes.
“Things will change for the better and Lindir will improve,” said the Shipwright.
A young Elf appeared to their right and bowed respectfully. He was dressed in simple brown robes and long, auburn hair framed a handsome and intelligent face. The dark eyes sparkled with life energy. “Welcome home, my Lord Elrond.”
Elrond smiled at the Elf and said, “Melpomaen, please show Círdan and Glorfindel to their rooms. I will take care of this one personally.”
“As you wish, my Lord.” Melpomaen’s gaze shifted from Elrond and Lindir to the two legendary Elves on his left. “Master Círdan, Lord Glorfindel, please follow me.”
Círdan smiled in a fatherly manner. “Lead on, dearest Melpomaen.” Círdan pulled Glorfindel along, realizing the golden-haired Elf would prefer to stay with Lindir, but Elrond needed time alone with Lindir to work his healing powers.
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His rooms were luxurious and an immense change from the tents he had lived in these last seven years. Glorfindel appreciated his new, lavish rooms, but he felt edgy, like the war wasn’t over yet.
After Círdan and Melpomaen had left, he had taken a long, hot bath. He had brushed and braided his hair and then dressed in clean leggings and shirt. He had been in the progress of girding on his sword when he realized that it was no longer necessary that he was armed. The enemy had been defeated and peace had settled on the valley.
Growing nervous and feeling cornered in his rooms Glorfindel left them to explore the Last Homely House, as Círdan had christened it. He easily located the barracks where his soldiers had settled down and mingled with them, talking with them. It didn’t take him long to realize he *did* have a place here. They had named him their new Captain – their commander – and were ready to see to the protection of Imladris. Glorfindel was eager to comply.
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Círdan on the other hand, enjoyed his luxurious surroundings. After washing off the dirt and grime of the road and changing into clean clothes, he followed his nose, which led him to the kitchen.
After eating his fill and thanking the cook, Círdan also set out to explore. He had been here before, but back then they had been focused on the upcoming war. Now, he took his time exploring Imladris’ hidden beauties.
In the end, he left the rose garden and headed back to the house, hoping to find Elrond there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“This will do.” Elrond gave his chief healer a thankful nod. “Leave me alone with him now.”
The healer left and Elrond seated himself on the side of the bed Lindir was resting on. They had attended to Lindir’s needs, bathed, and dressed the catatonic Elf in a light robe. Lindir now rested on a comfortable bed, but the skin remained ashen and the eyes empty. “I cannot allow you to continue like this, meldir. Ereinion would want you to live, not fade.”
He drew in a deep breath and focused on Lindir. Elrond pulled Lindir into his arms and rested his chin on the white hair. Gathering his healing energy, he forced it out of his mind and into Lindir’s.
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The scream that echoed through Imladris froze the blood in Círdan’s veins. The Shipwright ran in the direction it was coming from, flung the door open, and stared at Lindir, who was pummeling Elrond. The half-Elf had crumbled on the bed and Lindir’s fists descended onto the collapsed form time and time again. Once he had shaken off his stupor, Círdan rushed forward. “Lindir! Stop!”
Glorfindel, who had also been alerted by the scream, marched into the room. His heart missed a beat, finding Lindir burying his fists in Elrond’s back. Whilst Círdan pulled Lindir away from Elrond, Glorfindel folded his arms around the half-Elf and gently lowered him onto the floor.
Círdan didn’t get the chance to ask what had happened as Lindir tried to hit him as well. Gathering Lindir’s wrists in one hand, he forced the white-haired Elf to stop his actions. “Lindir!”
Lindir’s white hair surrounded his head like a halo, the blue eyes had turned frost-bitten and the narrow lips had lost most of the blood that usually gave them their ruby color. “He is dead!” screamed Lindir, almost losing his voice in the process. “Ereinion is dead! I watched him die!”
Círdan managed to lock gazes with Lindir. “I know that, Lindir. And I am here to help you deal with his death. Stop trying to hit me, meldir. You are amongst friends.”
Círdan’s calm tone registered with Lindir and the minstrel sagged against the Shipwright. He didn’t know what had happened just now. One moment he had been asleep, dreaming of Ereinion and holding him close in his arms, and the next, the loss had become unbearable. He had never wanted to wake up again in the first place!
Now that Lindir had calmed down, Círdan’s attention shifted to Glorfindel, who was supporting Elrond. The half-Elf was breathing heavily and the eyes rolled back in their sockets. “He used his healing energy to wake Lindir,” realized Círdan, chastising himself for not realizing earlier what Elrond planned to do. /He should have asked me to assist him and not do this on his own!/
“How does Elrond fare?” How exhausted was the half-Elf?
“He just lost consciousness!” Glorfindel exchanged a look with Círdan and knew what he had to do. “Can you look after Lindir? Elrond needs…” What did the half-Elf need?
“Take Elrond to his room and put him to bed. Sit with him until he regains awareness. I will take care of Lindir.” Seeing Glorfindel’s worried expression, he added, “Trust me. I have taken care of Lindir before. I know what to do.”
Glorfindel put his trust in Círdan and lifted the half-Elf in his arms. He was surprised to find out just how little Elrond weighed. Had Elrond lost so much weight during these last few weeks?
He carried Elrond into the adjourning room and placed the Peredhel2 on the bed. Pulling up the blankets, he tucked them around the unconscious half-Elf. Glorfindel sat down and gathered one of Elrond’s hands between his. He hadn’t known Elrond possessed such healing powers! “You exhausted yourself by helping him wake up.” He hadn’t thought Elrond could do such a thing and the half-Elf had just risen even higher in his admiration.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Lindir, I share your pain, but…”
“You cannot possibly know the pain I am in!” Lindir hissed the words and broke away from Círdan’s supportive grip. He collapsed on the bed and curled up in a fetal position. “You have no idea how much pain I feel!”
Círdan drew in a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. He stretched beside Lindir, and once he had caught the frosty glance, he nodded once. “Aye, you are right. I did not love Ereinion the way you did. He was not my bonded mate. But Ereinion was precious to me as well, Lindir. He was the son I never had. I raised him – I taught him everything he knew. You have lost your beloved, but I have lost my son. Do not belittle my loss.”
