Title: And Morgoth Trembled
Type: Fiction; NSS (non-sexual slash)
Author: Zhie zhiester@gmail.com
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor ; Eventual Gwindor/Finduilas ; mentions
of other pairings
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just make sure they get played with
now and then.
Timeline: Valinor -- Fourth Age
Archived at: Pounce! http://pounce.dreamelf.com
Notes: It is helpful to have an understanding of the PPB AU sub-
universe I operate out of, but not entirely necessary. Enjoy!
Summary: A story to follow the second life of Gwindor, a Lord of
Nargothrond, reborn in Valinor and adopted by two very loving elves.
A classic tale of the babe who is left abandoned on the doorstep of
an unsuspecting but loving couple who are otherwise unable to have
children of their own. Enjoy!





{Chapter One}


Bundled in a worn green and white checkered quilt was a warm,
sleeping elfling, hugged close to Glorfindel's chest. The elfling
had been found earlier on the front porch of the seaside cottage in
Valinor shared by Glorfindel and Erestor. "We don't know who put
him there. I do know it's too cold for an elfling to survive for
long, and they couldn't have known anyone would find him. There was
no note, no one knocked on the door, nothing. I don't know who they
are, but when we find them-"

"We won't," Erestor said softly, turning as the baby began to stir.
Reaching down, he lifted back part of the blanket, tilting his head
sadly. "I wish they would have waited to abandon him until he was a
little stronger."

Galadriel nodded. "He needs to be fed, he's too thin," she noted,
feeling the blanketed babe. Her frown deepened as she felt his
little legs through the blanket. "He isn't fussing much," she said.

"He can't. He doesn't have the strength to." Taking the elfling
away from Glorfindel, who was reluctant to let him go, Erestor
revealed the thin, weak legs and Galadriel clutched her stomach as
she took in the little one's marred face.

Turning away, Galadriel said, "Perhaps we can get him to Haldir's
house. There is a chance Elodien could nurse him."

"We don't have that sort of time," concluded Erestor as he rewrapped
the quilt and reliquished the baby back to Glorfindel. "I think the
cow's milk would be too strong, so we came here to try the goats,"
he explained as Glorfindel tucked the baby back under his chin.

Giving a nod, Galadriel plucked a candle from the ones sitting in
the hallway. "Let me get dressed and find a pail."

"I'll go," said Erestor. "Just a wide bowl is fine for me, if
there's one in the kitchen, and would you mind if we stayed, just
until morning?"

"Yes, you know where they are. Here, I'll help you get one," she
said as she followed Erestor down the dimly lit corridor.

"Erestor. However good your intentions, he may not survive," she
hissed as she found the bowl. "I'm not going to say that in front
of Glorfindel, but you must know from looking at that poor little
thing-"

"He is NOT a thing," Erestor said as he cut her off. "He is my
son." His eyes held a fire she had not seen before, but it died
away as she handed him the bowl and bowed her head away. "Artanis,
I'm sorry, I know what you meant. I just... how could anyone think
to abandon their child?" His shoulders shook and the bowl dropped to
the floor and shattered, but he made no move to pick up the pieces.
Sagging as he leaned against the wall, he said through his tears, "I
know him, Artanis, I know him."

"Stay here. I'll be right back." Galadriel retrieved another bowl
and left the kitchen, passing Glorfindel on her way to the
door. "Go up to the third floor, you can use Haldir's old rooms.
Everything you need should be there, and I'll see if we still have a
cradle when I return." She waited until he had started up the
stairs before leaving the house for the barn.

"Thank you." Erestor took hold of the bowl when Galadriel
returned. The floor had been swept, and Erestor was sitting at the
table. He was standing up now, and moving to the door. "Where are
they?"

"Third floor," she said. "Erestor?" He turned and looked at
her. "If you need help, don't hesitate. If his parents- if the
ones who left him on your stoop come by, what do you want me to tell
them?"

Shaking his head, Erestor said, "They won't." He carried the bowl
up two flights of steps and walked down the hall to the white and
golden room. Glorfindel had managed to light a number of candles
and had turned the desk chair around. He was rocking his body back
and forth, whispering to the elfling as Erestor kicked the door shut
with his foot.

Setting the bowl down on the desktop, Erestor placed a hand to
Glorfindel's cheek. "I'm sorry," he said softly, as not to disturb
Glorfindel's humming too much. "I know we should have discussed it,
but... I don't think it was random he ended up on our porch. I
think Eru's watching out for him."

