Title: And, Finally
Type: FPS
Author: Keiliss
Email: scrapcat21@yahoo.com
Rating: NC17
Pairings: Elrond/Glorfindel, Erestor/Lindir
Warnings: slash, rimming, angst, nothing new
Beta: Mary
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just play with them
Archive: sure, just let me know
Time line: end of the third age
Summary: Elrond must come to terms with leaving middle earth without
Arwen, as well as with the possible loss of his sons, Glorfindel's
secret fear and Erestor's dilemma
Feedback: yes please, constructive criticism = growth
LJ link: http://www.livejournal.com/users/keiliss/2300.html#cutid


AND, FINALLY

EDORAS

Of all the pleasures of my long life, one of the greatest has always
been the time I have been able to spend in company with my children.
Now my last born, the delight of my heart, my night haired, fearless,
fire spirited daughter has come to me and asked if I could give of my
time to go walking up into the wooded hills above this place with her.
For a moment I was overwhelmed with a sense of utter exhaustion, the
world around me stilled, the light seemed to drain, leaving everything
dull and lifeless, and then I remembered to breathe, to center myself,
to face the words that must still be said between us, and I nodded
agreement.

I thought I had learnt a long time ago to hold my ground and face the
inevitable, but I now understood that the last, precious hours of our
time were speeding past to their final conclusion, and I would have
given all I had to add to their measure, just a little more, just a
little longer.

I realized that what was said between us now would be the final memory
of myself that I would leave with her, and knew that I would have to
choose my words carefully, locking my anger and sorrow and bitter
regret behind high walls while I attempted to give her those things I
had tried to bring to these children of my blood and heart - security,
comfort, and a recognition of their worth to me - one final time.

Unfortunately, choosing my words with care was something I seemed to
have spent a considerable amount of time doing recently towards the
ones who were closest to me, those for whom I cared the most, and I
was starting to tire of picking my way with caution, and of having to
assess every phrase several times before I ever opened my mouth. I am
hardly a stranger to the arts and skills of diplomacy, but rarely
before have I been forced to rely within my personal circle upon this
expertise to such an extent as I have of late.

And now finally, Arwen


MINAS TIRITH

My daughter did not have the honor of being the first of my offspring
to ask recently to share a private conversation with me which I could
be assured of not enjoying - that distinction went, as usual, to her
brothers, my deeply loved but often utterly incomprehensible sons.

I was taking a rare opportunity to sit with my thoughts in the sun,
relaxing with my eyes closed, enjoying the quiet and the lack of
anything calling for my immediate attention for the first time in days
when trouble arrived on two pairs of silent feet. I had no warning of
its approach. I slowly became aware of the fact that the sunlight was
being blocked. I tired easily these days, I was not as alert. Until
very recently I would have been aware of their presence well before
they reached me.

They crouched, one on either side of me, something which they knew I
found annoying.

"What now, old one," asked Elladan, "sleeping in the sun like a
lizard? Has it come to this?"

"Could be he is sleeping off last night's excesses?" Elrohir. "I
personally thought he was getting a little too venerable to indulge so
deeply - I swear he was trying to match Erestor, cup for cup."

"Never a good idea," agreed his brother.

"Do you two actually want something from me," I growled, "or have you
simply run out of victims to torment?"

My children, familiars of the wild places of the north, had seen what
Minas Tirith had to offer and were bored beyond measure. They had no
responsibilities to keep them occupied, they knew no one save for a
few Rangers, their sister, their foster brother and Thranduil's son,
and as the new queen's visiting brothers it was required that they be
courteous, well presented and completely idle. As these two had known
no idle moment in their lives since they first began to crawl they
found their current situation to be something close to torture. They
had taken to sharing their misery.

"We thought you might care to stretch your ancient limbs sufficiently
to come walk with us," Elladan explained. "Much better for you than
lying around like this."

"You risk growing as fat as a mortal," Elrohir agreed.

"Walk where?" I asked, sensing a purpose behind the suggestion.

"Just walk." Elladan, the literal and less imaginative one, the
so-called sensible one smiled blandly at me. "Have a look at the city,
get a little exercise."

"We haven't had a chance to talk for such a long time," added Elrohir,
his impulsive, unpredictable, disaster-prone other half in a casual voice.

These descriptions were how they were widely perceived, and mostly it
was true enough, though under pressure Elladan had a tendency to be
the less self assured, the more vulnerable, while Elrohir, who always
gave the impression of light mindedness, would keep his given word
with his life if need be.

They stood and looked down at me hopefully, almost mirror images, with
my long, dark hair which they currently wore loose and my father's
light gray eyes - the only thing of him that I now recalled clearly,
it was all so very long ago - tall, strongly built, light footed,
Celebrian's boys by birth alone, owning almost nothing of her look or
nature as though their sojourn within her body had left them, somehow,
untouched. These were plainly the children of my line, heir to all the
ills and excesses that were one with its history.

And they wanted me to go for a walk with them, spend some time
together. Perfectly innocuous, save that I knew my sons far to well.
There was another motive, something they regarded as important and
this request was their way of signaling this to me.

I cannot now remember when it first began, this habit that grew
between myself and my children to walk as we shared those matters that
are best dealt with privately within families, but, since my sons had
been old enough to keep pace this is what we had done.

It began at my insistence, a way of creating a shared space within
which I could express concerns about behavior unbecoming not only to
elven princes - which in all but name they were - but to most young
that went on two legs, and to address the hurts and confusions of
childhood as best I could, even though my own childhood had been such
as to offer me no ready reference to the healing of the heart-hurts of
the young.

Knowing myself lacking, I think I might have put more thought into
parenting than those who, coming from backgrounds of love and
security, might have felt to be strictly necessary. I know Celebrian,
who had never experienced a moment without love in her life, was more
than a little amused by my approach to fatherhood, though she assured
me that she also found it endearing.

My greatest desire for my children was that they should feel safe and
loved and unconditionally accepted, things of which my childhood had
lacked, things which I was determined my own would hold as a
birthright. With this in mind, I not only offered them guidance but
also encouragement to express themselves freely. Not only towards me
but also in their actions and interests, a freedom never afforded me,
raised as I was within the confines of a strict Noldorin code of
conduct. A code which, to this day, I have still to consciously
distance myself from, so deeply has it been ingrained in me by those
who had the care of myself and my brother after the loss of our
parents.

Well, discipline and duty and the correct appearance of things no
doubt have their place, but I remembered my mother, that fiercely
defiant free spirit, and knew there was so very much more to life.

And so we walked, and we talked. Sometimes all three of them together,
sometimes just one alone. We talked of manners, deportment,
responsibility, those things that make up the conduct which is
becoming to the descendents of kings, we talked of night fears, of the
small, bitter sorrows of youth, of love and life and death.

We shared anger, and rebellion and bitter hurts, and a few confidences
that were so private as to refuse eye contact. And sometimes there
were long walks that were simply for the pleasure of one another's
company, times of laughter and quiet togetherness. I shared with them
my past, or at least as much of it as could be deemed suitable, and
they in turn offered me their dreams for their futures, little knowing
at the time how the turn of the age would rewrite those dreams for us all.

Having no places of habit to visit in this city of Men, we spent some
time simply wandering the environs of the palace itself, commenting on
the architecture - solid and ornate - the people, their manner and
their mode of dress, things which would now form the backdrop to their
sister's future. Finally we sought a quiet corner up on the wall and
stood, leaning against the weathered stone, looking out over the view
in companionable silence. I played the game I had always played with
myself, that of trying to guess which one of them would broach the
true reason we were here.

When Elladan stirred to speak after they had spent some time
alternating their attention between surveying the view and watching me
from the sides of their eyes, I had to hide my smile.

"Adar, we were talking, and we fell to wondering," he began, turning
back to the safety of the view. "We know our choice to either stay
here or to sail into the West is bound up with your leaving, but what
we never thought to ask is how long we can remain here after you go?"

I drew in a deep breath, released it and closed my eyes briefly. So
now it came. "How long would you want to be staying? I asked,
carefully. "Six months, a year?"

They were quiet for a moment, communicating wordlessly in that way
that was wholly their own. Forever? I bit down on the word hard, and
found my senses fully concentrated. They were both looking deeply
uncomfortable.

"We aren't sure," Elladan answered. "We will be needed here for a
while to manage things, to make sure that those who do not take ship
immediately have assistance from Imladris, to make certain there is
someone to keep the road safe for them-"

"The House started as a haven," his brother broke in, "It would revert
to that status, a haven for those still not quite yet ready to cut the
ties. I know it has been spoken of," he added, "I heard Erestor and
Glorfindel talking."

I rested my chin on my hand, watching a convoy of horse drawn carts
crossing the plain before us, so recently a battlefield. "That is
true," I agreed. "However, your grandfather has already agreed to move
there some time after the Lady, your grandmother, leaves. Did you hear
that too?"

They shook their heads. Elrohir turned and put a hand on my arm.
Everyone always thinks Elladan is the one most like me in his ways,
steady, sensible, practical, but that was the persona life had forced
upon me, my place of refuge. When young I had been very much like my
second born - complex, responding to instinct. I knew what he was
about to say, and covered his hand with mine, as much for his comfort
as my own.

"Ada, we don't really know what we want to do," he told me, watching
my face gravely. "You say we have to decide whether we want to be
numbered with the firstborn and go home with you or amongst the
secondborn and stay here with Wen. Those are the only two choices,
aren't they?"

I nodded. "If there is a third choice open to us I have certainly
never heard it and could hardly imagine what it could be," I said,
trying to keep my tone light and even. I realized that impeccable
balance was required from me here. I was already losing one child, I
had no intention of leaving all three behind if I could help it. "Why
would you be needing a third choice, penneth, or even a second one?" I
asked, catching and holding his glance, not allowing him to look away.
To his credit he stayed steady under my eyes. I could feel his
brother's unease to my right.

"You say 'go home,'" he said at last. "It isn't our home, Ada, this
is. We were born here, this is where we belong, not in some place
which is no more real than a child's story to us."

With the fear and determination that only another parent could begin
to appreciate to spur me on I forced myself to stay utterly calm.
Ranting and raving would be the worst choice here. I reached out
instead for the tools of diplomacy, reasoned words, a steady voice,
and whatever duplicity the situation might call for.

"We have been thinking," Elladan came, as ever, to his twin's rescue.
"We have known more mortals than many elves could claim, but we have
never lived amongst them. How could we even begin to make a decision
about something of which we have no experience?"

Something of my horror must have been showing, despite my best
efforts. Elrohir tightened his grip on my arm, tried his very best to
look reassuring. "Not that we are saying that we wouldn't follow you
at the last." he offered. "Just, not right away."

"How long do we have till we have to decide?" Elladan, always the
practical. Well, this would have no sweetener to it.

"Before I leave, which will be within a year, I would guess, you will
have to have made your choice." I told them. They both stirred,
started to protest, and I held up a hand as I have always done, since
they were very young, to silence them ."The grace which offers you the
choice is bound to the fact that you are my sons, it is offered to no
other who have claim to a portion of elven blood, only our line. You
must make your determination before I leave and you will then be tied
to it."

They were staring at one another now, no longer at me. Others found
this habit of shutting out the world, focusing exclusively on each
another uncomfortable, but I simply gave them the time they required
and waited. I had been one of a twin. I remembered how it could be to
speak with no need for words, to perceive whole sentences from a
glance, from the quirk of a brow..

"The choice," I added, "is irreversible. Should you chose mortality
and then at the end reconsider it will be to no avail. You will be
unable to leave. Should you choose immortality and wish to remain," I
continued, a little grimly, "you will be left to walk alone together
down through time, with no other like companions, watching everything
around you grow, flourish and die in the short turning of men's
seasons. ." I watched the activity on the plain again for a few
minutes. "Of the two," I confessed, "I think being trapped here for
all eternity may easily be the worse."

"But Valinor is not 'home' Ada." Elrohir said softly, his eyes, too,
following the horses.. "There is nothing for us there."

I looked at them, my beautiful, wonderful, deeply frustrating sons.
They were nothing like my dreams would have made them, they were a
product of their own design, not mine, roaming life with no certain
space within it for themselves, dependant solely on one another,
princes without a kingdom, born too late into one of the last enclaves
in a world from which our kind had withdrawn in vast numbers. They had
no conception of what it was like to be part of a grand whole. They
could no more imagine life in a true elven kingdom than a fish can
picture a mountaintop. I loved them so much it hurt my heart.