The glare in Lindir’s eyes broke. “Oh, I never wanted… I did not think… Círdan, I…”
Círdan got exactly the reaction he had aimed for. Lindir wrapped his arms around him in turn and hugged him close. “I share your pain, Lindir. Do not shut me out. Let me in. Together, we can carry on. We can support each other. You are not alone, Lindir. You never will be.”
Círdan’s words caused the emotional dam inside Lindir to break and all the pain and grief came pouring out – together with a river of tears, shed by two pair of eyes. Both Elves mourned losing a loved one.
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Ereinion returned to his room after spending time in the main Hall with the other Elf-Lords and former Kings. Even though their company distracted him, it didn’t offer him any comfort. At times, he preferred to seek out the privacy of his room, where he would lay down on his bed, close his eyes, and dream of times gone by. He wasn’t certain if the ability to dream was a curse or a blessing, as he always dreamt of Lindir.
Sometimes, when he was alone and everything around him quiet, he would hear those hesitant footfalls in the corridor again. Once or twice, he had checked to see if someone was there, but the corridor had been shrouded in darkness, making it impossible for him to see clearly.
Those mysterious footfalls now sounded again, and this time, Ereinion was prepared. He grabbed the candle holder and walked toward the doorway. Not entering the corridor yet, he called out, “Who goes there?”
“No one, do not pay me any attention. I do not exist.”
Like before, the sad, almost lost tone in that voice gripped his heart, and although he no longer possessed a beating heart, it still felt like it just missed a beat. When the footfalls sounded the clearest, Ereinion flung the door open and entered the corridor, illuminating his surroundings with the candle. A breeze, coming out of nowhere, extinguished the flame, but not before he had seen a pair of tormented dark eyes. Darkness clothed the Elf stumbling down the corridor and in the next moment, the stranger was gone.
“He is right, Ereinion. You should not pay him any attention.”
Ereinion spun around, surprised to find Námo standing behind him. “Who is that Elf?”
“He no longer has a name, Ereinion. He is unworthy of your attention. The next time you hear him, ignore him. Do not call out to him.”
“I do not understand.” Ereinion studied Námo closely.
“No understanding is needed on your part, only obedience.” Námo began walking down the corridor, leaving Ereinion alone. The first stage of his plan had been completed. The High-King’s curiosity had been piqued.
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Elrond’s eyes, which had closed when he had fainted, slowly opened again. Lindir’s reaction had taken him by surprise, and in his weakened state, he had been unable to deflect those first, violent blows.
“How do you fare, Elrond?” Glorfindel supported the half-Elf, finding that Elrond was trying to push himself into a sitting position.
“My head is spinning.” And his back ached – there where Lindir’s fists had connected with flesh.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Glorfindel looked at Elrond in a new light. Apart from being a cunning warrior and strategist, the half-Elf was also a true healer.
“Aye, you can.” Elrond lifted a shaky arm and pointed at a crystal flask on the nightstand. “Hand me that.”
Glorfindel reached for the flask, opened it and poured the liquid into a glass, which he then handed the half-Elf. “What is it?”
“Miruvor. My healers make it for me.” With shaky hands, Elrond curled his fingers around the glass. He sipped the miruvor, and the potent drink warmed him from the inside, strengthening him. “How fares Lindir?”
“Círdan is with him.” It had quieted down in the adjourning room, which Glorfindel interpreted as a good sign. Color began to return to Elrond’s face and the tremors lessened. “Does using your healing powers always exhaust you?”
“Aye, it does. That is why I seldom used them in the past. I could not afford to be weakened in times of war.” Elrond leaned heavily against Glorfindel, gathering his strength. “I should return to Lindir’s side now.”
“You should not,” said Glorfindel in a soft voice. “Círdan has everything under control and you should rest.”
“I had to wake him. You understand that, don’t you, meldir?”
“I do. I believe you did the right thing in forcing Lindir to return to us.” Glorfindel continued to support Elrond who felt warm against him. Oh, sweet Valar, it had been so long since he had held someone in his arms – feeling someone’s body heat!
“Círdan knows Lindir well, Elrond. He knows how to deal with Lindir’s pain. He has done so before.”
“He has?” Sleepily, Elrond’s eyes began to close.
“Aye, but we should not talk about something so troubling when you need to rest.” Glorfindel shifted further onto the bed and rested his back against the head board. “I assume it is normal for you to go to sleep after using your healing energy?”
“It is… but normally… I do not… faint…”
“Bringing Lindir back to us must have been more tiring than you thought.” Glorfindel held Elrond close and the half-Elf’s breathing slowed down, indicating his charge had fallen into a restful sleep. Moving away would wake Elrond and he didn’t want that, so Glorfindel stayed in place, holding him.
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Lindir felt numb and empty once he had shed all those tears, which he had kept inside these last few weeks. He felt weak and had no desire to move at all. Círdan’s arms were still wrapped around him and his friend’s presence soothed him. /I am so sorry that I forgot that you are hurting too. I did not want to belittle your pain. I know how much you loved him./ Speaking the words however, as an apology, took too much of his strength and he remained quiet instead.
Círdan continued to hug Lindir close. “I am so relieved that you woke and returned to us.”
“I did not want… to wake. I… was… dreaming of… of him.”
“But you cannot run away from reality, Lindir. Ereinion would not have wanted you to do that. He wanted you to live and fulfill his dreams. A dream, which has come alive in this valley.”
Lindir lifted tired eyes and met Círdan’s probing glance. “I do not want… to continue… without him. Life is… meaningless… without him… at my side.”
“It is not meaningless. As long as you live, Ereinion will remain alive in your heart, thoughts and soul. Honor him. Keep his memory alive and live the life he wanted you to live.”
“But how… do I find… the strength… to carry on?” Lindir slowly freed himself of Círdan’s embrace and sat upright. He pulled his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “I know that… he wanted me to honor him… by living my life to the fullest… but it seems so empty… without him.”
Círdan wondered if Lindir’s calm should worry him. Sitting upright as well, he probed Lindir’s eyes. “You are much stronger than you think. Ereinion knew that. The strength you need is already inside you. You only need to let it in.” Círdan moved a little closer and stared deeply into Lindir’s eyes. “The real question is; do you want to move on? Can you accept that you are a survivor?”