"Well, Eru can't do it all on his own," Glorfindel said softly.
Dipping his fingers into the bowl, he offered them to the elfling,
but was met by a pouting and unhappy little face and had to use the
corner of the quilt to dab at the drops that fell. "Any ideas?"
asked Glorfindel as he stuck his pinky back into the bowl and tried
again with less luck. He rubbed his finger on the baby's lips,
which only served to make the elfling cry.

Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, Erestor lowered himself down,
looking helpless as Glorfindel tried every finger on both hands,
even trying to spoon it with his fingers together. Both the towel
and his tunic were damp now, from the milk and from the sweat as
Glorfindel's frustration with the situation grew. "Here, can you
hold our son while I get this off?" asked Glorfindel, handing the
baby to Erestor.

"I love you so much," answered Erestor, cradling the elfling as
Glorfindel tossed the damp tunic and his shirt into a pile near the
door. It wasn't until Glorfindel had taken possession of the child
once again that Erestor burst into tears, fists clenched to his
bowed face as he tried to sort out all of the emotions and thoughts
he was having.

He looked up again when he realized that the sounds of a whimpering
baby had been replaced by a slurping noise. "What are you- oh, it's
dripping all over the floor," Erestor said, hastily retrieving a
towel before returning to sop up mess from the rugs.

"Ah, but he's eating, and that's what matters," Glorfindel pointed
out. Glorfindel had the little one cradled in his left arm. He
dribbled the goats' milk from his right hand down his own collarbone
where most of it was sliding down his chest like a little white
river. One tiny hand was waving lazily in the air as the other
pressed to Glorfindel's skin. The elfling's mouth was latched on to
Glorfindel, lazy-eyed but looking happier as he managed to suck much
of the milk that trickled down to him.

"I suppose I'm wasting it this way," frowned Glorfindel as Erestor
wiped the excess milk from his side and the chair

"I can get more," assured Erestor. "It's not a waste. I'll be
back."

As Erestor moved out into the hallway, he ran into Elrond, who had
just dressed and was leaving his room. Obviously, Galadriel was
wasting little time in waking the household, or at least particular
members. There was a grin on the peredhel's face as Erestor
approached him. "Congratulations are in order, but first, did I
overhear a need to milk the goats again?"

Giving a nod, Erestor allowed himself to fall victim to a lengthy
speech in which he was imparted with every important piece of
knowledge Elrond had ever wanted to tell a new father but had never
been given the chance to do. The entire time milking the goats was
filled with anecdotes from the childhood of the twins, Arwen, and
Vilya as Elrond recalled everything from proud moments to be thrown
up on, all of which was described in detail to Erestor as he sat
silently on his stool and milked the goat.

As the pair came back inside and went up the stairs, Erestor said
nervously, "Elrond, you might want to just... to not come in."

"Why not?" Stopping just short of the door, Elrond looked truly
puzzled. "I'm right in the next room, Erestor, I heard everything
going on," he admitted as he watched Erestor stare at the door
uneasily. "I'm sorry, but I'm just right in the next room."

"That isn't why," whispered Erestor. "He... his face..."

"Erestor, is that you?" called out Glorfindel.

Hastily, Erestor reached for the handle of the door and entered,
finding Glorfindel was not alone. Lined up on the bed were
Galadriel, Nenniach, and Rumil, who was currently holding the baby.
Erestor smiled when Rumil looked up and said, "I finally have a
brother-in-law!"

"We've been helping to entertain," explained Galadriel. She was
holding the damp towel, and walked with it to Erestor, handing it to
him. "If you want, I offered to Glorfindel that I can try to-"

"Auntie," pouted Glorfindel, appealing to her in a way he rarely did
but that tended to work, "if I'm going to be his Nana, then it's my
task."

Feeling his throat tighten, Erestor swallowed down hard to keep
himself from another breakdown. "Thank you, but I think we've
managed to work something out."

"Alright, give them some space," directed Elrond, bringing in the
second bucket and placing it next to the desk. He intercepted the
baby before he reached Glorfindel and held the little elfling
gently. "In the morning, bring him to me, I'll see what we can do
for his legs," Elrond said, watching the baby follow the finger he
moved back and forth, up and down in front of his eyes. "Well,
then, here's your little peanut back," he laughed as Glorfindel
impatiently tapped his foot.

Celeborn entered just as Elrond was leaving. "I can't find a crib
or cradle to save my soul, but I can ride to get one tomorrow, or
have Orophin build one. I'm sure he'd love to; you'll need one for
here and one for your home. Everything went with Elodien when she
was expecting."

"That's quite alright, it will take us at least until morning to see
he is fed," said Glorfindel. "He can sleep in my arms after that.
He likes it there, don't you, peanut?" he asked, trying out Elrond's
nickname.

But Celeborn was musing to himself. "If I start now, though, make
it there by noon... I'm going to leave now, in case anyone asks for
me, I don't want to wake anyone back up."