I got to work. "Rohir, has it never occurred to you that I, too, was
born here, that to me, as well, Valinor is but a word? For all the
tales Glorfindel can tell me, it is still no more than a story, an
elflings fable for me. Our family has been here for generations now. I
had neither parent nor grandparent with memories of a western home.
You have the advantage of me there at least, you have heard your
grandmother reminisce. I share your discomfort, but none the less it
is our home, and the heartland of our kind. As for there being nothing
waiting there for you," I paused to get their attention. "I hardly
think your mother can be described as 'nothing'."

Two pairs of clear gray eyes looked at me uncertainly. "Yes but Nana
would understand" Elladan.

"No, Dan," I said, sounding almost as tired as I felt." I am not
convinced that your mother would understand how it could be that of
the three children left in my care at her departure I would be unable
to bring even one safely over the sea to her. It is enough that I have
to explain the loss of her daughter to her." This was all of course
deeply underhand but I could not find it in myself to care very much.
I pressed on "The other, and more positive thing that I think you
should consider," I said, "is the fact that this could be your next
great adventure"

"Adventure?" They seldom spoke together anymore as they had when very
young, not unless startled.

"Aye, adventure." I said cheerfully. "A new land, new people, new
activities, interests, friends. A million things to do and learn. And
probably new difficulties too - throughout our history the one
constant seems to have been that elves don't live any great length of
time without problems of some kind." I smiled and reached out my arms,
one around each shoulder. They were slightly taller than I, something
I was usually unaware of. "Just promise me you will make no rash
decisions and that you will discuss it all thoroughly between
yourselves and with me first" I requested.

They returned the hug, for all the world as though they were still
elflings. Keeping their indecision to themselves had weighed heavily
upon them I think.

"We will speak with you first before we make a final choice, I
promise" Elladan said to me.

Elrohir punched at him gently, they are always gentle with one
another, soft touches, tender, thoughtful care." I told you weeks ago
we should go talk to Ada," he said smugly.

If anything persuades them it will be the suggestion of adventure,
something to be looked forward to and savored. My boys have always
loved excitement. "Beren's blood!" a sardonic voice seemed to whisper
in my ear. "And you played to it"

Two things could be said of our forefather - firstly that he too had
loved adventure. Secondly, that he did not appear to have been very
bright. I hoped against hope that they resembled him sufficiently for
it to be enough.