“Looks like… I will find out.”
Círdan finally let a genuine smile come through. With those words, Lindir had admitted the willingness to try – the white-haired Elf’s need to drown in self-pity had lessened. “You are strong and a survivor. Ereinion believed in you for a reason, did he not?”
“How can I be anything less? I will honor him by living up to his expectations, but I won’t find any happiness in this lonely life.”
Círdan allowed the bitter comment, knowing he had won the first fight in the long war for Lindir’s recovery.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“We are agreed, then,” said Manwë, after conversing with Námo and Vairë.
“Aye.” Námo exchanged a pleased glance with his wife. “Eru’s will shall be done.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lindir recovered little by little. Gradually, he grew stronger and Elrond allowed him to leave his bed after one week had passed. Someone was always close to the minstrel, but most of the time it was Círdan, who was regularly found hovering close to the recuperating Elf.
Glorfindel had taken it upon himself to organize Imladris’ defenses and accepted the position of Captain of the Guard when Elrond officially offered it to him. Having a place to call home again felt good and did wonders for the warrior, whose inner lights glowed more radiant with every passing day.
However, Glorfindel remained worried about Elrond. The half-Elf worked long hours and hard. Elrond worked with the healers in the morning, trained alongside the guards in the afternoon and saw to the paperwork that filled his desk in the evening. The weight, which Elrond had lost in the last weeks of that war, was never regained and the half-Elf remained too skinny for Glorfindel’s taste, but he kept his opinion to himself, not wanting to offend.
Círdan however, didn’t kept silent and one evening, whilst eating dinner, he addressed the matter. “Elrond, you need to rest. Ever since we lost Ereinion you have been running yourself ragged. Even you need to rest.”
“I appreciate your concern,” said Elrond, pushing away his plate as he was no longer hungry. “But there is so much work to be done.”
“Then enlist help,” suggested Glorfindel, who decided to support Círdan in this matter. “You are doing the work of several Elves.”
Lindir, who had remained quiet, continued to play with his food and studied Elrond for the first time in weeks. Ever since the half-Elf had woken him from his trance he had avoided dealing with Elrond, as a part of him blamed the half-Elf for making him face life without Ereinion. But, as he looked closely, he had to admit both Elves were right. Elrond looked worn down. “I can help… If you want my assistance, that is.”
Three pairs of eyes widened at hearing his offer. Lindir knew he had surprised them by offering his services, but for him it was an essential step in his recovery. He had promised Círdan to find work, which he would enjoy doing and keep him busy. Helping Elrond seemed the right thing to do. Círdan had suggested practicing playing his lyre and composing songs, but it was too early to take that step. He knew that once he reached for the harp and expressed his feelings, a new emotional storm would come over him and he wasn’t ready yet to deal with that. He had to take this step by step.
“You?” Realizing how that must have sounded, Elrond quickly apologized. “I did not mean to offend you, Lindir, but I thought…”
“That I preferred not to be around you?” Lindir drew in a deep breath and felt grateful that the four of them were having dinner in the privacy of Elrond’s rooms. He wouldn’t have felt comfortable addressing this in the Hall of Fire where they would be surrounded by Elrond’s household. “It is true that I resented you for waking me from my trance, but Círdan and I talked and I realized that I was doing you an injustice. You did what you thought was right for me.”
“That is true,” said Elrond, quickly. “I did not think it would be good for you to remain in such a state much longer. I was only trying to help.”
Lindir smiled at Elrond – his first real smile since losing Ereinion. “I trust you will accept my offer, then?”
“I will, but…”
“But what?” Lindir’s eyes narrowed.
“I hope that the day will come when you will take your rightful place as the head minstrel in my house.” Elrond gave Lindir a shy look.
Lindir nodded once. “Maybe, when the time comes.” Considering the matter dealt with, Lindir reluctantly ate some of the fish and potatoes. He wasn’t hungry, but Círdan’s expression told him to eat or else he would face another lecture.
Glorfindel had watched Lindir during the conversation and he took heart, realizing his friend was growing stronger. Losing Ereinion would affect the minstrel forever, but at least, Lindir was willing to rebuild his life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ereinion was growing weary of this cat and mouse game. Each evening – well, he assumed it was evening – he heard soft footfalls in the corridor and when he went to check, the stranger was already gone.
Standing next to his bed, he tried to decide what to do. He could lie down, close his eyes and dream of his lost love – of his lovely Lindir. Or, he could stay awake and try to catch this mysterious stranger.
“Does something trouble you?” Turgon entered and advanced on his successor. “I know that the Halls aren’t the most pleasant place to dwell, but one grows used to it.” Like so many Elves he had accepted his destiny and had found some measure of peace in doing so. But Ereinion hadn’t reached that stage yet.
Ereinion turned and looked at the former King of Gondolin. “Do you hear someone walk the corridors at night? Soft footfalls, almost dragging through the corridor?”
Turgon raised an eyebrow. “Never. Are you certain you actually hear this at night? Maybe it only happens in your dreams?”
“I am quite certain he is real,” said Ereinion in a thoughtful voice. “I have seen his eyes once. They are dark and haunted.”
Turgon shook his head. “I know of no one like that, meldir.”
“Forget I ever mentioned it, then.” Ereinion forced a smile onto his face. “Let us join the others and remember times gone by.” He would stay for a little while and return in time to catch the mysterious Elf.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Adar? Explain to me why Ereinion can hear and see him?” Erestor was intrigued by this development. “Part of his punishment is to walk these Halls alone and unseen. You changed that. Why?” His father would never cease to amaze him!
Námo gave his son a wicked smile. “I am only carrying out Eru’s will.”
“But what is the purpose of all this? Why change the terms of his punishment?”
“Things change, Erestor. And sometimes, we need to change with them.” Námo gave Erestor a profound look. “You will learn that lesson in time.”
