Title: A Secret Yule
Series: The Bond Between Brothers
Type: FPS
Author: Lady Mirfain (ladymirfain@gmail.com)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Glorfindel/?
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. They all belong to Tolkien.
I am just borrowing them to play with. I promise to return them with smiles
on their faces.
Beta: Aglarien (agie@aglarien.com)
Notes: This was inspired by the "Christmas Dilemma discussion on the Erestor
Lover's list. It is going to be a part of a much larger series so bear with
me if you think it short. The next segment will be coming soon. Just don't
kill me when you see what I do to Erestor.
Summary: Glorfindel has a secret admirer and he hopes his time of being
alone is at an end.

*** A Secret Yule ***.

To my most beloved Glorfindel,

I have loved you for many centuries in silence and find I can no longer bear
it. Tonight, I will meet you. Please, I beg of you, do not turn me away.

Your Secret Admirer.

Glorfindel looked at the bold, masculine scrawl on the bit of parchment that
had been handed to him by a passing servant moments earlier and he sucked in
his breath. Someone loved him? He had had many admirers since his return,
but these had all wanted him for his fame and station rather than for
himself. Would this be different? Besides, his heart beat for one so aloof
that ice would not melt on his tongue and Glorfindel feared a lifetime
alone.

Dressing in his best robes of emerald velvet with the delicate embroidery of
his house so very long ago, Glorfindel made his way with uncertain steps to
the Hall of Fire for the Yule Festivities. If his heart beat a bit faster or
there was a slight bounce to his steps, he ignored it. He was not excited.
No sir, not the famed Balrog Slayer. He was cool and capable and needed no
one.

He stepped into the brightly lit room and looked around, well wishes and
cries of "Happy Yule!" assaulting his ears. He beamed and returned the calls
and made his way towards his Lord and his family. He blinked in surprise,
for while he had known that Galadriel and Celeborn were to be there, he had
not realized that their escorts would be the three brothers from the Golden
Wood.

''It could not possibly be, could it?' he thought for an instant, then
dismissed it when he passed the elf of his desire and received not even a
nod. The cold elf stood with his friends talking, yet not truly joining in
their merrymaking. It was as if a shell of ice encased the pale blond.

How Glorfindel longed to pull the warrior into his arms and try to melt that
cold exterior, but knew that this night he would relinquish his love for the
elf and accept another in its stead.

"My Lord, My Lady," Glorfindel said as he bowed before Elrond and Celebrían,
then turned to greet the Lord and Lady of the Lorien. He stood there for
many a long minute speaking of minor things, for all matters of the realms
were put on hold for the occasion of Yule.

It was when Elrond moved to the tall tree in the center of the dais to begin
the passing out of gifts that Glorfindel's palms began to sweat and he
wondered what awaited him this night. Would someone approach? Would he
receive another note? Would he get a gift?

His questions were answered when Elladan brought a large package that his
father had given him, placing it in Glorfindel's hands. "Thank you, little
one," he told the small elfling, only to be informed that it was not from
him. With his brow wrinkled in confusion, Glorfindel opened it to reveal a
gleaming sword, worn with age but beautiful. And it brought tears to his
eyes, for it was a sword from his city, the city of Gondolin, and he could
do naught but wonder how it had come to be gifted to him. It must have cost
the giver a pretty penny.

Then Elladan picked up the parchment that had fluttered to the ground and
handed it to Glorfindel. The warrior looked at it, his eyes going wide.

My dearest Glorfindel:

I thought of you immediately when I saw this sword, and upon finding it was
from your city, knew you had to have it. It could not mean more to anyone
than it will to you. And I beg that you think of me as you carry it in
battle.

Your Secret Admirer

Glorfindel staggered slightly and moved to the row of chairs, sinking into
the first one he found, the sword clutched in his hands. Tears filled his
eyes: tears of joy, tears of loss, tears of sadness, tears of hope. Then he
looked around, trying to figure out whom among those present could afford
such a gift. But it could have been any elf there. Even those without large
incomes could save enough to purchase such a gift at Yule.

This left Glorfindel back at square one. He looked at Lindir, but ruled the
elf out, for he was currently locked in a heated embrace with Erestor. He
looked at Melpomaen, but he was holding hands with Saelbeth, and anyone
could see the love in their faces, each for the other. Every where he
looked, elves were paired up. And the ones that were not were not ones that
he thought would be interested in more than the fact that he was the famed
Balrog Slayer. Except for one. But that elf stood ramrod straight, his hair
glinting silvery gold in the firelight, his eyes straight ahead, no
expression on his face. Despair began to fill him and he rose to his feet,
intending to leave the room.