"There is one final thing," I said to them as we prepared to return
back the way we had come. "If one of you should be drawn to choose
mortality and should the other be uncertain of this choice, then you
will both number yourselves amongst the firstborn and sail west." I
shook them gently to make my point and then drew them to me once more,
briefly. "You can decide many things for one another," I told them,
"but you have no right to determine death for anyone other than
yourself. That is something which I utterly forbid. I did not raise
kinslayers, and such a thing would stand on equal footing with murder."



```````````````

After taking leave of my sons, I walked away lost in thought, and
managed to walk straight into Glorfindel. He held me at arms length
looking at me and with a wisdom born of long experience asked, "What
assault have those two launched on your peace of mind this time?"

I sighed deeply and rested my forehead against his shoulder for a
moment. "Glori, tell me, honestly, where did I go wrong with my
children? I really tried to be a good parent you know." I was half
laughing, half serious.

He tugged one of my braids gently. "You are a wonderful father," he
said firmly. "You are really much too hard on yourself sometimes. You
can only do so much, and then the rest is up to them." He grinned at
me. "Anyway they could be worse. Their hearts are in the right place,
they're honest and brave to a fault, they're just not too good at
making big decisions, am I not right?"

I raised my brows and then shrugged and, against my will, found myself
smiling back at him. Glorfindel's smile is very hard to resist. "This
is one thing they do not have forever to think about," I pointed out.
"By the time I sail they are going to need to have decided whether
they will follow me or no. They can't wait a hundred years and then
say .."

He smiled at me again and shook his head gently. "They know that
Elrond," he told me. "Let it be. I'll speak to them if you wish but
really I think they'll be all right. The more you pursue them on this..."

"I know, I know," I said irritably. "It's just so hard to stand back
and watch them flail around like this."

He threw back his head and laughed, genuinely amused. I scowled at
him, trying to feel annoyed but to me Glorfindel laughing, is one of
the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Anger, as always, fled.

He is of a height with me although slightly broader across the
shoulders, long muscled, steely strong and solid. His hair is the
exact color of late afternoon sunlight, he usually wears it in an
intricately braided antique style which he favors. He has eyes the
clear blue of a summer sky under winged brows, his mouth ... his
mouth is a dream made reality. He moves like a big, prowling cat, he
is softly spoken with a clear, even voice.

I have heard from some who survived Gondolin and knew him before, that
in his first life he had been a straightforward, easy going kind of
elf, not overly fond of intellectual pursuits, good natured and not
given overmuch to introspection.

The Glorfindel I know certainly carries echoes of that past though he
is also slow now to anger, save in battle, and has returned from the
Halls of Waiting with a quiet patience, a respect for life and a need,
almost a compulsion, to find the good in all things, and to savor each
moment. He has a cheerful, playful side to him, regularly drawing me
out of myself and away from my natural tendency to brood. As Erestor
has said on more than one occasion, he really is good for me.

He stopped laughing and gave me a considering look.

"You need to relax more," he said firmly.

I smiled and sighed, "You are probably right, my dear," I agreed, "but
there is just so much to do, and my children do not make it any
easier...Arwen -"

He stopped me with a finger to my lips. "No good can come from
upsetting yourself over something already done and impossible to
undo," he told me. He paused frowning slightly, then asked, "Busy
though you are, could you perhaps spare a little time to me? It won't
take long."

I took a breath, released it slowly. If I had no time for the one who
would always put my needs before his own it would be a sad thing
indeed. "It will need to be brief," I insisted. "I had forgotten I
had to meet with Erestor at this time. I imagine he's already waiting
for me. What do you need?"

He touched my arm. "Follow me"

He led me through the maze of corridors that was the White Tower with
an unerring sense of direction, bringing us finally to the room,
barely used, which had been set aside for him. "In here," he said.
Something in the clipped, almost commanding tone caught my attention
but before I had time to make the connection we were inside, he had
closed the door and I had been pushed almost roughly up against the wall.

"You," he said firmly in the same no-nonsense tone, "are too tense."
His mouth came down over mine, claiming me in a hard kiss, his tongue
forcing its way between my teeth determinedly. He held me in place
with one hand on my chest and the other cupped under my jaw.

I managed to shake my head free. "Glori I don't have time.."

"So you told me," he agreed amiably, taking me by the arm and half
dragging me across the room to the window. "Even so, you still need to
relax." He turned me to face the window, his hands on my shoulders. I
was off balance both mentally and physically and unthinkingly reached
forward to steady myself.

"There you are," he said in a pleased voice as he caught my hands,
placed them on the window sill and gave me a little 'stay there'
shake. "Now you just look out the window, enjoy the pretty view such
as it is, while I," his hands were busy under my robe unfastening and
drawing down my leggings and loincloth with an economy of movement
that was, frankly, a little overwhelming, "while I address myself to
all this tension you carry within you."

My leggings were round my ankles, my robe was tucked up at the back to
my waist. For a moment nothing happened at all. I stood feeling the
strangeness of cool air against bare skin, the rough stone of the
windowsill beneath my fingers. I could hear faintly the noises of
daily life coming from outside, contrasting to the utter stillness of
the room and then I almost struck my head on the window frame as he
entered me with his tongue.

He drew back briefly as I bucked and then twisted against the hands
now firm on my thighs, to warn me with a chuckle. "Careful my love,
you don't want to draw attention to yourself do you? I know we're on
the third floor but you can't be too careful, can you ? Think of the
scandal." before nipping my buttock sharply and then plunging back in.

The next few minutes involved him thrusting and twisting his tongue
within me while spreading me as wide open as he could with his fingers
and me gasping such useful phrases as, "You have to stop this, we have
no time for this!" while pressing back against him in obvious
opposition to my words. He finally settled matters by the simple
expedient of inserting at least one finger (I was in no state to
count) to join his tongue.

I flinched as he forced the finger past the ring of muscle, moving
infinitely slowly, letting me experience every moment of his progress
within me, feeling the burning pain, the sensation of alienness and
stretching while the anticipation for what was about to happen banked
heat in the pit of my stomach balancing the pain. He withdrew swiftly
on a flash of fire, flicked his tongue over my opening then
penetrated me again, tongue and ...more fingers than last time. Once
again the burning, the discomfort as he moved them within me twisting
and flexing. Then he turned his hand sharply, knowing me, knowing
where to aim and found my prostate and thrust hard enough to make me
yelp, clench my fists, and jerk back into him.

He knelt, thrusting his fingers in and out, the movement now smoother
and slicker, striking my prostate squarely each time, his tongue
working in and out, occasionally withdrawing to lick long, wet strokes
up and down my cleft, before returning. My muscles knotted, my world
had shrunk to his fingers and his tongue and to the aching, throbbing
hardness that was my cock. Finally, when I had been reduced to making
a kind of continuous whimpering sound, he turned me to face him, his
fingers still deep within me and moved me away from the window.

He grabbed the draping cloth of my robe, bunched it up and hissed at
me, "Hold this up!" and as I did so, inarticulate and gasping he took
the head of my cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it,
sucking so hard it was almost unbearable, grating his teeth back and
forth over the ring sending lightning streaking through me and then
finally sucking me in deeply. causing me to cry out and grab at his
head with one hand, pulling him in closer. He sucked me in and out,
releasing me almost completely each time before drawing me back deep
into his relaxed throat, scraping his teeth along the underside each
time. Eventually. an eternity later he released me and rested his
cheek against my hip, his warm breath one more sensation as his free
hand began squeezing then stroking me.

For the next couple of minutes he had to do nothing as I thrust
forward into his fist, backward into those glorious, probing fingers,
my eyes half shut, the pace my body had found driving me closer and
closer to the fire etched edge, while he knelt and watched me.
Sensations beyond description pulsed through me. There was nothing and
no one else in the world - my skin tingled, my nipples were so taut
they ached. Finally over the sound of my heartbeat and my ragged
breathing I heard him say, "Come for me now my sweet one!" and then he
swallowing me back into the velvet heat of his mouth while increasing
the force and rhythm of his thrusting fingers.

I came within moments, making a high pitched, keening noise that
should have been embarrassing but wasn't, shooting my seed into his
throat with an intensity that made the room around me go black. I
think I would have fallen had he not been supporting me.

He withdrew his fingers slowly and held my cock lightly while he
slowly licked it completely clean. He then proceeded to arrange my
clothing, fastening my leggings and smoothing down my robe with tender
hands whilst I stood, dazed and breathless, holding onto his shoulder.

Eventually I came back to myself sufficiently to realize I had
overlooked something important and tried to draw him to me saying,
"No wait, what about you ? Let me..." but he brushed away my reaching
hands with a smile and, instead drew me into his arms, holding me
lightly but securely. I leaned against him, loving his strength and
the way it always made me feel protected and secure, a circle of
safety in an often hostile world

"That," he said tenderly, his cheek against mine, "was purely for you.
You can give me my reward another time when you are less busy should
you so wish. Or not. This was something I wanted to give you to help
ease your day.. I expect nothing in return. I never do."

Something about the way he said this made me draw back to search his
eyes, eyes that were just a little too guarded, a little too
expressionless.

"Glori, is something wrong ?" I asked.

He shook his head, smiling gently. "What could possibly be wrong?" he
asked. "I love to pleasure you, there is nothing I would rather do.
There isn't time for more play now but I knew there wouldn't be. I am
content so long as you no longer have that tight look around your eyes
and mouth," and he placed kisses in the appropriate places as he spoke.

He cupped my face in his hands and rested his forehead against mine.
"I love you, keeper of my soul," he said gravely, "you do not have to
earn it, it is yours forever, no matter what may come to pass."

A shadow moved behind his eyes for a moment as he spoke, and then it
was gone, but not quickly enough to fool me. Glorfindel is a
passionate, imaginative lover, but stolen moments in the middle of a
busy day are not a habit of his. This kind of thing harked back to
another time in my life, another love, and a very different set of
circumstances.

As I puzzled on this he was putting the last touches to my appearance,
and then shaking me gently, telling me to hurry up, not keep Erestor,
whose temper for some reason had been an alarmingly uncertain thing
of late waiting, and so I left, but not before promising myself that I
would make it my business to discover what it was that could cause
Glorfindel to act in a manner which, although more than welcome on my
part, was so totally at odds with everything that the last few hundred
years had taught me to expect from him

tbc

MINAS TIRITH

The following day, I found that, unexpectedly, I had nothing requiring
my attention until mid afternoon.

I suspected either Glori or Erestor, if not both, were responsible for
this, my second morning completely empty of responsibilities and
gratefully chose to spend the time exploring the confines of the
palace precinct. However my pleasure at this unexpected freedom was
quickly dampened by the lack of anyone with whom to share it.

I swiftly discovered that my sons were assiduously avoiding me, my
daughter was involved in getting to know some of the ladies who would
be making up her court, my lover was engaged in discussions with the
Lorien contingent concerning joint security concerns and my foster son
was being inducted into the horrors peculiar to the administration of
a large realm by his new chamberlain.

My own company having a strong tendency towards gloom at this time, I
began to look around me, seeking a distraction.

I found it sitting in one of the inner garden courtyards, equally
alone and looking decidedly out of sorts, a condition unusual enough
to immediately claim my attention.

As a rule Lindir is a friendly outgoing young elf, with a quick wit
and a ready smile, but not this day. Of course, the stay in Gondor
could hardly have been the highlight of his life - there had been
little enough to occupy him, save for a brief handful of performances,
as the palace staff had displayed a quite natural wish to show their
newly crowned king and queen what Gondor had to offer in the way of
home grown talent.

I imagined his fellow visiting musicians would have been enjoying
whatever entertainments the city had to offer, an occupation which,
regardless of the temptation, he would probably have felt bound to
decline.

In my personal experience, one of the main disadvantages to a
so-called 'discreet' relationship has to be the need to conduct
oneself as part of a couple while at the same time presenting an
unencumbered face to the rest of the world. It led to some difficult
compromises.

Added incentive in Lindir's case was probably afforded by the fact
that the other party involved in this 'discreet relationship' had been
displaying a dizzying shortness of temper and would quite possibly not
have shown himself overly indulgent towards youthful adventures
amongst the bright lights of a city currently celebrating an
overwhelming and conclusive victory.

Lindir started to rise at the sight of me and I dismissed the courtesy
with a shake of my head, seating myself down beside him on the bench.
For a few minutes we sat in silence and watched the small fountain
before us, an object of white marble boasting a boy with a fish which
was spouting water in a somewhat weary dribble.

There were a few water plants in the small pond, and a couple of
large, lethargic- looking yellow fish. For the rest, we were in a
small space of short green grass, a few undistinguished ornamental
bushes, and not much else of note. We were surrounded on all four
sides by the heavy, manlike architecture of the palace itself.

"Oppressive, isn't it?" I observed at last, taking in our surrounding
with a gesture.

He blew out a slow breath and leaned back on the bench slightly. "It
looks a bit like he's trying to put the fish out of its misery by
strangling it, my lord." he offered somewhat sourly.

We continued to survey the fountain together, quietly enjoying the
sensation of misery in company, the absolute lack of any pressure to
attempt to appear cheerful.

"How have you been passing your time since our arrival here, Lindir?"
I ventured at last. "I imagine you to have been somewhat less than
overworked."

Elves are a good deal more given to music than the men of Gondor, who
tend to restrict themselves to a few short performances both during
and after supper, being of a mind and nature to seek their beds far
earlier than we are. In any elven realm there would have been song and
celebration all through the night with energy to spare to greet the dawn.

He favored me with a half smile. "I have been busier, my lord." he
agreed. "Not, that I mind that much of course." he added quickly,
"It`s been wonderful to actually see the White City with my own eyes,
and it's been interesting to explore, so long as one does not attempt
to do so alone, of course."

At my upraised brow he volunteered, "They are unused to elves here, my
lord, and none of us feels completely comfortable wandering the
streets alone."

This was something that would never have occurred to me but of course
it made perfect sense. It was almost the length of an age since elves
had walked Minas Tirith in any number, in fact...

"In the time of the Last Alliance it was even so." I told him, "Men
had long kept to themselves as had elven kind, it was actually a
miracle that the various armies managed to remain combined almost up
until the end."

Almost.

I remembered old, painful anger at Oropher, at Isildur. If just a few
things had been better managed, a few tempers kept in check towards
the end, it might all have finished differently.

"Erestor told me much the same, about the armies of the Last
Alliance." he confided in a far more animated voice, his face suddenly
coming to life, the light green eyes sparkling with mischief. "His
words were that if King Oropher had not been a twice cursed idiot with
an ego the size of Gondor we might have suffered only half our losses."

So spoke the child of Mirkwood, Oropher's former realm. I cleared my
throat. "I would have hesitated to be so blunt or so lacking in
diplomacy," I began, then met his eyes and found myself grinning at
him, much to my own surprise "but he was quite right about that. If he
hadn't actually had the good sense to die there, I think I might have
sought him out and killed him myself after."

We laughed together. He had a nice laugh. It was warm, infectious and
inclusive and drew listeners in despite themselves. I noticed him
watching me from the corner of his eye as though assessing something.
I raised my brow, inclined my head slightly to him.

"It would be too forward of me, my Lord." he said, with a little shake
of his head.

"Let me judge," I suggested. "If it is I will keep in mind that I
insisted you share your thoughts."

He wrinkled his forehead and then turned to face me, looking very
young. "My Lord, I was just wondering what it must be like for you.
This was a wonderful, unlooked for victory, of course, but it must
have brought back so many painful memories for you. I just thought how
many regrets there must be mixed in the joy for you, and how few elves
must be left here for you to share those memories with."

No one had asked me this. Not even Glorfindel, usually so well tuned
to my moods. No one had thought how my mind had moved back and forth,
then and now, down the final months. Before I had been in the front
line, armored, my forces arrayed around me, now my sons and fosterling
had ridden to a horror I could only too clearly imagine. I think that
many forget I was not always a sedentary law master.

Unbelievably, I had said the words aloud. There was no hesitation in
Lindir though, he nodded at once.

"My lord, you carry yourself with such dignity, there is always such a
sense of calm around you." he said softly. "People forget, I suppose,
that in the final stages of the battle for Barad-dur, you were one of
the few frontline fighters who were still left standing, and that you
were one of the handful still fighting alongside the king and prepared
to confront the Dark Lord himself."

I tilted my head to the side and studied him, He was small, pretty and
very slight, with pale green eyes and a mass of permanently unruly
silver gilt hair. And he was young, so incredibly young that even a
mortal would have been aware of the fact. His gaze was earnest and
steady though. Not so young in experience perhaps.

"You remembered it though. How is that?" I asked.

He arched his brows and looked amused. "My Lord, I am a musician. They
have made more songs about that day than I will ever find the time to
learn. I would hope I would know the tale of Earendil's son, the
Herald of the High King." He quirked his face charmingly. "Anyway,
when I asked Erestor, he told me all about it." he finished.

I contemplated the idea of Erestor as talkative and confiding,
recounting tales of battles past, and found my imagination to be
wanting. He preferred to avoid reliving those times, even with fellow
veterans. That he had felt comfortable talking to this elfling
explained a few things to me about what was one of Imladris' more
intriguing topics of discussion in certain circles.

My Chief Councilor's liaison with my favorite musician was often the
stuff of intense speculation and considerable humour. I, like most
others who were aware of it, acknowledged Erestor's right to risk
making a fool of himself with an utterly unsuitable partner and
carefully looked the other way. We are immortal. We have more than
enough time for everyone to make at least a few errors in judgment.
However what I had just heard hinted at an unexpected dept to the
relationship.

"What exactly did he tell you?" I asked, intrigued, if not downright
curious.

I was surprised to see the notorious little gossip hesitate, then he
shrugged slightly and said

"It was about you, after all, so I'm not actually betraying a
confidence am I? He told me that you had been one of the greatest
warriors in the army of the firstborn, he described you to me as
having the look of something out of a tale of the first age, with your
hair in warrior braids, a sword in your hand and the death light in
your eyes..."

He looked up at me with mischief in his green eyes. "He waxed quite
poetic about you my Lord," he chuckled. "I was tempted to put it to
music, but he would have been so furious I decided perhaps not."

"I'm surprised he even noticed me," I told him, slightly embarrassed
at the turn of the conversation. " I think 'warrior braids, sword
wielding and the eyes of death' sounds a fair description of Erestor
himself back then."

He leaned forward, eyes now shining with pleasure, forgetting his
station and mine, reminding me somewhat of Estel as a child, begging a
tale from me.

"Of course. You knew him then." he breathed, thrilled. "Oh please, my
Lord. He will never tell me anything about himself in those days.
Please, what was he like? I know he was one of the High King's
councilors, and that he bore arms, but nothing more than that."

I tilted his chin with my thumb and raised his face to mine, seeing
startlement flood into his eyes at my unexpected action.

"You love him, don't you child?" I asked him softly.

"It's all right," I added reassuringly, "I have known you two were
together for some time now. I just had no idea it was such a serious
matter. Erestor, as I'm sure you know, would have all his teeth pulled
before discussing his private life."

He met my eyes, totally serious." I love him more than my life, my
Lord." He paused, frowning, then raced on. "I know those are just
words and over used at that, but I mean them. There is nothing and no
one like him, and that he could choose to be with me..." he gave his
head a quick shake and was silent for a moment, contemplating this
enormity.

"I keep waiting for something to go wrong," he confided "but no matter
how young or ignorant I appear, it doesn't seem to bother him."

He smiled charmingly. "When I get upset about my ignorance on a
subject he always takes time to explain it to me. Otherwise, he just
seems to take me as I am. I think he finds me amusing. I do try to be
a better person for his sake so I won't embarrass him by my actions."
he added softly. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for him."

I nodded and put my hand lightly on his shoulder and told him I was
glad of it, meaning it sincerely. I then settled to tell him of the
Erestor he would almost certainly never know, the spirit of Death to
the enemies of his kindred, dark lightning with a long knife in either
hand.

-------------

The main part of my time in Gondor was being taken up with discussions
with my foster son Estel. Fortunately I would not be here long enough
to have to get used to calling him Elessar, a name which felt foreign
to my tongue. He was now the husband of my daughter and could expect
civility from me on her account and who seemed to believe that winning
a war was all it would take to earn my forgiveness, blessing and
continued love despite the fact that he was the sole reason for my
daughter's decision to defy me and remain in Middle Earth to age and
eventually die.

While I marveled at this rather simplistic approach, I chose not to
disillusion him. It was far easier to nod and smile and remind myself
behind gritted teeth that I would soon be gone from this place forever
along the Straight Road to live in the West until the breaking of the
world, while he would enjoy the extended though still mortal span of
years granted him and then be dust on the wind. It was petty and
juvenile, but in those first, difficult days it stilled my tongue.

As had been his habit when yet a boy growing up in my house under my
care, he sought me out for advice, or to share his plans and ideas, or
for him to tap the well of my experience on a multitude of topics, or
sometimes just to talk. I gave him of the best that I had to offer,
and did it with courtesy and, I hoped, grace. He was a king now after
all, no longer just the little mortal fosterling of whom my sons were
so fond, and who, when young, had called me 'Ada' and been desolate
upon discovering that he was neither an elf nor my son. I think at the
time this sadness had hurt my heart almost as much as his own.

I could still remember sitting with a sobbing, confused child on my
lap, offering what comfort I could for the first of life's great sorrows:

"Hush small one, heart's child. There are ties other than blood. You
will always be my son in all the ways that matter, you will always
have my love."

An uncomfortable memory at this point in our lives.

Angry and unforgiving though I was feeling, I found myself remembering
past times spent likewise in one another's company. He had spent a lot
of his growing time with my sons and they, being fond of him, had
shown some application in teaching him their fighting skills as well
as offering him some training in some of their more unfortunate
talents, like developing a head for strong ale, but I was the one who
had gifted him with his first horse, and I had personally taught him
to ride.

He learnt to swim from me as well. We were so close to the river it
was unthinkable to raise a small child and not teach him how to swim.
So one long, hot summer I had found it a wonderful escape to steal
away from my office, collect a delighted young boy child and head
down to one of the safe shallow areas of the Bruinen, there to shed
clothing and enjoy the fresh coolness of the water, while searching
for plants and interesting stones and water life.

He had been a sweet natured child, though a little too serious at
times, but who could have blamed him, fatherless as he was and with a
mother who kept mainly to her rooms and withdrew from contact with
those around her a little more every year. Unlike her, however he
showed himself early to have a keen sense of humour and he was an
obedient, affectionate child, with an enquiring mind and a deep love
for songs and tales of times past.

I used to tell him stories at bedtime when he was small. I would
complain loudly about this chore but secretly it was a pleasure to me
to have this young life in my care, and I loved that shared time,
seated in the half dark next to his bed, telling him of dragons and
warriors, the great battles and adventures of a past age, some from
personal experience.

Later, as he grew older, this slowly became the time after dinner
during which we would perhaps discuss points of history and lore,
literature and poetry and always something containing a tale of sorts.

I found as the weeks of my stay in Minas Tirith passed, first for the
wedding and then as support for my daughter in her early days as queen
and as a source of advice to the very new king that it became more and
more difficult to remain angry with him and to maintain the distance I
assured myself I would prefer.

It was nearly impossible to set aside the past as nothing and to hate
this man that the child had become, the child I had loved with a depth
unwise when dealing with a mortal, a creature of few years, with their
brief claim to life.

I had pushed him far harder than either one of the sons of my blood,
demanding of him a degree of excellence I had never required from
them. I would be the first to admit that, had I done so, they might
have been the better for it, but where they were concerned I had not
been attempting to raise a possible future king,

Attempting and succeeding.

He may have taken my daughter from me and torn my heart and left me
with a sorrow that would last as long as time, but in all other things
he had conducted himself with excellence. He had displayed for all the
world to see qualities of application and intelligence, determination,
compassion and an unbending will.

He had made me very proud.

I found myself forced to admit that Arwen's taste, unlike her common
sense, was impeccable.