Erestor frowned; he didn’t like the way that sounded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
/I will find out who you are and why no one else hears or sees you./ Ereinion had asked several Elves about the mysterious stranger that passed by his door every night, but no one had ever noticed him. /It is like you are invisible to everyone, except me. Now, why is that?/
Ereinion left his door open and pushed a chair closer to the doorway. He lit several candles and then sat down, waiting for the other Elf to appear again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You should lie down, Elrond. You look tired.” Lindir had been working with Elrond for one week now and found himself performing many duties he had also performed when he had assisted Ereinion. Most of the paperwork was his responsibility now, but Elrond still tried to help whenever he could. “It is late and Ithil has already risen. You should rest, Elrond.”
Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose. “These are letters I have to answer personally and they cannot wait.” One was from Thranduil, who insisted they discussed the circumstances of his father’s death and the letter was full of insults and accusations. Reading it had caused him to develop a severe headache. The second one was from the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, requesting permission to visit Imladris to tighten relationships between their realms. This was a very important letter and Elrond wanted to make the best possible impression by answering it. The Golden Wood would be a powerful ally. “I will rest later.”
Elrond briefly swayed on his feet, but Lindir caught it. /Someone has to protect him from himself. Ereinion was like that too – always working too hard./ Thinking of his beloved caused him pain, but instead of causing him to grow depressed, he found strength in remembering the happy moments they had shared.
“Melpomaen?” Lindir had quickly enlisted the younger Elf as his assistant, easing Elrond’s workload even further by delegating certain matters to Melpomaen. “Would you fetch Círdan for me?”
Melpomaen nodded and left to do Lindir’s bidding.
“Why are you sending for Círdan?” Elrond quickly sat down and rested his head against the comfort of his chair. He knew he was overdoing it, but every beginning was a fragile time, and Imladris was still fragile until every aspect had been taken care of.
Lindir chose not to answer that question and when he looked at Elrond, he found that the half-Elf’s eyes were closing. For one moment he panicked, but then reminded himself that Elrond slept with his eyes closed whenever exhaustion was upon him.
Círdan entered a few minutes later and gave Lindir a questioning glance. He would leave Imladris tomorrow and knew Lindir wasn’t pleased about that, but he couldn’t stay much longer. He was needed at the Havens. “You sent for me?”
“Elrond refuses to rest. Would you escort him to his rooms?” Lindir gave Círdan a conspiring smile. “He won’t fight you.” Oh, he would miss Círdan! The Shipwright had always been important to him, and having him at his side after Ereinion had died had been a true blessing. He only hoped he could cope once Círdan was gone.
“I will take him to his rooms,” said Círdan, smiling brightly. He walked toward Elrond and slowly pulled the protesting half-Elf to his feet. “Now, do not fight me, pen-neth3.”
Elrond considered doing just that, but then realized resistance was probably futile. “I will get you for this, Lindir,” he whispered in a sleepy voice.
Lindir grinned. Seeing that grin made Círdan’s heart feel lighter. /He is dealing with the loss and moving on. I can leave, knowing he will continue to improve./
Lindir waited for Círdan and Elrond to leave and then told Melpomaen to close the door. “Let us start with writing a reply to the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. We have a lot of work to do.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You should take better care of yourself,” said Círdan, assisting Elrond in lying down on his bed. “You are all we have left.” The moment the words left his lips, he realized just why Elrond had been pushing himself so hard.
“Exactly,” whispered Elrond in a sleepy voice. He turned onto his side and curled up into a fetal position. “I cannot let… them… down.” His breathing evened out, the eyes closed and sleep claimed him.
“I should have realized so before.” Círdan remained standing near the bed. They had placed all responsibility on Elrond – unwillingly and unknowingly – and Elrond had accepted his new, unofficial leadership. “I wish I could stay and rectify things…” But his presence at the Havens was required. But, maybe there was another way. All he needed to do was write Celeborn a letter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Glorfindel was beginning to feel at home in Imladris. In the morning, he looked over the duty rosters, in the afternoon, he trained with his guards and in the evening he had dinner with his friends. In some ways his life here resembled his life in Gondolin.
Except for the fact that it felt like something profound – something very important was missing from his life.
“Did I actually manage to catch you thinking?” Lindir smiled, teasingly, and then sat cross-legged on the grass next to Glorfindel.
Glorfindel laughed. “I *do* think occasionally!”
“I know you do.” Lindir rested his hand on Glorfindel’s and stroked the skin beneath his fingertips. “Care to share your thoughts with me?”
“Something is missing from my life.”
“Not something – someone,” corrected Lindir. Ever since that day in Lindon, he had refrained from discussing Erestor, suspecting mentioning him would only upset Glorfindel. And he hadn’t wanted to do that so shortly after Glorfindel’s rebirth. But the situation was different now; the threat Sauron had posed was momentarily gone and they lived in peace. The time had come to focus on personal matters.
“You would probably say I am missing Erestor.”
/Ah, my words really made you think!/ That development pleased Lindir, who still had hopes that Glorfindel might remember his bonded mate one day. “Why do you think that?” Glorfindel’s fingers touched the locket and Lindir realized that the golden-haired warrior had never taken it off. Glorfindel had even worn it on the battlefields.
“You said that this Elf, called Erestor, was my bonded mate. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot remember him. It is like he never existed.”
“Then whose lock sits inside your locket?”
Glorfindel sighed. “I do not know the answer to that question. But you were right; it is not Ecthelion’s. His hair was not raven.” And he couldn’t remember an Elf with raven hair.
“I believe Erestor is still alive and trying to find his way back to you. I do not know what happened to him after Gondolin fell, but…” Lindir scooted closer and continued once Glorfindel had made eye-contact. “But you always told him to carry on, even if you died in battle. You told Erestor the same thing Ereinion told me. I could not die, even though I wanted to. Neither could Erestor.”
Glorfindel cringed, seeing the way Lindir’s eyes were growing watered. “I am sorry he had to die. Maybe if I had been faster, more alert…”
Lindir shook his head. “Nay, it was his destiny to die that day. Ereinion had had dreams – visions – that announced his death.” Tears leaked from his foggy eyes and he resolutely wiped them away. “I will honor him by living my life, but not a single day passes by when I do not miss him.”