"I don't think that they are all asleep again yet," said
Erestor. "Really, it's not a problem, we can-"

"Glorfindel, may I borrow Asfaloth?" Elrond was back at the door,
fastening his belt again, then looked at Celeborn's questioning
expression. "I'll get provisions for us and we'll have breakfast on
the way. No need for you to ride alone with two horses here.
Glorfindel?"

"I have no reason to say no." Glorfindel was moving to the rocking
chair that Rumil had brought up to the room as Celeborn and Elrond
left. "Well, there we are. You worried they would smother us, but
they're all being quite helpful."

Erestor moved a table beside the rocker and brought over a fresh
bowl of milk. "Easy for you. Elrond lectured me already."

"Well, I got breastfeeding tips from your daughter," countered
Glorfindel as he tucked a cloth under his arm to catch the runoff.

Pausing mid-step, Erestor turned. "Alright. You win." After
turning down the bed with expectations that they would all need at
least a little rest, Erestor then went to tend to the fireplace.

"Maybe this is odd to think or say," spoke Glorfindel as Erestor
dragged the desk chair to the rocker, "but this is an incredible
thing to be doing. I'm a little envious in that I... well, it's
silly, but I wish for you that I was his real nana."

Recalling a conversation they had once had on the topic, Erestor
gave Glorfindel a thankful smile and leaned forward to kiss his
lips. "Whoever says you aren't will have his real ada to deal with."

Glorfindel relaxed with a sigh and looked back to the tiny elfling
who continued to drink in earnest. "I do want to be sure he's
weaned by the time he starts teething," said Glorfindel, causing
Erestor to finally laugh for the first time since he had heard the
tiny cries from the porch earlier that evening.

It was still dark when l'il peanut, for he had no real name yet, had
been fed and burped and fed a little more and had fallen asleep
against Glorfindel. It was Erestor who carried the little one to
the bed as the baby's new nana went to clean himself up. Glorfindel
crawled into the bed facing Erestor, the two of them creating a
barrier on either side of the sleeping child. "How is he?"

"Doing better, not so pale. Thank you, Glorfindel. Oh, you're all
red," he remarked as he reached forward, but Glorfindel pulled away
and covered his hand over the marked flesh.

"Mmmmhhnn, don't touch. It's a little sensitive right now."
Resting on his back and leaving the sheet draped over body to his
waist, he said, "Please tell me you aren't thinking of finding his
parents."

"I thought you wanted to find out who they are." Erestor tucked the
blankets up around the little elfling.

Closing his eyes as he yawned, Glorfindel said, "I thought I did,
but- he's our son now, and I don't want anyone to take him away.
I'm very possessive as you may have noticed," he winked as he turned
his head.

"You? I had no idea," Erestor countered, resting his head on his
arms. "I won't seek them out. I promise. Get some rest, I'll stay
awake."

Barely managing to nod his head, Glorfindel drifted into reverie.
Erestor spent the early morning hours deciding that the most
suitable name for the elfling he knew to be reborn was the same name
he had been given his first time in the world.



{Chapter Two}

Gwindor was on the floor with Glorfindel, stacking colorful cubes of
wood and knocking them over only to rebuild them again. On the
couch sat Erestor, watching the scene with thoughtful worry, and
beside him Thranduil, who nursed a glass of brandy. "I've seen many
elflings in my years, and they've all walked by the age of three.
Most of them by a year, and some at a year and a half can sing and
dance, but that was always a little peculiar to observe," said
Thranduil.

"Didn't Legolas take a rather long time?" asked Erestor. Gwindor,
intent on stacking all of the red blocks and nothing else, spied one
a little further away than the others. Reaching forward, he pulled
himself the few feet to retrieve it, his legs dragging behind.

Thranduil's eyes stayed focused on the elfling as he answered, "He
didn't stand until two years and three months, but soon after he was
racing hither and thither. I can't recall how often I had to tell
him not to run through the living quarters when he was younger."

Erestor turned to look at the wall. "I'm a bad father."

"What?" Thranduil set his glass onto the table and edged closer to
his friend. "Erestor, that is a stupid thing to say."

"I've tried everything. Everything I could think of, everything
others suggested- nothing, no change. He still crawls around and I
can't do anything about it." Erestor looked at Gwindor, who had
stopped playing and was watching his ada, a blue block poised to be
placed on his latest wall of blocks. "Are you having fun, ion-nin?"
he asked a little louder.

"Come and play, ada! Nanafin wants you to, too," Gwindor said, his
lisp not as prominent as when he yelled to them when they played
outside. But playing with Gwindor was never quite the same as it
had been with other elflings. Sliding down from the couch, Erestor
leaned forward and handed Gwindor another block. "No, no! Green
ones! Green ones!" he said, pointing to the leaf-colored mound.