A tiny hand tugged on his robe, and Glorfindel looked down to find the
bright head of an elfling clutching a candy cane and a crumpled parchment in
one hand. She handed the parchment to him without a word and wandered off.
Glorfindel watched her go, but when she joined the other elflings, he sighed
and looked at the sticky paper in his hand.

My beloved Glorfindel:

I see the doubt in you as you sit, my sword in your hand. Please, have no
doubts of my love for you. Go to the statue of Gil-Galad in the garden. I
love you.

Your Secret Admirer

Glorfindel could not help himself and jumped to his feet, rushing from the
room, the sword clutched in his hand still. He almost fell over the paving
stones in his haste to get to the statue in the garden, the paths lit only
by the light of the half moon, but he needed to know who was sending him the
notes. Who had known what the sword would mean to him?

He slid to a stop before the statue, a frown creasing his brow as he
realized there was no one there. Who was doing this to him? Why were they
not there? But then he spied another package wrapped as his sword had been,
and with trembling hands he took it up and settled on a bench to open it.

He gasped loudly as the scabbard for his sword was revealed in all its
glory. He could tell it had been made for him. The detail was of the crest
of his household, and the delicate golden flowers that encrusted the leather
gleamed. He knew that when he truly inspected it in the light, it would be
golden wire that was used, and he felt fresh tears begin to fall. Someone
knew him well.

This time, the parchment was tucked just inside the neck of the scabbard and
Glorfindel drew it out, the handwriting now familiar to him.

My most desired Glorfindel:

Dry your tears, my beloved. I know how this must affect you for long have I
known you and I do not mean to make you cry for your city, but to remember
all the joy and happiness you knew there. I was unable to discover exactly
what your scabbard looked like back then, but hope this will do you justice.
I pray that you like it and think it worthy of your new sword.

Come to the stables, my love.

Your most anxious Secret Admirer

This time, Glorfindel ran full out to the stables. He tore open the door and
entered the warm building, greeted by the sounds of the horses moving about
and the flickering light of one lantern, left lit by the door. A package
rested near it. His breath coming harshly, Glorfindel tore the paper from
the package and cried out, startling the horses. In his hands, he held the
exact replica of his cloak - the very cloak in the tapestry hanging on the
wall in the library which depicted his fall, and the cloak his mother had
made for him and gifted to him for his majority. He fell to his knees as the
pain of his mother's loss washed over him and he cried many a tear, his
shoulders heaving until finally he could cry no more. Then he noticed the
parchment and opened it.

My beloved Glorfindel:

I fear I have once again brought tears to your eyes with my gift, and I
regret this, but I would see your honor restored to you. However, my
greatest desire is to hold you in my arms this night and celebrate Yule with
you. I am awaiting you in your chambers. Come to me, my love.

Your Secret Admirer

Wiping the tears from his cheeks, Glorfindel rose and placed his new cloak
around his shoulders, fastening it with shaking hands. For all the pain the
cloak brought him, it also comforted him with the feeling of closeness to
his mother. Oh how he missed her. His only comfort this night was that both
his parents had sailed but a month before the fall and so lived in Aman.

His steps were slower as he made his way to his rooms, suddenly realizing
how long he had been in the stables as he lit his way with the lone lantern
to keep from stumbling in the darkness. The moon was behind a storm cloud,
and he realized suddenly that their visitors from Lorien were going to be
stuck there until the spring thaw. Winter had arrived in Imladris and there
would be snow by morning. Even as the thought crossed his mind, the first
flakes began to fall, ghosting his shoulders as he walked.

Glorfindel stood a long moment, his hand on the doorknob of his chambers,
not sure if he wanted to enter or not. But taking a deep breath he opened
the door, stepped inside and froze.

The room was not as he had left it. Hundreds of candles were flickering,
giving the room a warm and romantic glow. His bed was cloaked in emerald
satin sheets, glistening in the flickering firelight of the roaring fire in
the fireplace. There were sweetmeats and pastries on the table, along with a
bottle of wine and a pitcher of water. But it was what was sprawled upon the
couch that gave him the greatest pause.

There was another gift. It was wrapped only in a bright green ribbon. And it
was the most dear gift he could have imagined. He laughed gleefully as the
wolfhound puppy jumped down and ran to him, sniffing his boots. He dropped
to his knees, ruffling its fur and hugging it. He was so engrossed he did
not hear the bathroom door open, nor did he hear the soft tread as the elf
approached him from behind. It was not until the elf wrapped his arms around
his shoulders that Glorfindel realized he was not alone, and he turned his
head to look at the elf.

"You," he breathed then was silent as his mouth was claimed by lips that
tasted of the sweetest nectar.

When he could finally breathe again, Glorfindel looked upon his secret
admirer and secret love with a brilliant smile. "Thank you for my gifts. I
love you, Haldir."

"As I love you, Glorfindel," Haldir whispered and claimed the long desired
lips once more.

*****
THE END