Glorfindel wrapped Lindir in a warm embrace. “You have a life here now. You have friends here.” And who knew? Maybe – in time – Lindir would find a new love. He hoped so, for his friend’s sake. Lindir was too kind and lovable a person to remain alone for the rest of his life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The footfalls weren’t soft tonight. They were heavy and pronounced, and seemed to drag down the corridor. That was the moment Ereinion had been waiting for. Stretching his long legs, they easily covered the space before his doorway and blocked the stranger’s path.
Ereinion’s eyes narrowed, seeing a cloud of darkness approach. Looking closely, he realized he could see the shape of an Elf. An Elf who was forced to a stop when coming up against the barrier his legs presented.
“Let me pass.”
The voice was deep and hollow and the words were spoken in an aggravated and sorrow-burdened tone. Ereinion forced the urge to move and remained motionless.
“Let me pass.”
More pain – more misery -- colored the ghost-like voice and hearing it filled Ereinion with immense sorrow. “I desire to talk to you. Please come inside and sit by my fire.” He had built that fire with a purpose; not only would it warm the room, but it would also illuminate it and give him a chance to discern the stranger’s features.
“Let me pass.”
“Not before you answer my questions.” Ereinion left the chair in a heartbeat and stood in front of the dark-clad Elf, cutting the stranger off from the rest of the corridor. The other Elf was cornered – and the stranger knew it.
“You are not supposed to talk to me.” None of the fëar3 was supposed to hear or see him! Part of his punishment was solitude, to be locked out and forgotten. How was it then possible that this one soul had noticed him? And why was the soul inviting him into his room?
It was almost impossible to discern any features in the darkness that surrounded this one. The only thing Ereinion clearly noticed were the dark eyes, filled with regrets. “I am not one to follow orders.”
“Even when they come from Námo himself?” He was confused. Why was this happening? Nothing like this had ever happened before and he had been walking these Halls for millennia now. He knew he deserved this punishment and had accepted it, knowing he was damned for all eternity. The things he had done – the crimes he had committed – had blackened his fëa4 and the Valar’s ruling had been milder than he had thought. That had been at first, when he hadn’t fully realized that being invisible to them was the worst possible sentence. “You should listen to the Vala and let me pass.”
Ereinion had always enjoyed a challenge. “Come inside and sit by my fire. Answer my questions and should your replies be satisfactory, I will let you go.”
“You cannot be serious! You will bring down the wrath of Námo upon yourself by doing so! Do you not understand that I am to be ignored?”
“Now tell me, why is that?” Ereinion leaned against the wall in a casual manner. It was obvious that the other Elf wanted to flee, but his path was blocked.
“I must walk these Halls alone! Such is my punishment. Now let me pass. I hope for your sake that Námo has not noticed that you stopped me and talked to me.” When he had still been alive, he had stopped being concerned for others early in life, but his solitude had changed him and he didn’t want to get this soul to get into trouble for showing curiosity and maybe even compassion.
“Námo already knows and warned me. Not that I pay such warnings much attention.”
Ereinion’s words caused him distress. “You should not defy him. He is more powerful than you know.”
Ereinion had achieved one goal already; he had engaged this stranger in conversation and it didn’t matter if they were bickering. It kept the other Elf in place. “I repeat my offer, knowing full well that Námo might not approve. Come inside and warm yourself by my fire.” /I doubt Námo disapproves,/ he thought to himself. /If he did, he would have appeared by now. Námo knows we are talking and has not interfered yet./ Námo might be cunning, but so was he.
“I should not.” But the invitation was tempting. It had been millennia since he had last talked to someone, had sat at someone’s fireplace and had enjoyed some sort of company. “Nay, I cannot.” Ereinion’s next action took him completely by surprise. The former High-King extended a hand and reached into the darkness surrounding him, taking hold of his arm. His eyes widened; this was most unexpected and unheard of! The Valar had taken away his form, damning him to live without a body image! So how could it be that this Elf was touching him?
“You are insulting me and my hospitality by declining my offer. Surely, you would not begrudge a dead High-King your company?” Ereinion was surprised when those words made the stranger tremble violently. The cold flesh beneath his fingertips grew goose bumps.
“Who are you?” Until now, he hadn’t bothered to ask that question, but…
“My name is Ereinion Gil-Galad. I was the last High-King of the Noldor.”
“Turgon’s successor and Fingon’s son.” Had he not been dead already, he would have died again out of fright and shame. “Let me go.” He tried to shake off Ereinion’s arm, but failed. The other Elf’s hold was too strong.
“Nay, you will come inside with me, warm yourself at my fire and we will talk.” He was used to others following his orders, not protesting them!
“Listen to me, sire. I am saying this for your own good! Let go of me and let me pass. Whenever you hear me walk the corridor, turn away from me and do not hear me!” His actions had condemned one High-King to death, and he didn’t want Ereinion to suffer because he was talking to him. “Námo will punish you if you do not heed my words!”
“I doubt that.” Ereinion made up his mind and pulled the stranger inside – into the light of the room and then flung the door shut, effectively trapping the stranger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elrond smiled at Lindir, who sat on the windowsill of his study, softly plucking at the strings of his lyre. Lindir had turned many of his duties over to Melpomaen, who had become Elrond’s personal assistant. Lindir, in turn, had dedicated himself to his music again and once more was becoming the master-minstrel he had been in the past.
Aye, life was good, thought Elrond, pleased. His household was well-organized these days. Melpomaen saw to most of the paperwork, Glorfindel organized the patrols and Imladris’ defenses, and Lindir had found his love for music again.
“My Lord, are there any last-minute arrangements I need to take care of concerning the arrival of the royal couple?” Melpomaen smiled, happy that he had been able to contribute in his own way to make Imladris their home. He respected the half-Elf and had grown protective of his Lord over the years. That feeling had lessened somewhat, when Elrond had finally begun to take care of his needs. The half-Elf had put on some weight, took personal time off and enjoyed life as it was supposed to be enjoyed.
“Not to my knowledge. Thank you, meldir. That should be all for today.”
“The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood will arrive in the morning,” said Glorfindel, entering Elrond’s study. “The border guards already sighted them.”
“We are prepared for their arrival.” Elrond stretched his long legs and closed his eyes, enjoying this perfect moment in time. He was amongst friends, Lindir was playing a lovely melody and the sun warmed him. What more could he want?