Dropping the yellow cube, Erestor used both hands to push the green
blocks closer. Thranduil joined them, sitting down cross-legged
between Erestor and Gwindor. "You're quite a bright young fellow,
knowing the colors of all of these things," he commented. Gwindor
grinned, and the scars on his face looked less frightening as he did
so. "Suppose you tell me, how many blocks do you have here in this
pile?"

"Fourteen."

"You didn't even count, and yet you're certain?" asked Thranduil.

"I have two there, and Nanafin has one. There are seventeen green
blocks, that makes fourteen there," deduced Gwindor.

"Brilliant," remarked the Sinda, and he picked up one of the blue
blocks. "How many sides does one of these have?"

"Eight," answered Gwindor.

Thranduil smiled and said, "I think if you take a closer look,
you'll note it has one, two, three, four, five, and here six, sides
to it."

"It has eight," Gwindor corrected him. "You forgot the inside and
the outside."

"So it does," agreed Thranduil. He set the block down and
asked, "What do you want to be when you're grown?"

"Be?" Gwindor looked confused.

"Be. Do. When you are an adult," prompted Thranduil.

"Oh. I guess I'll be good," answered Gwindor.

Thranduil contemplated this and further pushed the matter. "But
what do you want to do with your life? What job would you like?"

Gwindor started his work on the green part of the wall. "I just
want to be good. The rest I will figure out later."

Shifting his gaze to Erestor, Thranduil said, "When Ilmendin was his
age, he told me he was going to acquire jewels to outshine the
silmarils. With Legolas, he was adamant that he would be a king and
not just a prince. As a father, whatever you're doing, keep doing
it."

- - -

"Fin, knock it off."

"Mmmmhh."

"Glorfindel!" Erestor tugged at the sheet, but quickly realized that
it was being drawn off of him not to the side, but from the bottom
of the bed. Sitting up abruptly, he could now hear something of a
worried sob coming from the floor. "Gwindor?"

Erestor stumbled off of the bed and found the elfling at the foot of
it, one hand clutching the end of the sheet and his other holding
his knee. He was shivering, and when Erestor gathered him into his
arms, he found out he was damp, from sweating and crying and from
what he was crying about.

"I tried to get out of bed, but I fell and then I didn't make it,"
explained Gwindor, but between his tears and his lisp, all Erestor
understood was `bed' and `fell', as he carried the elfling to the
washroom. Behind them trailed the sheet, Gwindor's hand still
holding it.

Sitting Gwindor down on the countertop, Erestor pulled the
nightshirt off of the elfling over his head, loosening the grip he
had on the sheet. "We'll get you cleaned up, and then back to bed."

Looking ready to cry again, Gwindor said, "I mean, I didn't make it
and then I fell." This was more discernable, as was, "I knocked the
chamber pot over, too."

"You can sleep in bed with us, peanut." Glorfindel entered the
room, gathering up the trailing sheet as he made his way to them.
Under his arm he had a fresh shirt for Gwindor and a towel. "If you
get the water ready, I will give him a bath," offered Glorfindel to
Erestor.

Wanting to say, `You just don't want to strip his bed', Erestor
simply nodded. He left Gwindor sitting on the counter as he began
to fill the tub.

"Ada?"

"Yes, peanut?"

"When will you teach me to walk?"

Bowing his head, the tears fell from Erestor's eyes into the basin
as the water flowed into it. "Soon, Gwindor."

"Tomorrow, maybe?" asked the elfling hopefully. "I think I could
learn fast and then I would make it out of bed faster."

Erestor reached down into the water as if he were testing it,
splashing a handful up onto his face. "Maybe tomorrow," replied the
elf, hating himself for the false hope he gave the little one. He
turned to find Gwindor grinning happily at him and smiled back,
holding back his tears. Glorfindel came in again, handing a clean
shirt to Erestor.

"You're a little damp," he whispered, "and I took care of his bed,
if you can manage the floor." To the elfling, Glorfindel
said, "Well, now, shall we find your gulls, or is your toy boat good
enough for right now?"

"Boat," Gwindor decided as he was lifted off of the counter and
lowered into the warm water.

When Glorfindel carried him into the bedroom, the elfling was
jabbering about the sea and the beach and the waves and boats in
between yawns. The minute he was settled in bed, he drifted
asleep. "I propose we stay in bed late tomorrow," Glorfindel said
quietly, raising his hand as if calling for a vote. "All those in
favor? Erestor?" Glorfindel frowned as his arm dropped. "Erestor,
what's wrong?"