`````````````````````

Someone less likely than Erestor to come seeking support and comfort
from me on a personal matter was hard to imagine. He walked his road
alone when it came to such things, being far more likely to discuss
the resolution than the initial problem. When queried he would always
tell me that he was the councilor and I the lord, and his job was to
advise me, not the reverse.

I always had a sneaking suspicion that, having known me too long and
too well, he simply lacked faith in my judgment on such matters.

I have known him ever since my brother and I were taken to Lindon to
live under the care of the High King. I was very young but no stranger
to trauma and deeply distrustful of the world and everyone in it. I
had also recently perceived that Elros and I were curiosities, objects
of interest and speculation, the representatives of a famous - or,
more correctly, infamous - family that had provided Elvenkind with a
vast body of tales and song springing from a long catalogue of scandal
and that we were being watched eagerly to see if our mixed blood and
varied family connections would inspire us to add to this history.

In the murky, complicated world of Lindon court politics, one of the
few areas of stability that I found was in Erestor, then a junior
councilor who already had the respect of my cousin the King. I heard
him to be a terror on the battle field, which was where they had met,
a fighter of renown, a more than fair strategist with not an ounce of
fear in his slender body.

I was young. I looked him up and down, and having been raised around
men who without exception had the look of warriors about them decided
that the stories must have been greatly exaggerated.

He was a slender, graceful creature, small for an elf, with creamy
skin, shining hair, so black that mine appeared dull brown beside it,
slanting amber eyes, somewhat similar in shade to dwarf brandy, of
which he could drink copious amounts to no discernable effect. He had
a low voice and a fine line in common sense, usually delivered with
more than a taste of acid.

He dressed plainly, favoring neutral colors, listened more than he
spoke, and walked with a sure step through the quagmire that was elven
politics at that time. He carried about him at all times an edginess,
a sense of tension barely contained. His temper, even then, was
legend. Not the quick, explosive upwelling to which I am occasionally
prone but a thing of soft spoken knife-bright ice. The consensus was
that it should be avoided at all costs.

Long years after our first meeting, Erestor fought beside me at
Barad-dur. By then I knew his worth in battle well enough to be
embarrassed by memories of my youthful judgment. There are few I would
prefer to have guarding my back, He was tough, focused, and a stranger
to panic. His greatest gift was that he never gave up. Ever.

During my first few months in Lindon, not wishing to trouble my
already overburdened and at that stage slightly intimidating and
larger than life cousin, I learned to take my questions, uncertainties
and fears to Erestor. He could be abrupt, he never suffered fools
gladly, even if they were highly insecure young elves of royal
descent, but he would never refuse to answer a question. He could be
relied upon to put problems into perspective. He judged nothing, was
upset by nothing, embarrassed by less than nothing. Most importantly,
he always told me the truth and his advice usually worked.

When I finally moved to settle permanently in Imladris it was
unthinkable that he would not come with me and I truly have no idea
how I would have managed without him had he said 'no'. No problem was
too large, too complicated, or too delicate for him to manage. We had
a good working relationship .He always asked my opinion, listened
carefully to my wishes, and then did exactly as he pleased. Privately
he has been one of only four people in my life to whom I have found
myself able to give absolute trust.

In light of all this the last thing I expected was to come back to my
coldly impressive rooms in Minas Tirath after dinner to find him
curled up bonelessly, cat like, in one of those vastly uncomfortable
chairs which look very elegant but in actual fact are agony after the
first half hour.

I took one look at the posture, the half empty glass and those dark
brooding eyes which seemed to be reluctant to meet mine and experience
sent me to pour myself a drink. I soon found my instincts to have been
good. I needed it.

He watched me taking off my formal outer robe in silence and gave me
time to settle opposite him before speaking. "Do you remember meeting
my parents?" he asked, in that low, cool voice. "You might recall my
introducing them to you shortly before they crossed the sea at the end
of the second age."

Erestor had a habit of starting conversations in the middle, with no
explanation as to why the topic was being pursued. We would reach the
point when he was ready.

I gave him a non committal nod. I was tired, concerned about
Glorfindel, vaguely depressed, and had absolutely no idea where this
might be heading. I sipped my drink and watched him rubbing his
fingers together absently as he spoke, a sure sign of his discomfort.
Erestor did not fidget as a rule.

"I know they will be looking forward to our reunion. We have not seen
one another for such a very long time." His tone was musing,
thoughtful, but held a strange edge, His eyes were on the finger he
was running idly around the rim of his glass. "They've wondered about
the direction my life took after they left, I suppose. The war was
newly over, they knew I planned to remain in service with you. I know
like many others they assumed you would eventually accept the High
Kingship-"

He broke off upon seeing me frown warningly. This was a disagreement
from another time and place and one I had thought never to have to
revisit. I had rejected the chance to claim my right to succeed
Gil-galad for a variety of reasons not one of which did I have any
wish to revisit these several millennia later.

"No, no that isn't the thing that worries me." he said hastily. We had
been here before, and both remembered it as a painful place indeed.
"Definitely not that." He actually laughed. " My career at Imladris is
something I look forward to describing with pride. You have done well
by me, my lord..."

My lord? I was instantly alert. The only times Erestor called me 'my
lord' in private tended to be followed by such interesting personal
confidences as "Arwen is spending a lot of time with Estel, isn't
she?" or "I am a little concerned about the twins..."

"What appears to be the problem this time, Erestor?" I cut in. He
looked to be ready to talk a circle round the facts for most of the
night, something of which I knew him to be fully capable.

He bit his lower lip, looked at the floor, out the window, back to his
glass, anywhere but at me. I closed my eyes and took both a deep
breath and a good swallow of my brandy, and waited. When nothing was
forthcoming I gave him a little prod.

"Erestor, I am more tired than you can begin to imagine. The walls of
this place feel as though they are closing in on me. You may recall
that I have never liked Minas Tirith. I really don't feel up to
dragging whatever it is out of you piece by piece. Please just tell me
what is worrying you."

He frowned into the distance and then finally in a small and miserably
embarrassed voice, he said. "I despise myself for even thinking this,
but how do you think my family will react to Lindir?"

He even blushed slightly, something I would not have believed possible.

I surveyed this potential death trap in silence. I had already decided
to leave unmentioned my earlier conversation with the young elf, with
the idea that my Chief Councilor's business was his own, especially
now that my curiosity regarding Lindir's intent had been so thoroughly
addressed by the elf in question.

I knew that Erestor would need to have been deluded to believe that
their affair was unknown. Imladris is a hotbed of gossip, at the best
of times, and while, to my knowledge, no one had ever asked him
directly, Erestor missed very little and must have been aware of the
comment they aroused.

To be fair, they made an unusual couple. Lindir, the little blonde
Silvan elf, sweet voiced, hugely sociable, with a reputation for being
a repository for all the latest gossip, and for being the first to
arrive and the last to leave from any type of celebration. His gossip,
however, stopped short of the malicious and I had always found him to
be pleasant and entertaining company.

Musicians tend to travel a fair amount, and over time they acquire
polish. Like most of his kind Lindir had little trouble fitting
himself in to any company in which he found himself. However, his
education had been basic, his family unremarkable, and so far as I
knew he had made his way alone in the world from a young age.

By comparison, Erestor was Erestor.

I thought back to my scant acquaintance with Erestor's family.
Aman-born, pure bred Noldor to their fingertips. Proud, proper and
possessing an inherent sense of their own superiority. I am the heir
to two royal lines. I am Turgon's great-grandson and was blood kin to
the Noldorin High King, yet they had managed to make me feel vaguely
uncertain as I had not since I was very young indeed. Being Herald -
and lover - to a king has a way of building confidence and he had
taught me to think well of myself. Even so, I barely held my own.

Had Lindir been Lorien born, -one of those tall aristocratic blondes
they seem to produce so easily - with some noble connections or at
least a nodding acquaintance with the Lady who, rebel or not,
certainly had the right pedigree, it would have been awkward but at
least possible. As things stood... I went and refilled my glass,
pouring one for him as well and went to sit beside him.

For a time we drank in silence as I ordered my thoughts. Finally
instead of the easy reassurances that came immediately to mind I
decided to return to him his unfailing gift to me. I simply told him
the truth as I saw it.

"Erestor, best of advisors and dearest of friends," I said, watching
him out of the corner of my eye. "your family is going to hate and
despise him. He is too young, too Silvan, too talkative, too - too
Middle Earth and foreign to put it bluntly."

He proceeded to choke on the very good dwarf brandy I had given him.
Whatever he had expected of me, it had not been this. I patted his
back, being very careful not to smile and continued. "I hardly
understand what you feel there can be to discuss. However, I do have
one important question for you."

"And what would that be?" he asked, a little breathless, with the edge
of a warning to his voice.

"Is he a toy, as is generally assumed, or do you actually love the
child?" I asked.

He flashed me a look from those amazing jewel eyes which would have
frozen most people. I simply sat back and raised an eyebrow at him and
waited. After a minute he stopped trying to threaten me and turned
thoughtful.

"I've never really thought about it in those terms before" he
admitted, biting his lip again and swirling the contents of his glass.
"I know I enjoy him. He's warm and kind, and very talented, he can
make me almost cry with laughter, but he knows when to let me be."

He gave it a little further thought. "I haven't had better company in
my bed in more than an age either," he admitted with a rather wicked
smile, flashing me a quick glance.

"Do you love him?" I persisted, refusing to be diverted.

Erestor frowned into the glass. "I don't think that I have known him
long enough to use those words." he said slowly "I do know that, given
time, I might well find this to be so. Time," he added, glancing at
me, "which we do not have."

I nodded, and reached out to take his hand. "Erestor," I said " your
family will almost certainly not approve. And there will be many other
families dealing with similar upheaval. We have made our own culture,
our own norms here. You came to Arda in your youth, but I... I was
born here, as were my parents before me and their parents before them,
and there are many like me."

He sat sipping the brandy, nodding very slightly at my words, his
coolly assessing gaze turned inward.

"To me and to those like me the Undying Lands are not our home." I
explained quietly. "This is home, this place with its customs, its
problems and its people. All of us are going to have to adjust to ways
established since the Times of the Trees, while they will have to
learn to accept such things as very young, and somewhat exotic little
wood elves."

I gave his hand a squeeze, silently thanking my sons for our earlier
conversation which had left my mind very clear on this score at least.
His focus had changed now, he had returned and was watching me intently.

"We may be going `home' soon," I pulled my face slightly at the taste
and feel of the word in this context. "but we are going home as we
are. We are carrying with us what we have found here and who we have
become. Else it was all for nothing. All the glory, all the pain, all
the loss, this whole great adventure. For nothing. I will not allow
that to happen. Our dead lie buried here. We have to honor their
legacy. We will change nothing, hide nothing."

"And that would include exotic little wood elves, wouldn't it?" he
asked me, with a strangely gentle smile.

I nodded "That will include exotic little wood elves carrying the
music and song of this place with them." I agreed.

Somehow the words brought the leaving just a little closer to me, gave
it another layer of reality, and I blinked back the tears that were
beginning to sit just a little too close to the surface. He always
knew. Next moment, his arms were around me, his cheek against my hair
and I was held close and warm in an embrace which, since my young
days, had become the final answer to life's more unanswerable pains.

"We will honor their legacy together." he said softly. "The music and
the song."