/A wife and children,/ supplied his subconscious.
Elrond drew in a deep breath. Aye, it was true that he was ready to take a wife and sire children, but he wasn’t talented in the way of courting. Whenever he was in the company of a she-Elf, he would start stuttering and blushing. He had labeled himself a hopeless case and had given up on finding someone willing to accept the stuttering fool he turned into at such moments.
Glorfindel sat down on the corner of the oak desk and exchanged a wicked look with Lindir. The minstrel caught it and raised an eyebrow, prompting Glorfindel to share whatever information he was keeping back. “Lord Celeborn is in the company of two she-Elves, not just one.”
Elrond’s eyes opened abruptly. “What?” He only expected the Lady Galadriel to accompany Celeborn! During their prior visits, they had never brought another she-Elf along! Neither had the couple informed him of this development!
“One of the border guards, who has family in the Golden Wood, identified the second she-Elf as the Lady Celebrían.” Glorfindel chuckled, seeing the startled expression in Elrond’s eyes. He had long grown used to the scheming of royal houses and had realized why the couple would bring along their daughter for this particular visit. The Lady Celebrían seemed the perfect choice. “A marriage would strengthen the alliance between Imladris and Lothlórien.”
“A marriage?” Elrond jumped to his feet. “Marriage?”
“Calm yourself, Elrond!” Lindir placed aside his lyre, rose, and advanced on the half-Elf. “Didn’t you express the wish to start a family?”
“I only divulged that information to the two of you! Which one told on me?”
“The Lady Galadriel is gifted with foresight, meldir,” said Glorfindel. “She does not need us to supply her with such information.” Amused, he watched Elrond pace. He had seen Elrond’s clumsy attempts before when speaking to she-Elves and hoped things would be different with Celebrían.
“I understand, Elrond. I really do. You have only known war… You were raised amongst males and were seldom around she-Elves. You feel insecure. But that feeling will pass. Give her a chance. Who knows, maybe the Lady Celebrían will find you charming.”
Elrond gave Glorfindel a pleading look. “I *am* ready to settle down, marry, and sire children. I want that more than anything, but…”
“Do not worry that much.” Lindir squeezed Elrond’s shoulder. “Stop trying to control the situation. Meet with her and find out if you like her.”
“Your advice is wise,” said Elrond, growing a little more hopeful. He really wanted that – a wife and children. He was ready to be a husband and a father.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Erestor hurried to consult with his father. “Adar, Ereinion, he…”
Námo raised a hand to stop Erestor. “I know what is happening. I know everything that lies in the will of Eru. Do you think I would allow for this to happen if it was not Eru’s will?”
“You are given him a chance to redeem himself? But I thought his punishment was to last forever!” Erestor had mixed feelings about this development. For a long time he had hated the traitor, but that had changed during these last few years. That hatred had changed into pity.
“We all make mistakes, Erestor. You made yours, didn’t you?” Námo advanced on his son and placed his hands on Erestor’s shoulders. “You suffer from the consequences of your decisions – do you think that will last forever?”
Erestor frowned. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“Nothing last forever. Punishment serves a purpose. Once that purpose has been served it is time for change. Change is upon him now, and Ereinion.”
“Tell me more.”
Námo nodded, realizing it was time to confide in Erestor. “Manwë and I are carrying out Eru’s will. Always remember that.”
“What is his will then?”
“Eru is willing to give the traitor a chance to redeem himself. Should he find true love in these Halls, he will be released from his punishment.”
“But Ereinion does not even know who he is befriending!”
“Do you think so? I always thought of Ereinion as intelligent and cunning. If he has not realized his guest’s identity by now, he will shortly.” Námo shrugged his shoulders. “Will learning his identity make a difference to Ereinion? I do not think so.”
Erestor stared at his father in surprise. “You want him to find redemption?”
“Do you know what made Maeglin the way he was? Do you know what happened to him? Do you?”
“Nay, I do not.” Erestor lowered his eyes.
“But I do. And so does Eru. Erestor, each fëa is precious, even Maeglin’s. Even more so if it can be reclaimed for good.”
“Why Ereinion? He loves Lindir!”
“Exactly! That is why! Ereinion has a loving and forgiving heart. You might think that it was my doing – that Ereinion heard and then saw Maeglin. But you are wrong. It was his compassionate nature that noticed the suffering soul.”
Erestor truly didn’t know what to think of this development. “Maeglin caused the death of so many, Adar. How can Eru offer him a chance to redeem himself?”
Námo’s eyes hardened. “You lied to Glorfindel and he rejected you. Tell me, do you deserve a chance to redeem yourself?”
That question impacted hard and Erestor flinched. “I lost his love.”
“You did not answer my question.” Námo hated pushing his son like this, but it was necessary.
“I do not.”
“Be honest!” Námo shook his head and rephrased his question. “Do you think Eru deems you worthy of a second chance?”
Erestor, who had bowed his head, now looked his father in the eye. His own eyes were shedding tears, as his love for Glorfindel tore him apart. “I do not know…” But then… “Tell me, do you know if he deems me worthy?” The smile Námo gave him made his skin crawl. “Does he?”
“You will find out in time. Now, go and see to the souls’ needs. Do not meddle with Maeglin and Ereinion.” Seeing his son’s shocked expression, he turned around and left the room, leaving Erestor brooding.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Lord Celeborn, I bid you welcome to Imladris.” Elrond, dressed in formal robes, welcomed the ruler of the Golden Wood, but his eyes already drifted off to Celebrían. She was a lovely vision of white, silver and mithril and his heart beat harder, finding her smiling back at him.
Celeborn slid of his stallion’s back and then helped his wife dismount as well. Galadriel smiled at Elrond and her eyes devoured the half-Elf’s form.
Elrond felt uncomfortable beneath her probing, but didn’t let it show. It felt like she was judging him – seeing if he was worthy of her daughter’s hand in marriage. But surely, the Lady of the Golden Wood wouldn’t move that fast?
“This is our daughter, Celebrían,” said Galadriel.
Glorfindel helped Celebrían dismount and gave her a warm smile.
Celebrían returned that smile, but then her eyes returned to rest on the half-Elf. She walked toward Elrond and inclined her head in respect. “I have heard many tales of your bravery, my Lord Elrond, and I am honored to finally make your acquaintance.”