Erestor's arms covered his face, his hands fisted in his own
hair. "When are we going to tell him? What are we going to do? I
would carry him for a thousand years, but in five or ten he's not
going to want that. He wants to be normal. How do we tell him he
isn't?"

"Maybe he's not normal, but I wouldn't have him any other way,"
replied Glorfindel with a sigh as he bent down to kiss Gwindor's
head. "As for walking, I told you before what we should do. At the
time, I know you wanted to wait, but I don't think he's going to get
any stronger. I don't think there's anything we can do about
that." Touching Erestor's arm with his hand, he waited until they
were lowered so that he could see his lover's face. "He has to be
able to get around. We need to do what we can for him."

With a nod, Erestor said, "He asked if we could teach him tomorrow."

"Then we shall go to see Olorin tomorrow," said Glorfindel.

- - -

"I don't just keep my balance with it," said Gandalf, his staff
across his knees. He was sitting on a chair outside the house he
had near the hobbit hole that Frodo and Sam shared. Lifting up the
staff, he swung it around, and Erestor had to press back in his seat
or risk being hit. "It makes a handy weapon." To prove his point,
the istar took it in his hand again and swiftly used the end to bonk
Erestor's head, so that those sitting in the clearing, except for
the one who had been hit, laughed.

Rubbing his head, Erestor said, "Olorin's not the only one to use a
walking stick. Our friend Haldir has one, too, doesn't he, Elrond?"

"One here, one at his home, one at the Kastle, although he tends to
grab a stick if it's handier when he needs one," said
Elrond. "We've one here for you to use that's just your size, and
Orophin, you might have remembered him from when you were very
little, he will make them for you as you get bigger so that they
grow while you do."

Gwindor looked unconvincingly at the crutch that was propped up
against Elrond's chair. He was sitting on Glorfindel's lap, but
turned instead to his father. "Did you ever use one, Ada?"

"Yes," Erestor said cautiously, recalling the time he had been
injured when Gondolin fell, and other various mishaps he had had
through the years.

"But not anymore," said Gwindor.

Shaking his head, Erestor took the crutch from where it was and
turned it over in his hands. "No. Not anymore," he said.

"So I will use it until I can walk without it?" he guessed. Erestor
nodded mutely.

"I've always thought," spoke Gandalf, "that having a walking stick
makes one look rather dignified," he said. "And wise," he said with
a wink to the elfling.



{Chapter Three}


The elleth ran up the slope, stumbling on rocks as she did, until
she reached the plateau that overlooked the sea. Over her shoulder,
she could make out the house on the shore with its stupid pink fence
and stupid gardens and stupid elves and stupid rules. She flounced
through the grass until she came to a path that she followed that
led to a grove of peach and apple trees. There was an elf sitting
beneath one of them, leaning against the trunk of a tree and eating
an apple. Seeing no one else around, she walked up to him.

"Mae govannen. I am Lasiavis. Who are you?" she asked.

Looking up from his book, Gwindor blinked at the pretty little
elleth before him. "Gwindor. Pleased to make your acquaintance.
Are you lost?" he asked, not recalling ever having met her, or
anyone else his age for that matter, nor was he used to having
visitors up here in the orchards.

"No, I'm not lost," she sighed. "I'm running away."

"Oh. Running away from what?" wondered Gwindor.

"From home," she said, as if everyone should know exactly what
anyone would be running away from.

"Is something wrong with your home?" he asked, and looking around,
he added, "Where are your parents? Are they running away with you?"

"THEY are the ones I'm running away FROM." Heaving a sigh, she
plopped down on the grass beside him. "They brought me to my
grandparents, but I don't like any of them. They don't let me do
what I want to do. I don't like my other grandparents, either,
except At'ada Thranduil does give me nice gifts."

"I know Thranduil!" said Gwindor excitedly. "He's a friend of
mine! We have had many conversations concerning things of great
importance."

Lasiavis frowned. "Why do you talk funny?" she asked, forgetting
that he was praising one of the relatives she disliked the most.

"I have an accent," he replied. "How far away do you live?"

"I live in the East Dalelands, in the Kastle Village," she said.

"You must be hungry to have run all that way," reasoned
Gwindor. "Would you like an apple?" he asked.

Smiling, Lasiavis nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you." She
watched as Gwindor picked up the stick that was next to him on the
ground and used it to hoist himself up. Balancing with one hand on
the trunk, he raised the stick in the air and aimed it at an apple.
Heaving it straight up, it snapped the stem before falling back,
where he caught it in his open hand. The apple rolled to the ground
next to Lasiavis's leg. "Why do you have a crutch?" she asked.