Yes, we would return 'home' and we would honor our past and our dead -
and over here, beyond range of the bent seas my daughter would live
and love, and bear children, and make music of her own. And finally
one day she would travel down the road my brother had chosen and, like
him, be lost to me for all eternity. I rested my head on his shoulder
and, not for the first time in our long friendship, my tears dampened
that fall of gleaming black hair.

tbc

"Elladan is the one you need to worry about," Erestor said, through a mouthful of delicate, nut strewn pastry. "He's the one who's actively thinking about it."

We were sitting on a terrace in the private wing of the palace enjoying the fresh, clean breeze coming off the bay and equally enjoying a mid morning snack of fruit, pastries of various types and a refreshing herbal tea.

"Elladan?" My mind had been elsewhere, and for a moment I was puzzled.

"Your son," Erestor replied, gesturing over to the other side of the terrace. "That one, over there."

Elladan was in animated conversation with Faramir and two other mortals.

I watched him, partly because I love my sons, and enjoy watching them, partly trying to see him as others did. Elladan is the one that is physically more like me. Most regard them as identical. I have never understood why, to me the differences are many.

Elladan I had called him at birth - elf man. Celebrían had been horrified. It is the closest we ever came to a genuine fight in all the years of our marriage, but I had seen what I had seen and she was enough her mother's daughter to eventually give way and accept it.

Elrohir was my elven knight, almost purely elf, the fires of otherness banked down, all but out of sight.

These two were myself and Elros repeated, though not as unlike as we had been. Elros had been elven to the eye, graceful, with silk smooth hair and hairless skin, while, my features were not quite as fine drawn, my lips far fuller, my eyes rounder, my hair having a tendency to resemble more spider web than silk.

Hair there was too where elves did not tend to have it, a fine line down my stomach, under my arms, more extensively in my groin. Differences that were attractive, erotic even, I was told. It took the persistence and charm of a king to convince me. Elladan carried all these same marks of mixed blood that I did, Elrohir none, twin to my twin.

Elros and I had responded very differently to our place between two races. Having come through blood and fire, he had felt at liberty to question, to distance himself from his elven heritage, until the time came when he finally rejected it, walking away without a backward glance either for it or me.

I, on the other hand, had forced my hair into intricate braids to hide the fact that it was far from straight, carried myself carefully, studying those around me until the day Erestor, coming upon me tormenting still-wet hair to straightness lost patience with me and said,

"Elrond, your forefathers were kings amongst men. Tuor was acceptable to Turgon himself. Everyone knows your bloodline, stop this nonsense and be yourself. It is the only way you will ever earn respect."

This brought me up short. "Do you say I receive no respect?" I asked him sharply.

The almost yellow eyes flicked scorn at me as he pulled himself up to his full height.

"Elfling," he said "If you do not respect yourself, how can you ask it as a gift from others?"

"Elrond? Am I boring you?"

I cane back to myself again, shaking my head to clear it and smiled for him, to take the edge off the annoyance I could hear in his voice,

"Forgive me," I said. "I was thinking of the time you told me to respect myself and stop trying so hard to pass for pure born Noldor. Do you remember? I never thought it bothered Dan as it had me."

"Ah!" He put his hand lightly on my arm, a meaningful gesture as Erestor is not generally a tactile person - I did wonder how this worked with young Lindir - and said, kindly,

"Elladan, unlike you, was not asked to survive, unaided, in Lindon, after a brutalized childhood, nor has he had to make his place in the world without guidance. I cannot believe you have not spoken with him about this, probably extensively."

I had, of course, taken time with Elladan to talk about these differences that we carried, to let him know that I understood his occasional unease with himself.

I knew he sometimes felt more at home in the company of the northern rangers than he did amongst strange elves. Still, they were not my children alone, they were also children of the silver lady of the golden wood and I had hoped this would mitigate things. Up until recently I thought it had.

Now I watched him talking, trying himself at fitting here with these others, and I shivered. Erestor was watching too, chin on hand, a considering look on his face. "You need to speak with him," he said quietly, "Preferably before he makes himself too comfortable here."

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Glorfindel.

He takes such joy in life, having known the silence and coolness of death. His delight in every smallest contact between us, treasuring our love as something precious, easily lost, is something I have long since learned to take for granted.

It had taken some time for me to realize that the recent silences, the extra tenderness, the increased and sometimes innovative lovemaking were not simply his response to the tiredness and tension that had become part of my every waking moment.

To my shame I had been touched by his concern, took pleasure from the passion he offered me, never thinking that in loving me, he had chosen to not add his doubts and uncertainties to my list of concerns.

It took several days, and some very determined evasion from him, before it all came out at last, as these things are wont to do, in the dark hours before dawn.

I had fallen into bed, exhausted after further late night discussions, to find him lying waiting for either the sunrise or my return, whichever occurred first. Some instinct of the heart, told me that now, finally, he was vulnerable. I shook off tiredness and told him firmly that I would allow neither of us rest until he told me what it was that troubled him.

He denied flatly that there was anything to discuss, but he evaded my eyes, turning rather to lie on his stomach, his face hidden. I lay beside him, stroking his hair, telling him that, tired though I was, we would talk, or we would lie without rest. The choice was his.

Finally he believed me. He propped himself up on his elbows, facing the head board, not me, and allowed his thoughts to creep out into the light at last.

"It never bothered me before, but as our time gets closer and closer, I find my mind keeps going to this - to wondering if -- somehow -- perhaps --" He glanced at me out the corner of an eye. I lay on my side, watching him, keeping my face as smooth and calm as though I was chairing a meeting. I raised a brow slightly.

"Go on," I said.

He compressed his lips, gave me another look. "You're laughing, aren't you?" he asked me, getting ready to refuse to take it further. I assured him I was not, and reminded him that I was actually too tired to laugh at much and would he please get on with it.

He took a breath, released it, tried another and started to speak again, once more to the headboard, in a tone that was impersonal and distant.

"It is not impossible, after all this time, these several thousand years, for Gil- galad to have finally been reborn in Aman."

Now I understood the averted eyes. He had no wish to watch my face as I considered this impossible possibility, afraid, no doubt of what my expression might betray. As I tried to logically consider the chances of this having happened, he flung himself onto his side to face me.

"I can see it as though it has already happened," he said , forcing himself to meet my eyes now. His were troubled, his face was set in tense lines, and he looked old and tired. "I imagine our ship docking, us disembarking, and him standing there, waiting for you. I see your face as you see him…I have seen this before and I can see it now, your eyes seeking him, seeing no one else-"

We had met in Lindon - Glorfindel, the newly returned hero of Gondolin, myself, Earendil's son, newly Gil-galad's lover. I had not yet learnt to school my face, hide my emotions. Looking back, I might as well have carried a sign proclaiming it. He knew how I had looked well enough.

I pulled him to me and held him against me, my face in that mass of golden hair, my hands rubbing his back, savoring the silken skin even as they tried to offer comfort and some kind of security.

"I keep thinking if I could just find some way...now...here - while we are still together - to make you love me more. To be sure...to make you sure…" he spoke into my neck, trying to keep his voice even, but failing.

"Glorfindel, light of my soul, enough."

I tried to make my voice gentle yet firm, I recognized it is a tone I had often used with my children, and bit back a smile. I was speaking to one who had become a legend before I was ever born, one who had bought the life of the child who later became my father with his own.

"All I can give you are words. Can they be enough for the peace of your heart?"

I brushed back his hair, lifting his head to face me, and stroked my fingertips along an eyebrow, the curve of a cheek, then finally the line of his upper lip. He lay still under my touch, watching me with those clear, blue eyes.

"I loved Gil-galad." I told him quietly. " I loved him with every fiber of my being. He was the center of my world. I tried to remold myself to please him. He was not my first lover, though I think he liked to believe that, but he was my first love."

I paused, making sure I still had his attention, held his gaze.

"And then he died, Glori. And I thought my life would end too. I lived, instead of fading and following him into the dark, because there was still too much left, undone- you know this." I reminded him, smiling and kissing his cheek softly. "You were there."

I released him, rolled onto my side and propped myself up on an elbow, chin on hand, and proceeded to stroke him slowly, from the shoulder, to neck, then chest, following the lines and curves I knew so very well. He lay very quietly, watching my moving hand, nodding at my words but keeping silent.

Evenly, I asked him, "Glori, how pathetic do you actually think I am?"

He looked up at me, startled. "What do you mean?'

I sighed. "Melleth, Gil-galad died over three thousand years ago - quite some time past even by our reckoning, wouldn't you say?"

He frowned at me slightly, trying to follow my reasoning. I leaned in closer, holding his chin lightly, refusing to allow him to look away again.

"In those three thousand years, of course I have mourned him. I have missed him, not just as a lover but also as a friend. In that time I have also married, fathered three children, fought wars and lost my wife to unthinkable horror. It took rather a long while, " I added, chuckling softly, "but I have healed, and I have found myself with you."

He sighed softly, still frowning and made as though to move away from me, but I was faster, clasping him to me and claiming his lips. Tangling my left hand in his beautiful hair, I parted them and took possession of his mouth.

The kiss had been meant as a reassurance - a reminder of what was between us, but somehow it took on a life of its own. I found myself tasting him with a care and an intensity not usually to be found at this late hour, stroking my tongue against the bridge of his mouth, relishing the texture of the insides of his cheeks, sucking on his lips, tasting deeply of that velvety area beneath his tongue.

We kissed as though it was our first time together or as though it was our last. Hands moved with increasing tension and need over one another's bodies, till our focus closed in, shutting out the world, the room, everything save the sensations we evoked in one another, we kissed till he was breathless and I was breathless too.

I was the one to break it off, drawing back to look into his face, into his darkening blue eyes. Both of us gasping for breath, I leaned over him, elbows on his shoulders, and took his face between my hands, more roughly than I had intended.

"Gil-galad, aye and Celebrían, are my past, Glori. I would not be without the memories, the bitter with the sweet. I could not wish I had never met and loved him or married and built a life with her. These things have made me who I am, but that is behind me. You are my present, my future, the only one I can imagine spending eternity with."

He silenced me with a touch, then moved a hand to my hair, lifting it back from my face. He stroked my forehead and cheek with his fingertips, his heart in his touch.

"I just wish we could get there and get it over and done with and to deal with the reality." he finally admitted. "I need to know. If he has returned, I need you to either go to him or turn to me. I need to disembark from that ship at your side and watch your face."

I started to object, to deny his lack of trust in me, but he shook his head and his hand stilled, resting on my cheek.

"You said yourself, all you have to give me now are words. I know you would never lie to me. Do not think for a moment I imply that, but I am not convinced that even you yourself know the truth."

His hand moved to the back of my head, under my hair, and the hand on my waist slid down to rest on one buttock, fingers circling softly for a moment, then settling, gripping and drawing me to lie fully on top of him. I moved a leg over him and settled to lie, chin on folded arms, watching him. He brought his hands up to cup my face and said seriously,

"I need to be there if and when you first see him. That very first moment. Only then will either you or I really know."

We lay still and simply looked at each other for a few minutes, he idly playing with my hair while I traced the curve of his ear and watched his eyes behind the dark gold lashes.

Finally I said "I already know." and moved back slowly onto my side, drawing him with me, moving my arms up around his neck. I rubbed my lower body against his, giving him all the little signs and suggestions known and understood between long time lovers.

Some of our kind move from partner to partner, finding pleasure for a time, but offering no commitment, and, eventually, moving on. Some of us, needing more, are prepared to wait until we find the one that speaks to our hearts (or, in the case of Celebrían and myself, to the politics of the day) and then we are content and bind and search no more.

Part of this, no doubt, rests in the fabric of who we are. However, another part of it, is answered by plain common sense. We take care to have time apart, to have our own personal interests and concerns, and to travel - sometimes to spend long years apart - I once did not see Gil-galad for nigh on forty years. Our reunion was unforgettable.

Glorfindel and I had spent an unusually large amount of time together, but I would be old indeed before the touch of his hand, the smell of him, the taste of him, no longer filled my senses or drew me on to ecstasy. We had taken a very long time to find one another amongst the continual trauma of my life, and I was always aware of our good fortune.

He took time to carefully finish unbraiding my hair, combing it through with his fingers. Loose hair in bed was about the only thing he insisted on from me, after which he started to kiss his way down my neck slowly and lingeringly, sucking gently, careful to leave no mark where it could be seen publicly.

I let my head fall back, leaving my hands resting lightly on his shoulders as he moved from the base of my throat to run his teeth along my collarbone, barely touching, making me shiver.