“The honor is mine,” said Elrond, quickly. His pulse raced and he worried he might grow flustered now that their eyes met again, but he managed to control his fierce emotions and bowed respectfully. “I hope you will find your stay in Imladris enjoyable.”
Celebrían sought out her mother’s eyes and nodded once. Galadriel had been right – Elrond was attractive, desirable *and* the perfect match. She would allow the half-Elf to court her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maeglin felt terrified, now that Ereinion had closed the door behind him. It had been millennia since he had last talked to someone – really talked – and the prospect of Ereinion finding out his real identity scared him.
“Sit down near the fire.” Ereinion pulled his chair closer to the fire and seated himself. He raised an arm and gestured for his guest to do the same.
“Let me go.” Maeglin glanced at the door, his nervousness growing. He had tried opening doors when he had first begun walking the Halls, but his hand had passed through the doorknob, and he had been unable to open or close anything. He was trapped in here until Ereinion would set him free again.
“Not before we have talked. Sit down.” Ereinion’s thoughts raced. He had reached a conclusion he couldn’t believe, but it was the only plausible explanation. This Elf had to be Maeglin, the traitor who had condemned Gondolin to her terrible fate. “Please, sit.”
Maeglin complied, realizing he didn’t have a choice. For the first time in millennia he sat down, resting his weary fëa. He had walked without interruptions for millennia and to sit down near the fire was something he had thought he would never do again. “You will get into trouble with Námo because of this.”
“So be it, then.” Ereinion wasn’t impressed. He used the fire’s light to study Maeglin. The face, which must have been handsome in life, was now scarred. Burns had left their marks on the once fair skin. The eyes were dark and haunted and spoke of many emotions. He thought he saw pain there, regrets and longing. The long, dark mane hadn’t escaped the attention of the fire and the scalp showed several bald spots.
Feeling Ereinion’s eyes upon him, Maeglin pulled the hood closer
to his face, trying to hide in its shadows. “Why won’t you let me go?”
Ereinion decided to be honest. “I am drawn close to your pain and suffering. I would like to lessen your burden.”
“You should not even be thinking of doing such a thing! I
deserve my punishment and I accepted that I will suffer for my mistakes for the
rest of my existence! You are not allowed to meddle!”
Maeglin’s feverish tone surprised Ereinion. “Then make me understand! Tell me your history.”
“You do not know what you are asking for! There are horrid things in my past, things, which should never be spoken of! I did my best to bury them, but…” They had haunted him his entire life, driving him into darkness. He withdrew further into his hood and closed his eyes. “You cannot make me voice them.”
“Oh, but I can and I will,” said Ereinion, steadfast. He didn’t know if this was what Námo wanted him to do, but why else would the Vala instigate and allow this? “I will only let you leave *after* you have told me your life’s history. And I want to hear everything. Every little detail. No matter how ashamed you might feel to tell me.”
/He knows!/ Maeglin panicked. Did Ereinion really know his identity? Or did the former High-King only suspect who he was? “I cannot do that. Do not ask that of me.”
“I insist you tell me.” Ereinion didn’t know why this was important, but his instincts told him it was the right path to take. In the corner behind Maeglin a shadow moved and his eyes narrowed, realizing it was Námo standing there. Had Maeglin been right and would he be punished for showing compassion?
But Námo only nodded once and then the Vala’s thoughts came to him. /You made the right decision. Maeglin needs to be confronted with his past. You have permission to proceed./
Any lingering doubts he might have had about the stranger’s identity had been taken away by Námo’s words. This *was* Maeglin, and as far as he could tell, Námo wanted him to do this!
Maeglin, unaware of Námo’s presence, tried to make himself as small as possible in his chair. “Do not make me do this. You have no idea what vile things lie in my past.”
“Then we will uncover them and deal with them.” Ereinion wondered if Maeglin was referring to his betrayal or something else. “You *will* tell me.”
Maeglin shook his head. “You will hate me after learning who and what I am.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” He already knew his guest’s identity, and although he felt on guard, he found that he didn’t hate Maeglin. How could he hate the pitiful specter the once proud Elf-Lord had become?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Imladris is an enchanting place. You chose the location well.” Celebrían walked next to Elrond, who was showing her around the rose gardens. Her first impression of him had encouraged her to seek the half-Elf out again, and her parents had been delighted to find she enjoyed his company.
“Thank you,” said Elrond, blushing to the roots of his hair.
“You are charming as well.” She wanted him to feel comfortable around her and found his blush endearing.
“You must excuse my clumsy manners,” began Elrond, shyly seeking out her eyes. “I do not have much experience courting a she-Elf.” He hoped he hadn’t made things even worse by admitting the truth to her. Celebrían had been here for two weeks and they had begun to spend more time with each other. It had surprised him that it was *she* who sought out his company. Despite his obvious nervousness, she seemed to like him.
She coughed, clearing her throat. “Why don’t we sit down for a moment?” She pointed at an elegantly carved, wooden bench, walked toward it, and seated herself. Elrond, she noticed, sat down at a respectful distance so their bodies didn’t touch – such a pity. “My parents asked me to come to Imladris for a reason. I believe you are aware of that reason.”
“I think I am.” Elrond’s blush deepened. “Your father told me that he hopes we will marry eventually.”
She nodded once. “And what are your thoughts regarding a possible marriage?”
Elrond squirmed. Had she really asked him that? “I am not averse to marrying you.”
Celebrían’s hope blossomed. “And why is that? Merely because our marriage would strengthen the bond between our realms, or is there more?” She hoped there was more!
Nervously, Elrond moistened his lips and wrung his hands, which moved restlessly in his lap. “I… I think there is more… on my part that is.” He still thought Celeborn was pushing too hard, too fast, by constantly inquiring if he had already set a wedding date. But the ruler of the Golden Wood was relentless and Elrond was beginning to feel cornered.
She sighed, relieved. “Elrond, will you look at me?” She gathered his slightly cold and sweaty hands in hers and rubbed them.