"A what?" Gwindor propped himself up on the stick, half-balancing on
his right leg, which was the stronger of the two.

"That thing there," she said, pointing as she picked up the apple
with her other hand.

"This is a walking stick," he informed her.

"It looks like a crutch."

"It is a walking stick because it is a stick that I use when I
walk." His voice was calm, but he was beginning to wonder about the
intelligence of this pretty, young girl.

"Well, why do you have it?"

"To... walk with..." Gwindor was wondering if he would have to
demonstrate, but Lasuiavis said, "Oh." and began to eat her apple.

Munching on her apple as Gwindor sat back down next to her, Lasiavis
said, "If you walk with a stick, does that mean you're hurt?"

"No," answered Gwindor. "It means I'm a dignified sort of fellow.
That's what my friend Olorin told me."

"Can you walk without it?" pressed Lasiavis.

"Not really," Gwindor finally replied.

"Why not?"

"Because I need more practice," he answered. He picked at the side
of his stick, looking down at the ground. "Would you like another
apple?" he asked as she finished the first.

She shook her head. "No, thank you."

"I suppose you'll want to start running away again," he said
sadly. "It's a shame, though. I don't have much of anyone my own
age to talk to, and... and you're very pretty," he said.

"Thank you," she said a little awkwardly with a slight
hesitation. "You're... very nice," she finally decided on. Gwindor
beamed.

"Whatever are you running away for, anyway?"

Lasiavis stood up and looked north toward the beach below. "I asked
my Ada if I could ride the pony, and he said no. So I asked my
Nana, who said to ask my Adar, and he said yes. But then my Ada was
upset, and now I'm not allowed to for a week and there is NOTHING to
DO here," she complained. "Everyone is too busy with work. They
have to harvest and won't let me help except boring things in the
kitchen that I don't want to do."

"You should come up here. We don't harvest for another few weeks,
and it's fun when we do! I sit up on my Nanafin's shoulders and-
wait a minute. Your Ada said no and then yes and then got mad?"
wondered Gwindor.

"No! My Ada said no, my Adar said yes. That's another problem. I
have TWO of them," she groaned. "It's most confusing." Gwindor
smirked. "What's so funny?"

"If you want confusing, try this. I have an Ada and a Nana, but
both of them are boys."

"No, they can't be," countered Lasiavis.

Gwindor nodded. "Come! I'll show you!" He pulled himself up, and
with his crutch under one arm, he offered his other to Lasiavis, who
had never had anyone do such a thing, but she delightedly curtseyed
and took hold of his arm. With Gwindor hobbling along, the pair
came to the house. Gwindor motioned that they should be quiet as he
pushed the door open.

"And... what's cooking here?"

There was a sound of metal clanking back onto metal. "Don't.
You'll ruin it."

"I'm not going to ruin it, I'm just going to taste it," protested
the deeper voice.

The second voice was ignoring the first. "Where is... I need more
sugar..." he mumbled. The sound of someone walking away could be
heard followed by a call of "Don't touch it!"

Gwindor and Lasiavis peeked around the corner into the kitchen to
see a tall, dark elf glancing over his shoulder as he cautiously
lifted the lid off of a pot and dipped his little finger in.
Suddenly, another elf came back around the corner, humming and
carrying a clay jar. "Ress!"

"That's my Ada," whispered Gwindor as he pointed out Erestor, who
dropped the lid and slurped the orangey syrup from his finger. "And
my Nana is the other one."

"But he's a boy!" she hissed.

"Well, he's still my Nana."

Glorfindel lifted the lid quickly and peered down inside. "You're
just... lucky is what you are," he scolded Erestor, who was washing
his hand of any remaining evidence.

"Ada? Nanafin?" Gwindor came around the corner fully now, with
Lasiavis behind him. "I want you to meet my friend, Lasiavis.
Could she stay for dinner? She's running away from home." The
elleth buried her face in her hands as soon as the last sentence was
out of Gwindor's mouth.

Glorfindel and Erestor exchanged quick glances. "Well, of course
your friend can stay," said Glorfindel. "I'll set another place.
Erestor, perhaps you would be able to go out and fetch me a pair of
eggs from the barn." Erestor nodded and left out the back way.

"So, Lasiavis, why are you running away from home?" asked Glorfindel
as he took another plate out of the cabinet.

"Just... because..." she said with a shrug.

"Oh. I see," he said. Behind him, Gwindor gave Lasiavis a confused
look, and she hushed him. Unsure why she didn't want to share her
reasons with everyone else, Gwindor managed to get himself to the
table and to sit down, but only after he pulled out the chair for
Lasiavis, waited for her to sit, and pushed it gently back in.