He moved lower, licked a finger and rubbed it over a nipple, drawing back to watch the effect. The breath caught in my throat and he ducked his head to take the little nub of skin between his lips, licked, blew, licked again and then - without warning - sucked, using tongue and teeth, sending a thrill of pleasure/pain racing through me. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, hissing.

He began to roll the other nipple between a finger and thumb, increasing the pressure on both, making me moan and wind my fingers in his hair, drawing him closer to me.

After a few minutes of this, he released me and continued down my body, kissing and licking, his touch gentle and knowing, stopping occasionally to bite hard enough to mark.

By this stage I was making whimpering noises in my throat, a thing he swears he loves, my head moving from side to side. I ran my hands over his back, unable to do more as he was holding me down with an arm across my stomach.

After an age, during which he lit fire in roiling trails throughout my body, he propped himself up on one elbow and looked at me, running his tongue over his lips He stayed still for a minute, watching my aching length as though he had never seen it before and then bent forward and began to lick it slowly, little, darting motions of his tongue, making me shiver and squirm against the bed.

When he reached the tip, he stopped again. I tried thrusting up at him, desperate for contact, my breath catching in my throat, but he moved back from me, glancing up ,his face all innocence.

"No Glori, please, please..."

"Please, what ?"

"Please stop teasing" I hissed at him.

He laughed softly, was still laughing when I twisted under him and managed, at some strain to my muscles - Glori is not light - to roll us over. I sat astride him, my hands on his shoulders, looked down at him. Both of us laughing now with my hair hanging over his face.

"Allow me to demonstrate," I said, a little breathlessly.

I slid down him, licking a trail as I went, and then grasped his cock firmly in my hand, opened my mouth and swallowed. No teasing, no preparation, I just simply took him in as deep as I could.

I sucked him hard, my teeth grazing him, letting the pressure pull the skin tight, then slid back until I held the head alone in my mouth, rubbing my tongue roughly back and forth, thrusting it into the slit, listening to his soft, pleasured moans. Then I worked my way down his swollen length, in a series of sucking kisses, while he twisted his fingers through my hair, tugging sharply, sending knife thrusts of sensation through me.

The pressure on my hair increased and he persuaded me to be kissed, slowly and thoroughly, his arms now round me, holding me against him tightly, the hand not twined in my hair moving firmly up and down my body, a pause in the rush and the passion.

He released my mouth, trailing his lips across my face and then sharply sucked the tip of first one ear and then the other. He then drew back and pushed my head lightly to get my attention. His eyes were so close I could see nothing else. They were narrowed, dark and dangerous looking.

"Now?" he asked briefly. I nodded, wordlessly.

He moved over me, fumbled briefly in the little box of oddments I kept on the table beside the bed, and came back with the oil bottle. He knelt, opening it, then poured some into his hand, and coated his beautiful erection, the oiled flesh shimmering softly in the candlelight. My body stilled for a moment as I watched him.

The room was absolutely still save for the soft hiss of the candles and our breathing. I was aware of my body as though it were a thing separate from me, lying on the soft sheets, waiting for ecstasy.

He added more oil to his fingers, put the bottle back on the table, and sat back, his face serious, focused. Then his head was between my legs and he was kissing the insides of my thighs, sucking to leave marks.

He lifted my right leg to rest on his shoulder, and slowly inserted a finger inside of me, pushing very slowly past the ring, allowing me to savor the sensation of stretching, of pain balanced with pleasure that he knew I loved. I drew my other leg up round his waist and hollowed my back to arch my hips up to him.

He moved the one finger within me, withdrew it, inserting two in its place. Two become three, moving, then turning and twisting up, and the pleasure seemed to rush up my body and out through the top of my head. I know I shrieked. I know I grabbed at his thighs, and I know a voice, which I assume to have been mine was crying, "Now! Please, inside me now! fuck me...damn you!"

And then the fingers left, and his hands were under me, lifting me, and then his cock was pressing against my opening. I threw my head back and thrust up against him and he left off care and gentleness and pushed forward hard with a heavy grunt, counterpoint to my scream, sheathing himself completely within me in one movement.

The world stopped as he gave me moments to adjust to his length and width deep within me. To adjust to the pleasure that was pain, to the pain that was bliss, and then he drew back and thrust within me twice, all but splitting me in half, then angled himself again, finding my pleasure center, making my head jerk back and my teeth snap together.

My mind dissolved into a place of white light, heat, noise and striving and he rode me hard and fast and deep and took me to the brink, as his hand clamped at the base of my aching, weeping cock -almost there - as he released. - almost there -

And I began a chant of sounds, phrases and curses that eventually resolved itself into "Fuck me, do it...do it!" as I writhed and clawed, his hands gripping my thighs to leave bruises.

At last he threw back his head and cried out and thrust so deeply into me that I felt - for one moment - pain again, and then I felt him swell and come within me, as he knelt above me, perfectly still with his eyes closed.

He pulled out of me almost at once and turned onto his back, guiding me to kneel over him with my knees bracketing his shoulders and my hands gripping the headboard. He drew me forward so that he could take my length into his mouth drawing it deep into his throat, and sucked me roughly, carrying me, screaming his name, to a mind numbing completion,.

Afterwards, we lay apart, staring at the ceiling, waiting for our breathing to return to normal. Presently he turned his head to look at me, catching my eye. I raised an eyebrow to him, too exhausted to even think of speaking or moving.

"You know, sometimes, when you're dressed up and being 'oh so dignified and correct', I can't help wondering what people would think if I were to tell them the very proper, controlled Lord of Imladris is a screamer." he said, smiling broadly.

He had left me very little energy to retaliate with. Instead I rolled over, put my head on his chest and twined myself around him, loving the hardness and the solidness of him.

"I would have to tell them," I said, "that it is caused by the good, noble and excellent Lord Glorfindel deploying a fearsome and deadly weapon of torture."

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head, before settling to an attempt to restore order to my hair. Under his touch, I slipped into reverie.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

THE ROAD TO EDORAS

We left Minas Tirith, taking the road back to the north for the last time, serving also as escort to the remains of the late king of Rohan, with my daughter and bond-son riding the distance to the Golden Hall in company with us.

We were more like a small moving town than simply a group of travelers on the long road home. A king of Gondor must ride out suitably accompanied. The number increases proportionately when his queen is also present.

Added to the guards, the servants, the small group of ladies of good birth, there were the escorts of the Lord of the Mark, the Prince of Dol Amroth, and of course the entire elven company that had taken that same road earlier, heading to Gondor to see my daughter bound to Isildur's heir. We made a merry and secure company on the road.

Through the first day I found myself watching my sons.

They were riding in their sister's company, the only elves in a party of mortals. Elrohir seemed fairly quiet, but Elladan was apparently enjoying himself, talking, laughing and occasionally raising his voice in song, not behavior I normally associated with him. Erestor's warning came back to me and I determined to speak with him that evening.

After the evening meal I sought then out. They were part of a small group making plans to hunt along the way the next day. I motioned them to join me as I passed and made my way over to a secluded copse of trees close by, where the horses were corralled for the night.

They, as is the way with sons who like to feel they have outgrown parental authority, took their time in joining me, but eventually they arrived.

We exchanged a few inconsequential comments on the day and our fellow travelers, and then spent more minutes scrutinizing the horses before I finally drew in a firm breath and said,

"You seem to be making quite an effort to seek out mortal company, Dan. Is there something we should be discussing here?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. Of all my children Dan is the one who has the most trouble hiding his thoughts and emotions. The other two, should they so choose, can be unreadable. I usually found it a relief to be dealing with him, though not this time.

"I thought we agreed we should have time to investigate the possibilities before giving you our choice," he said. "All I was doing was-"

"All you were doing," I cut in, "was making the best effort you could to pass as a child of the second born."

I knew my voice was bitter, but it seemed outside my control. He flashed me a hurt look, standing very straight, his arms at his sides.

"Adar, I enjoy their company, is that such a bad thing? We like the same things, I am comfortable with them. You always make it sound such a bad thing to choose mortality Adar," ,he added, "Yet your own brother, our uncle, did just that very thing. How is it he was right yet I would be wrong?"

I remembered the fights, the shouting, the pleading, the tears that had accompanied Elros' choice, In the end Ereinion had threatened to send him from Lindon, so tired was he of having his household in uproar because of it. I was never one to hold my tongue.

"When," I asked quietly, "did I ever say I agreed with my brother's choice?"

"Well he must have been right." Dan retorted. "Otherwise there would have been no Gondor, no royal house, no king and no victory. Perhaps," he added "you were the one who was wrong."

"Hush, Dan." Elrohir had kept out of it till now, but obviously felt it had gone far enough.

"I will not hush, brother." he responded, his voice rising slightly. "He tells us we must choose, then he tells us which choice we should take, as though there are no answers but his, and when i give him an example -"

"Elros was right in that time, I see that now," I cut in again. "But this is a different age, a different world! What grand purpose do you think you would be serving, Dan, by remaining here...becoming mortal? What cause would that advance?"

"What would I advance, eternally young and eternally useless, in Valinor?" he threw back at me. "There are things to do here, Adar, things to achieve. Over there..." he was starting to pace back and forth now, as he did when agitated, "There we would be nothing, nothing but half mortal curiosities."

"Dan!" Elrohir. He reached out a hand but Elladan moved out of his reach. He would never brush his brother away, simply put himself out of reach.

"Well that is what we are!"

He swung to look me full in the face, anger kindled on his.

"You may call us half elven as much as you wish, but we are really half mortal, and that is how all Elvenkind sees us. You just won't accept it. You can try and try all you wish, but I don't see why I should. Here there are people who accept me for who I am. I don't have to be constantly watching how I move, how I speak, how-"

"When have you ever had to be careful of how you presented yourself to others of our kind?" I asked blankly. Not in my house, of that I was certain.

"Did you never think, all the times you would send us to Lorien to grandmother and grandfather, to ask us if we wanted to go there, Adar?" he said softly, turning over bright, painful eyes on me. "It was a nightmare, all politeness because of our family connections, and all the time the whispers..."

"Why did you not tell me?" I asked in disbelief. Not at his words, they rang too true to my own life experience, but to the fact that he -that they- would have kept silent.

"You would have just told us to be proud of ourselves!" he cried, out of patience. "How was I meant to tell you? You would have said I exaggerated. How was I meant to tell you?"

He was almost shouting now, unsettling the horses. "You were always so proud of us, you always thought we could do anything. How could I make you believe the whispers? How was I meant to tell you about the guard who was DARED to bed me, for a bet, to see how a mortal looked below the waist, and then drew a picture to show them?"

He stopped, hearing, I suppose, in his own voice, the remembered pain and humiliation, and being embarrassed by it. He stood breathing hard for a minute, staring at me, waiting for me to speak. Instead, Elrohir cut in softly.

"It's true enough that we hated going there, Adar," he said. "But they are our kin, what could either we, or you, do? We had to. And I do agree with him," He added, "I have no idea how we would have convinced you of the pure misery of it."

So much for all my efforts to be an approachable father. This was as good a time as any, I supposed, to discover that I had been a total failure as a parent.

I moved forward, planning to say I know not what to Elladan, but he stepped back from me at once, shaking his head.

"Adar, you have no idea what it was like, and you have no idea what we have to decide. Just let us do it alone, as you first agreed, and let us tell you when we are done. Surely," there were bright, unshed tears in his eyes, "surely it isn't so hard for you to understand that I might just want to be amongst people who won't judge me - us?" He realized a little late that he was speaking for himself, leaving his brother out of the decision-making.

"Of course I understand it can be difficult," I finally managed to interject. "Do you think I never had to deal with any of this myself, including..." I hesitated, but he had a right to know this. "Including the curiosity about my body? Do you really think I never experienced that? At one stage it felt as though I had half of Lindon trying to court me!"

"Well once the high king had satisfied HIS curiosity, I would be willing to bet no one else was determined enough to attempt an investigation." he said flatly.

I could feel my eyes widening and my mouth dropping open in disbelief. We stared at each other wordlessly. Nether of us knew how we had arrived at this place. Then, with an angry gesture of head and hand, he turned and walked off, back to the camp and, no doubt, his new friends.

Elrohir stood uncertain between us for a moment and then turned, as he had all his life, to follow his brother.

tbc

Part Four

I moved deeper into the shadows, sank down onto the cool grass under
the trees, feeling the tears slipping down my face. For a few minutes
I sat and wept in silence. In part they were tears of frustration,
and, yes, hurt, but mainly they were tears drawn from the sad, sure
knowledge that I was going to loose them all.

In time a faint sound, the brush of cloth on air, warned me I was no
longer alone, and I looked up, to see my younger son walking towards
me, worry on his face. There was no time to dry my tears, so instead I
bent my head, letting my hair fall forward, shielding my face.