Surprised at her action, Elrond looked up and met her glance. She was lovely… truly exquisite and he had lost his heart to her the first time he had laid eyes upon her. In addition to her beauty, she was also kind, friendly, intelligent and good-natured. All these things called out to him. He wouldn’t have agreed to court her, had her character not appealed to him. But she was as lovely on the inside as she was on the outside. “Why did you do that?”
She smiled and brought one of his hands close to his lips. Tremors shook the limb when she pressed her lips against the calloused skin. “We have known each other for two weeks – which is short – but I cannot deny being attracted to you.”
Her words encouraged him and he inched a little closer. “I feel the same way about you, but aren’t we moving too fast? A long courtship is traditional for our people.”
She searched his gray eyes. “When I look into your eyes I
see hope there, amongst many other things. Hope, that you have found love, am I
right?”
“Aye, I am ready to wed and start a family, but only with someone I love at my side.” Entranced, he moved closer to her still, until their lips were only an inch apart. “But…”
“My mother has the gift of foresight, you know that,” said Celebrían. “She told me that you and I are destined to be together. And although I love my mother dearly, I refused to agree to this marriage blindly. I wanted to see you, talk to you and get to know you first, and I think I am beginning to fall in love with you, Elrond.”
Elrond’s heart missed a beat. “You are? For I feel the same way. I want to be close to you. I am attracted to you, but…”
“Is this a sensible thing to do?” She smiled, finishing his question for him. “Elrond, sometimes we must listen to our heart and feelings instead of our head and reason.”
“I…” Lost for words, Elrond raised his right hand and touched her silken hair. “I am afraid to touch you.”
“Why? I desire to be touched by you.” She leaned into the touch when he caressed her hair. “My mother said it was love at first sight for her, when she met my father. I was skeptical, hearing that, as I had never experienced such fierce emotions myself, but that has changed since I met you.”
Elrond was afraid to believe she returned his feelings, but also realized he had to act now, if he wanted them to move forward. “May I formally court you? Do you accept me as your potential husband?”
Her smile was radiant and her eyes sparkled with beginning love. “Aye, I accept you, Elrond Half-Elven.” Leaning in closer, she took the initiative and touched her lips to his in a first, sweet kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maeglin squirmed on his chair. Ereinion’s determination showed in the dark eyes and the setting of the strong jaw. The former High-King wouldn’t allow him to leave until he had told him everything. Could he do that? Disclose the secrets he had kept his entire life? Did he also have to keep those secrets in death?
“Take your time to make up your mind,” said Ereinion. “I am not leaving.”
Maeglin flinched, realizing there was no way out for him. “I will tell you, then.” And he would begin at the beginning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I am so happy for you!” Glorfindel promptly buried Elrond in a spontaneous hug. “I have seen the way she looked at you and there is love in her eyes!” The fact that Celebrían had accepted Elrond as her suitor didn’t surprise him in the least!
Lindir, seated on his favorite spot in Elrond’s study – the windowsill – smiled warmly. “She will make a good wife and a loving mother to your children. You chose well.”
Elrond’s face had turned crimson. Why couldn’t he simply stop blushing? “She agreed to let me court her. We are not married yet.”
“But you will be,” said Galadriel, entering the study. All males rose in welcome and she smiled at all three of them, but her gaze rested the longest on Elrond. “You have my blessing and my husband’s to court our daughter and to wed her. I know Celebrían will be happy here, with you and her children.”
“Children?” Elrond broke free from Glorfindel’s hug and stood in front of the Lady of the Golden Wood. “There *will* be children? Oh! I always wanted to have children!”
“You will be the best father they could hope for and a loving and dedicated husband to my daughter. Do not doubt yourself so much, Elrond Half-Elven.” She smiled at him. “Do not wait too long to propose to her, Elrond.” After uttering those words, she left the room chuckling.
Elrond felt ecstatic. “We will have children! I will be a father!” Unable to remain still, he began to pace his study.
Glorfindel and Lindir exchanged a smile. Galadriel was right – Elrond would make a good husband and father.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elrond announcing his marriage to Celebrían one month later surprised no one. Lindir, Glorfindel and Galadriel had already started preparations for the upcoming wedding and most members of Elrond’s household rejoiced for their Lord at hearing the good news.
The wedding itself took place in the rose garden, beneath the star-lit sky. It was Celeborn who performed the wedding ceremony and bound his daughter’s soul to Elrond’s. That night, the air was alive with magic and happiness, and all Elves joined in the celebrations.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hidden from Elven eyes, a dark-clad Vala studied Glorfindel, who was whirling Lindir around in dance. His eyes had filled with tears of regrets and he wished it was he, who was dancing with Glorfindel. But he shouldn’t be so jealous. Lindir and Glorfindel were friends – nothing more.
Erestor forced his glance away from the dancing Elves and settled on Elrond kissing Celebrían. He saw three children in their future – twin boys and a daughter. And aye, they would be happy, but nothing lasts forever and even their happiness would come to an end.
He walked amongst them, unseen and his soul cried out in need. /I want to be a part of this… I want to be a part of Glorfindel again./
Námo caught his son’s thoughts, but remained hidden from Erestor’s eyes.
/The time has come to send him back to Arda./
Manwë’s voice came as no surprise and Námo nodded. /I will miss him though. His presence in the Halls warms me and brings comfort to the fëar./
/Eru’s will must be done./
/Aye, I understand./
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Suddenly his world darkened and Erestor released a startled yelp. It felt as if his life force was fleeing him and he collapsed onto the earth. His eyes closed, his breathing evened out and his body – which had been nothing but an illusion – took on solid form. Unconsciousness tugged at his mind and Erestor fought it, but in the end, a black wave of sleep overwhelmed him.
Námo bent down and pressed a fatherly kiss on Erestor’s brow. His work here was done, for now. As his form vanished from Imladris, Glorfindel approached that part of the gardens where Erestor was resting. Soundly asleep beneath a weeping willow.
End of part 5
1 meldir (sing.) -- “male” friend (Sindarin, noun) mell + dir
2 Peredhel (sing.) -- half-Elf (Sindarin, noun)
3 fëar (pl.) -- souls (Quenyan, noun)
4 fëa (sing.) -- soul (Quenyan, noun)
From the Council of Elrond Quenyan and Sindarin dictionary