Glorfindel set a bowl of chopped vegetables and some sort of dish
that had noodles and sauce down in the middle of the table.
Glancing toward the door, he said, "Your Ada will be back soon,
Gwindor. Now, Lasiavis... running away... you didn't seem to say
why," he said. When she only fidgeted in her chair, he asked, "Does
one of your parents dislike you?"

"They all dislike me," she said with a pout.

"Do they beat you?"

Lasiavis looked up with wide eyes, and Gwindor looked
confused. "NO! Never! What kind of elf would beat their children?"

"I don't know, I'm just trying to understand why you're running
away," Glorfindel said softly. "Do they yell at you? Call you
names? Tell you how they wish you had never been born?"

Both of the elflings looked horrified. "No, they've never done
that! They love me!"

"I thought they disliked you," said Glorfindel, feigning confusion.

"I..." Lasiavis did not have time to finish as Erestor entered the
cottage.

"Sorry about that," Erestor said. "Shall we eat?" The elflings were
both too shocked by Glorfindel's words notice that Erestor did not
bring back any eggs with him.

As the meal was nearing the end, there was a knock on the door. "I
wonder who that could be," spoke Erestor, hastily getting up from
the table. Into the house came Legolas and Elodien, looking as if
they had just jumped off of their horses onto the front porch.

Elodien reached Lasiavis first, scooping her off of the chair and
into her arms. "Sweetie, don't ever scare us like this again!
We've been so worried about you!" Lasiavis mumbled something
against her mother, who loosened her hold. "I know, I know, but you
do understand why your Ada didn't want you to ride the horses, don't
you? No one was there to watch. Those horses aren't like the
ponies your At'ada has, if you fell off you could be very badly
hurt!"

Legolas had slowly approached and was standing beside Elodien now.
Lasiavis looked up at her stern-faced Ada and her lip began to
quiver. As soon as Legolas held his arms open to her, she
practically leapt into them and started sniffling, burying her
face. "I'm sorry we've disturbed your meal," apologized Legolas,
but Erestor shook his head.

"Think nothing of it. She is welcome here at any time, as are
you." Erestor took the ellethling's hand and squeezed it. "It was
very nice to meet you, Lasiavis," he said. She nodded and mumbled
something back and then looked over and waved at Gwindor, who
returned the gesture with a smile.

As they were leaving, the wind carried back the conversation on the
porch. "Perhaps it would be a good thing to have them interact.
Gwindor really hasn't been with others his age."

"Lasiavis, either," admitted Legolas.

"Ada? What's wrong with him?" asked Lasiavis as the door closed
behind them.

"With who?"

"Gwindor can't walk. What's wrong with..." the shut door drowned
out the rest, but Gwindor had already heard enough of it.

So had Glorfindel, but his reaction was not as swift as he made an
attempt to grab Gwindor's arm as he limped swiftly away from the
table. "Gwindor!"

"I'm not hungry!" he shouted as he dropped his crutch and used the
banister to hoist himself up the stairs, a far faster way to climb
them as he had long ago learned.

Erestor reentered the room cursing, not having to be told what had
happened. "His room?"

"I assume so," sighed Glorfindel as Erestor ran up the stairs.

Erestor rapped on the door with his knuckles twice before he was
told to "Go Away!". The third time, he could tell that something
had been thrown across the room against the door. "Gwindor, please
let me come in. I want to be sure you're alright."

"I'm fine! I want to be left alone!"

"Gwindor-"

"Good night! I'm going to sleep now!"

Erestor slid down to sit against the wall beside the door, listening
for any sounds that would make him force the door open, but it
sounded as if Gwindor had thrown some things around and then thrown
himself onto his bed to sleep. It wasn't long before Glorfindel
walked up the darkening stairway.

"Are you going to sleep here in the hall?" he asked, offering his
hand to Erestor. Shaking his head, Erestor allowed himself to be
helped up onto his feet.

"Everything will work out in the end," the golden haired elf said as
the pair entered their own room. "He just needs time." Glorfindel
coaxed Erestor to change for the evening as the bed was turned
down. When Erestor came back from the washroom, he found Glorfindel
sitting at the desk staring at his folded hands.

"Are you alright?" Erestor asked, putting a hand on Glorfindel's
shoulder.

Giving a small smile, Glorfindel said, "I've just been thinking
about my father this evening. When she said she was running away, I
started to recall what made me flee Beleriand." Erestor sat down on
the bench beside Glorfindel and started to unbraid the golden
hair. "The last few years, when he began to suspect were the
hardest. He would find reasons to hit me. I swear barely a day
passed that he didn't backhand me across the face or beat me with
his belt. Sometimes he would break a switch off a tree and whip me
before the bruises and welts from the day before had healed. When
he found out... when I told him, that is, I ran without even
thinking. Do you think I was wrong?"