Elrohir came and knelt beside me, his face, too, in shadow save for
his eyes, glimmering silver in the faint light.

"Don't let Dan upset you, Ada, he feels terrible about what happened,"
he said quietly. "He has no idea what he wants to do, he is so afraid
he will make the wrong choice, and it makes him lash out. Please don't
be too hard on him when he apologizes."

I had no intention of being hard, as he put it, on the child I had so
utterly failed. What had been said had been said. There had been more
than a grain of truth in it, too, beyond the crudeness. When he
apologized I would need to have words of my own to offer.

This would be a matter between Elladan and myself alone, so I simply
nodded. I did not ask Elrohir how he felt. I knew how hard it was for
him to seem to be criticizing his brother, even to me.

He was peering at me through the gloom, and suddenly reached out a
hand and with the tip of one finger touched the tears still wet on my
face. He withdrew his hand and stared at me wordlessly for a moment.

:We made you cry," he said wonderingly. "We made you cry and we didn't
even realize-"

"I have not yet sunk low enough to attempt to sway your choice with my
tears," I told him, rubbing my hand swiftly across my face. "I have
failed you in many things, but you have deserved better of me than that."

He sat back on his heels, staring at me. He looked very young, a thing
peculiar to Elrohir, this lightly walking, always laughing male child
of mine. He was not laughing now.

"You never cry." he said finally. "Never in all our life, not even
when Nana left....."

"I wept bitter tears for your mother," I interrupted him. "Erestor
could tell you tales of long nights when I could find no rest, and he,
in his kindness, stayed at my side. Please Rohir," I asked softly, "do
not think so badly of me as to believe I did not honor your mother's
ordeal with my tears. She was always dear to me."

He stared, considering this, while considering that there could be
something as large in my life as my tears that he could have known
nothing of.

"We just thought you were really strong," he said finally. "There were
your parents and your brother and the ones who raised you. There was
the high king and then nana..."

He sat gazing into some distant world closed to me, one arm resting
now lightly across my raised knee. After a time of thought he came
back to me "And finally there will be Arwen," he said softly. I had
nothing to say to this, so I remained silent.

He started to rise, then stopped, looking at me, still seeming almost
puzzled.

"Why did you even let us choose?" he asked. "Oh I know you had no
choice with Wen - no one ever has," he added a little grimly, "But why
us ? Why not just tell us we HAD to come with you?"

"Rohir, don't be ridiculous" I said "How could I do such a thing?"

"I would have" he interrupted me." I would have said to myself that
enough was enough, and I would have refused to accept any more loss
and I would have just said that we had a year to sort out our affairs
and then we would be sailing"

I smiled at him in the dark. "Child," I said "if I loved you two just
a little less, perhaps I would have been tempted .However, despite my
confrontation with your brother tonight, I love you both far, far too
much to try and force you to something that might in the end leave you
unhappy and regretful. I do retain the right to attempt to offer you
guidance though. I suppose," I added regretfully, "if I had not
brought this same soft heart to your raising this would never have
happened..."

"Yes Ada, the code of the Noldor, I know, I know." he cut in.

I could see the smile.

I had missed very few opportunities to remind them of my own stringent
upbringing and to contrast it, in its most favorable light of course,
against the way I had raised them I wondered when the last time had
been that they had actually taken me seriously on the subject,

He sank back down to the ground beside me. "You hated every moment of
your raising." he said coolly. "When we were born I suspect you took a
solemn vow that we would never suffer as you had and you raised us
with love and respect and the freedom to decide things for ourselves."

He put his hand to my cheek and looked at me as Arwen might have," We
never thought to thank you," he said. "We took it as our given right
and never even thanked you."

Elrohir.." I tried to interrupt but he shook his head at me.

"We never thanked you, but you are the one who taught Wen to believe
in herself and follow her heart's judgment."

"Don't remind me..."

"And, despite what Dan said, because he didn't always stand up for
himself when he should have you know, you showed us that we could do
something completely against the flow of our kind, and if it sat right
with us it would be right...no matter what the cost might be to you."

He gazed into my face a moment more and then suddenly hugged my,
tightly, as he had not done for many, many long centuries, and kissed
my cheek, then he rose and stood looking down at me, my son, no
elfling now, grown and capable in his own right, a prince, descendant
of kings.

"Old one," he said, very tenderly. "Why would I choose to stay here
and age and die, while knowing that my poor, ageless father pines
helpless and lonely, over the seas? And lonely you will be," he added
darkly," for you will no doubt be so miserable that even Glori would
be hard pressed to tolerate you. I could hardly reconcile my
conscience to that, could I?"

"Oh child!" I said, half laughing now. " Your conscience will
reconcile if it must. As will my heart, if it must. Tonight I am tired
and sad and readying myself to face taking leave of your sister. In a
few days I will be stronger again. The Vala know, I have had more than
sufficient practice."

And he shook his head, this son of Celebrian of Lorien, inheritor of
her generous, loving nature, something I had seen all his life without
knowing it for what it was, her gift to her son, and said quietly and
firmly,

"Not this time, Adar. On my given word, you will not have to be
reconciled this time. We will not sail at once, but when our sister
finally says goodnight to the world, we will come home to you."

"You cannot speak for Elladan..." I began. Rohir's word was absolute,
I would never question it, but he could hardly speak for his brother.
He could not make the decision for them both, without discussion, so
easily, so impulsively.

His face lit with mischief.

"Don't be silly, Ada," he said, laughing. "Of course not. However I
am going into the West. My choice is made and my mind is set. Our
childhood is past, we know how to deal with gossip and whispers by
now, they can be endured. Dan is scarcely going to stay here, grow a
beard, and develop kidney stones without the benefit of my company in
his misery. He'll come round. Leave that to me. Rest your heart now.

He flashed me a brilliant smile before turning to stride off through
the trees, back to the firelight, and laughter and the less certain,
more vulnerable, other half of his heart

`````````````````

After he left I chose rather to walk in the dark, listening to the
soft whispering of the leaves as the trees shared their own personal
tale of years, paying little heed to my direction certainly not
looking to find others there before me.

I stopped just before I would have tripped over them, to both their
and my embarrassment, alerted by the sound of a soft groan. How I had
failed to hear what must have preceded it I cannot say, save that I
was, honestly, lost in though of what I was going to say when next
Elladan and I spoke.

Erestor and Lindir had obviously decided to seek some privacy from the
encampment themselves. and their search had taken them to a grassy
grove among the trees.

Currently they were engaged in a conversation needing few words,
Erestor lay, unclothed, on his back, his always immaculate hair in
total disarray, pooling in darkness around his head. From where I
stood, frozen, I could partially see his face - his eyes were closed,
his mouth pulled into a grimace which could have passed for pain but
which was almost certainly intense pleasure.

Lindir sat naked astride him, hands braced against thighs, looking
every inch the wood elf he was, his hair a silver cloud swaying back
and forth with the motion of his body, as he rose up, drove down in a
hard, demanding rhythm. Erestor was gripping his shoulder tightly with
one hand, his other was busy stroking his lover towards completion.

There are times when it is nothing more than plain courtesy to return
along your path as quickly and as quietly as possible and this was
surely one such, but I stood motionless for long moments watching
them, not motivated by any vestige of lust, simply entranced by the
sight of such utterly primal, uninhibited beauty.

They were both so near the edge they can have had no idea that anyone
else was present. I think I might have walked right past and gone
unnoticed. As it was, I roused myself and left, moving back the way I
had come until I reached a point which anyone coming from the camp
would have to first pass. Here I settled myself down comfortably
against a tree and waited, guarding their privacy from other prying eyes.

It was quiet and pleasant, alone under the trees, a place well suited
to an elf. I could hear the sounds of the camp clearly carried through
the dark and elsewhere, on the edge of my hearing I could hear the
concluding sounds of intense pleasure. I found myself smiling.

Eventually I heard soft movements and withdrew into shadow. The lovers
passed me, unseeing, hand in hand, Lindir with his hair tidied and
looking as though he had had nothing on his mind other than a brief
evening stroll, and Erestor with his clothing slightly disheveled and
a few twigs and leaves to be spotted in his night black hair.

They paused for a moment while still within my sight to steal a long
kiss, Erestor wrapping a hand in the soft looking fair hair. When they
drew apart Lindir touched his face with aching tenderness, looking
into his eyes and then, laughing, teased him about having lived in
cities so long that he had forgotten how to be a true elf, while he
quickly plucked the clues to their coupling from the still tangled hair.

Then they moved on towards the camp and left me alone to my thoughts.

`````````````````

Of all the pleasures of my long life, one of the greatest has always
been the time I have been able to spend in company with my children.

The hills around Edoras are, for the most part, scrub covered and open
to the elements, but there are areas that sustain scanty tree
coverage, and one place which could possibly be called a wood. It was
to this area that we directed our steps, walking with no haste in the
early afternoon sunlight, taking time to look around us, commenting on
the town clinging to the slopes of the hill, on the late blooming
flowers, the unseasonable warmth this close to winter.

Once within the tree cover, we followed the natural flow of the land,
seeking and finally finding a place to rest. Rest was something we
both needed, neither of us able any longer to lay claim to elven
endurance. I was weakened by the loss of the strength that had
sustained me for an age, she by her choice.

I sank down, my back to a tree trunk, one leg drawn up, arms clasped
round the knee. Arwen curled onto a fallen branch, her legs drawn
beneath her, and turned to watch me, searching for words.

Something tired and hurt within me clenched. I would not make this any
easier for her, would not share the burden until I must .I had spent
my energies and a large part of my empathy on Glorfindel and Elladan,
while Arwen and I had been through most of this before, and I had very
little left to give. I sat silent and waited.

"When will you sail?"

She was always a straight forward child. My sons would lead in to a
thing with care, feeling the ground, but not her. Very much
Celeborn's grandchild, this one, for he too spoke as he saw a thing
and had no use for discretion. How the inner workings of that marriage
ran had always mystified me.

I sighed. "Within the year," I told her, leaning my head back against
the bark. "Probably around the turn of next year, we must still
decide. There is still so much to do..."

She was looking down, playing with a twig, a stillness about her. "I
had thought - you will not have time to visit us again before you
leave then, will you?"

She looked up, meeting my glance, the wide blue eye she had inherited
from her mother, troubled. I shook my head.

"Daughter, no. Not only will there be no time, but I very much doubt I
will have the energy for such a journey a year from now. Guardianship
of Vilya drained me perhaps more than you realize, I grow more weary
by the day, as does your grandmother. Very soon our choices will come
down to leaving or fading. I do not wish to wait that long, or to do
anything to hasten that point. A long journey a half year from now may
well do so."

She thought on this for a moment. "Perhaps we could come to you before
you leave?"

I shook my head. She had to understand and accept and there was no
more time to explain it gently.

"Child, it would be impossible for you husband to leave his duties and
travel so far north so soon. The war may be ended but the work is
still all to do. And," forestalling the words I saw forming on her
lips, "no, you cannot come alone. It will still be far too dangerous,
neither of us, I can assure you, will allow it."

"But then I won't see you again before you leave. I won't..." she
stared at me, her face open and hurting, her eyes clouding with
something like fear.

"I will never see you again!" she whispered. "Never again after tomorrow."

I simply looked at her. I had no words to give her. This was one of
the things she had known without understanding when she made her
choice, one of the things I had tried to protect her from.

It was now far too late to call back that choice, even should she wish
it. We are Luthien's descendants and, like our foremother, eventually
we all have to pay the price for our actions.

I watched her face as the emotions chased each other behind her eyes.

"Arwen." I said finally "We have said all this already. We have argued
it, I have forbidden, begged, threatened, and you have, despite this,
chosen as you have chosen."

She looked stricken, waiting for more harshness, more dire predictions
from me, but the time for these was now well past. This was my
daughter whom I loved with a full heart. I saw, clearly, that all I
had left to give her was kindness.

I held out my arms to her and -as she had when a small elfling- she
came into them, her head under my chin, curled against me, trusting me
to help heal the hurts, one last time. I wrapped my arms around her,
held her tightly against me, and breathed in the scent of her hair,
listened to the sound of her breathing and locked her, for all time,
in my heart.

She did not cry and, to my surprise, neither did I, we simply sat
together for a long time in silence, aware of one another and the
soft, small-animal sounds around us. I was right, it was all long
since spoken.

Finally I shifted slightly, made myself more comfortable against the
tree. "You know," I said, stroking the soft, dark hair, so like mine
though softer in texture, harder to tame. "I have a million things I
think I should tell you."

She moved her head to my shoulder, looked up in enquiry.

I smiled at her, patted her head lightly. "I want to fill your head
with all the advice I will not be here to give you later, all the
things I will wake in the night thinking 'I should have told her
about that, or this', everything I most probably would have left you
to sort out for yourself anyway, had I been here at the time."

"What things, Ada?" she asked, returning the smile, moving to make
herself comfortable too, for all the world as though we were about to
spend the next few hours in this unlikely little wood.

I leaned my head back, looked up at the light slanting down through
the leaves, looking at the sky. "Oh, handling the adjustments of
living in Gondor, being a queen, remaking a court diminished by war
and Denethor, the difficulties of cleaning up and rebuilding after a
war -"

She burst out laughing, sitting up and pushing me gently. "Ada, I can
learn as I go along. Really, you are all wise and all knowing about
many things, but, in these matters, you are as much a novice as I. And
you are right," she smiled wickedly "If I were able to come to you for
advice you probably would have told me to sort it out myself. "

I shook my head at her. "Child, it is the way of the young to forget
their parents ever had lives before they arrived on the scene."

She frowned, puzzled.

"I had a few thousand years' experience of court life at Lindon, long
before you were even thought of, I have fought in larger battles, I
have seen and had to deal with the aftermath of war's end - unemployed
orcs and mercenaries needing to be dealt with on an on-going basis
for years. And I have lived in close enough proximity to men to know
more than a little of their ways which you must admit can be a little
mystifying at times."

She pulled a wry face and nodded. Some adjustments, I could imagine,
had been easier than others.

I paused, not certain how far to go, but she was no longer an elfling.

"I admit that, like you, I have never been a queen," she giggled at
this, and I smiled and touched her cheek lightly "but my relationship
with Ereinion was such that he trusted me to make certain social
decisions for him, to take responsibility for the day to day running
of our lives. His Chief of Household reported to me, not him. I know
how these things are done because I have had to do them."

She thought this through, examining the meaning under the words. It is
never easy to think of your parents doing things that you will
yourself go to immense trouble to be able to do with the one who holds
your heart, or, at worst, your lustful interest.

None of my children will ever refer directly to the physical aspect of
my relationship with Glorfindel, although, were they to needs seek him
in the middle of the night, as my sons have had to do on more than one
occasion they would know where to find him.

"I was never sure about that," she said slowly. "You and Gil-galad I
mean." She looked down at her fingers, flexed them, looked up at me
with a touch of uncertainty. "I have heard enough stories that implied
you were - well - more than simply cousins and friends, king and
herald, but of course no one ever came out and said it where I could
hear it."

I burst out laughing. "I should hope not!" I said. "Your father's old
love affairs could hardly be termed suitable topics for conversation
and, worse still, Ereinion and I were the scandal of an age."

She joined me in laughing at the thought and the pain caught me
unawares and unlooked for - after tomorrow I would never hear her
laughter again, a sound which had been as much a part of my life as
the sound of my own breathing since her infancy.

I looked away quickly, to hide my discomfort from her. The business of
this afternoon was to store up memories, and, if it was within my
power, I wished for the ones she took away with her to be warm and tender.

She hesitated, but we had crossed a line so she continued. ""Was it
something known openly then, Ada, like you and Glorfindel"

I raised my eyebrows, "I always thought Glori and I were quite
discreet." I suggested.

She giggled again and suddenly leaned in and hugged me. I kept my arms
loosely around her.

"Adar, no one seeing you in the same room could doubt it, you fit
together too well. Anyway he watches you with his heart in his eyes."
She became serious again. "Was it like that?"

I thought back to another time and place, to light, sparkling eyes,
very long, dark hair, strong arms and a laugh that made all right
with the world. A personality that filled a room and a blazing,
unquenchable spirit.

I remembered making love in secluded corners, in a closet, in a
stable, hidden, shivering and laughing, in long, wet grass. I could
almost taste his mouth, feel his lips moving over my body, the
strength of him, the demanding, hungry way he would all but devour me..

I shook my head. These were things one did not think too long on
during a conversation with one's daughter. Most unsuitable.

I turned my mind instead to memories of disapproval and dissembling,
the plots, lies and deception, all of which we had defied in the name
of something we thought greater than dynastic needs, greater than the
need for him to wed, produce heirs, things he refused to do for love
of me, things he should have done for love of us all.. Our hearts had
been so young.

I remembered being young.

I had left my taste for defiance and adventure, along with my youth,
on the slopes of Orodruin. My memories, however, were still my own,
and they were forever.

I looked down at this child who was most like me, who had always
understood my heart when I cared to share it with her, who knew me as
no one had done since my brother's loss. I now understood the thing I
had tried so hard to shut out of my thoughts for as long as I had
realized that she loved Estel.

I took a breath, and gave her all I had left, the truth.

"No, daughter, it wasn't the same at all." I said softly, part of my
mind still walking back in those days, still hearing his rich voice,
smelling the scent of rosemary and pine that was so much a part of
him. I held her eyes with mine

"He was my first love, Arwen. There is never another like it. I would
willing have given up everything I had for Ereinion."

She put her hand to my face and looked deep into my eyes and I saw and
understood her questions.

"I cared deeply about your mother, though we were never a love match
as you know well .We built something based on honesty and friendship.
When we came together I was still mourning my lover's death, and she
respected my pain. Later she gave me you and your brothers. I will
never cease to honor her for that." I smiled at her, putting my hand
to her hair again. "There are things other than a deathless love that
can bind people together in real contentment."

"And Glorfindel?" she asked quietly.

I closed my eyes for a minute, moving back from the memories.

"I love Glorfindel," I said. "It isn't the overwhelming, burning
passion of a first love. It is a deeper thing, richer, sounder. He
completes me. I am a different person to the young one who danced, and
dreamed and loved in Lindon. Were I to meet Ereinion again, returned
as Glori was, it would not be as it was, I am too different now, I
believe we could be close friends, but no more."

I thought of something and laughed. "I would be so much older than
him, for a start. We would never recover from that."

It was her turn to look up at the sky. Her face grew still, sad. "It
grows late, Ada." she said. "There is that grand, farewell dinner
planned for tonight. We cannot be late -"

"And you will need at least two hours to prepare yourself for it." I
teased her, rising to my feet and drawing her up with me. We stood
looking into one another's eyes. She was tall, almost as tall as her
brothers. Celebrian had been a tiny, delicate creature, all spun
silver hair and blue eyes, which belied the fact that she could swear
like a horse trader and out drink Erestor. In that way she was all her
mother's child. We had been dear friends, how could we not? I have
never ceased to feel her loss.

She stood with her hands on my chest, looking up at me, still not
totally satisfied, putting the information in order in her mind.

"So, even though the king was your first love, Glorfindel is your last
one?" she asked, speaking slowly.

I nodded. There would certainly be no one after him. In Valinor there
would be nothing to part us, certainly not Celebrian who, if healed,
would still never dream to come between us. I refused to reconsider
Gil-galad, refused to entertain something that could be no more than a
dark shadow in Glorifindel's heart.

"So, what were you trying to tell me? That if I had sailed with you,
eventually my heart would have healed and perhaps I would have met
some one else and known a greater, deeper love? Is that what you
truly believe?"

I could lie, or not. There was no third choice and suddenly I was glad
that she had asked it, glad that just once in my life I could say it.

"Daughter, I have no way to tell you now what might have been." I said
quietly, watching her face, memorizing the curves and planes, the
tints of her satiny skin. "All I have to offer you is this. Remember I
told you that I would have given up everything I had for Gil-galad?"

She nodded, studying me in much the same way as I was her. Ah well, we
would both need the memories after all, not just me.

"I lived after he died, because he had made me promise that, no matter
what happened, I would remain here until the end. That promise, and
Erestor following me around like a second shadow, making sure I ate
and took some rest, were the only things that kept me from joining him."

Her eyes, were shocked, concerned. She had always known me as strong,
able to overcome pain and sorrow through force of will. The aching,
angry, desperate elf who had survived Barad-dur and walked away from a
crown, who had fled back to the relative isolation of Imladris as soon
as he was able, was some one that, fortunately, she had never met. I
took her hands in mine.

" I would have given up everything I had to be with him again, Arwen."
I said. "Everything, without a backward glance, including my
immortality and the Undying Lands. I think this is why I fought so
hard to change your mind, daughter. Not because I did not understand
how deeply you loved Estel and to what lengths you would be prepared
to go, but more likely because I did."

The tears came then, to her and to me and we stood a long time, under
the trees, holding one another close, while the late afternoon sun
slanted now low through the trees, sparkling off the soft wisps of
dark hair moving under my stroking hand. I pressed her face into my
shoulder and held her tightly, my cheek against her hair, shutting out
the woodland sounds and sights, holding her to me, feeling every line
of her, one long, last, aching time
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I left her to ready herself for the evening's entertainment, and took
myself for a walk, my mind calm and empty.

I saw a glint of yellow gold, a bowed head. and I walked slowly up the
path to Glorfindel. He raised his head and looked gravely at me,
marking my face, my posture and whatever other signs he uses to
determine my wellbeing, or lack thereof. He had obviously been waiting
for me to return, He did not smile. Anyone else would have smiled,
but his empathy is great, his heart, by instinct, knows mine, and he
knew that I had no place at that moment for smiles.

He looked, possibly, even more tired than I felt.

This legend of the battlefield, this being of song and saga, this
gentle elf with his deep, wondering love for all living things, has
spent most of his time here devoted to war or the preparations for war.

He has walked the lands of middle earth for the span of two lifetimes
now, even as we reckon time he is old. Tired out by what Galadriel so
rightly has termed fighting the long defeat, he is more than ready to
leave. The adventure paled for him many a long century ago.

I have no idea how long he has remained purely for my sake, and for
the sake of my promise to Gil-galad, my promise to my former lover,
binding him as surely as if he had uttered the words himself.

It was right that I should honor our love, keep him close beside me,
give him what words and reassurances I could until the time came, soon
now, within the next year, when he would finally see for himself that
no matter what may have gone before, nothing would ever part us.

He was toying with a hawk's feather which he displayed to me, giving
me that smile that started behind his deep blue eyes before spreading
to lighten his whole face.

"It's the colour of your hair. That's been my tale of the last few
thousand years, you know. So many things put me in mind of you. Of all
the things about being returned to life that I have taken the most joy
from, loving you has always been the greatest."

He smiled into my eyes, stroking the feather playfully across my cheek.

"Even when you were wed to Celebrian and had no idea how I felt and I
thought I would never be able to tell you, I still loved loving you.
It gives an extra layer to everything I see, everything I do. I think
of you and my world is a good place to live in."

I have never, ever, come even close to being worthy of him.

He lowered the feather and, eyes locked to mine, he said gently,
"Heart of my heart, joy of my soul, I have been walking in the sun and
thinking of your pain. I know you cannot stay longer. I, however, can."

I started to say something and he shook his head at me, making a
stilling motion with his hand.

"I love and trust you and I have put away my fear. I will stay here
with Arwen and Estel until their time has passed. I will kiss your
grandchildren for you, and share my memories of you with them, and at
the end I will cross the sea with your sons, and bring you the tale of
their years."

He touched his fingers to my lips, then took my arm lightly and in
silence we walked along the path to the hall together.

No more words were uttered, I have known him long enough to know that
when he has decided something, argument is futile. With a lot less
noise and fuss, Glorfindel can be every bit as stubborn as I.

As we walked, I thought of my talk with Arwen, and of the freshness of
my memories of Gil-galad. Alongside that I considered this immense
gift Glori was placing in my hands.

He knew my heart so well that there was a fair chance he had been
right. Perhaps if Ereinion and I were ever somehow to meet again , it
would be as though no time had ever elapsed, the fire and the soul
shattering magic still intact, and when I arrived in Valinor, Glori
would still be here, watching over my daughter, guiding her, being her
advisor and store of wisdom in my stead.

I thought of all the other gifts I had received from him down the
centuries - gifts of friendship and loyalty and patience and an
absolute, unconditional love Somehow, between one step and the next,
and after over three thousand years, I finally understood something
Celebrian had told me so often in the course of our marriage. It was
time to let the past go and to move on.

I looked at Glorfindel walking beside me, his hair like fire in the
sunlight, his strength and love an almost tangible thing.

He turned and raised an enquiring brow when he found me watching him.
I looked into the clear blue eyes of my future and perhaps for the
first time in my life I felt at peace.

END

A.N. the scene berween Elrond and Arwen was based on a suggestion from
Red - thank you for all your help, sweetie