Absently picking up the hairbrush, Erestor began to work the snarls
from the ends of Glorfindel's mane. "If you'd have stayed, well,
you couldn't have known what he would have done."

"Look at the mess I landed in. One thing I knew is that my father
would not have killed me -- but Turgon was a different matter. I'd
have been put to death, and it was only Ecthelion who kept me in
check."

"How old were you when you ran away?" asked Erestor, gathering
Glorfindel's hair at the back of his neck and tying it off.

"Forty-five. I turned Forty-six not quite two weeks after I took an
oath of fealty to Ecthelion's House. I told him I was three hundred
and forty-five, but he knew. Funny, how he was more like a father
to me than my own father was."

"I suppose unconditional love runs in your family, then," smiled
Erestor, and Glorfindel smiled back.

- - -

"Gwindor's not come back yet," said Glorfindel in a worried voice as
he suddenly noted the time. Erestor had just come in the door,
having returned from the gardens for the day, and looked around in
alarm.

"Are you sure?" Erestor went to the stairs. "Gwindor!" When there
was no answer, he headed for the door. "Where was he last?"

"Probably in the orchard," called Glorfindel as the door shut. "He
couldn't have gotten far," he mumbled to himself.

Continuing to call for him, Erestor finally found the child sprawled
in the grass, growling and hitting the ground hard between tears.
Looking around, Erestor saw that the walking stick he had was
nearby, but had hit a rock and splintered. Kneeling down, he began
to draw Gwindor into his arms.

"No! Get away!" Gwindor pulled back, floundering over onto his
side. "Don't touch me!"

"I just want to help you," Erestor said in a panicked
voice. "Please, let me-"

"No! Leave me alone!" Gwindor used his arms to move himself
backwards. "I don't want help! I don't want pity! I don't want
help from you!" He picked up the crutch and began to beat it
against the ground, pieces of it flying as they broke off. "I
don't! Want! This!"

Stopping when there wasn't anything left but a handful of wood,
Gwindor broke into sobs again, the remnants dropping from his
hand. "Why am I so ugly? What did I do?" He kept asking it, over
and over as Erestor slowly approached him and enfolded him in his
arms, rocking them both until Gwindor fell limp against him. "Ada,
I don't want this."

"If I," said Erestor, lifting up Gwindor's chin with his
hand, "could take your pain, if I," he said, putting his hand on
Gwindor's thin, twisted leg, "could take this, if I could be the one
in your place, I damn well would. I would do anything I could to
make you better, if it were in my power."

"I know." Gwindor hiccupped. "I'm sorry, Ada."

"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about," he said, sniffling. "We
will fight this and find a way to win, alright?" Gwindor
shrugged. "Look at me, peanut," he said, making Gwindor smile a
little. "We'll do this. You and me."

"And Nanafin," he added.

"Well, we can't leave him out of anything. He's too quick, and he'd
pout about it." Erestor's words made Gwindor smile. "He's made
dinner. Are you hungry?"

"I guess," said Gwindor, shifting his gaze to the broken stick he
had used.

"Come on, I'll help you up," offered Erestor, but Gwindor hesitated.

Heaving a sigh, he said, "I... think I hurt my ankle. Can- would-"

"You don't have to feel bad about asking me, I like to carry you,
when you let me." Erestor lifted Gwindor up into his arms and told
him, "It makes me feel useful in my old age."



{Chapter Four}

"What's his name?" asked Gwindor.

"Ilmendin named him Skyrocket after those fireworks that Mithrandir
shoots up into the air. He's playful and jumpy, but if you're
riding him, he's as gentle as a lamb." Thranduil gave a simple
command with his hand, and the horse immediately stooped down,
folding his legs under him. "Go ahead and lift yourself up onto the
saddle," he said.

A few feet away, Erestor stepped forward to help Gwindor, but
Glorfindel pulled him back. Reaching behind his back to thread his
fingers with Glorfindel's, Erestor painfully watched as Gwindor made
two failed attempts at mounting the horse before his third was
successful. He let out a breath of relief as the gentle creature
rose back up again.

"How's the view?" asked Thranduil.

"This is incredible!" Gwindor looked around, surveying the
land. "When can we make him move?"

"Just tell him where you want to go," said Thranduil. "He's of the
blood of Shadowfax, of Nahar before him. Your wish is his command."

As Gwindor experimented with his newfound freedom, Erestor and
Glorfindel began to voice their thanks to Thranduil. Shaking his
head, he smiled at them and said, "That look, when he saw everything
that was open to him-" Tears formed in Thranduil's eyes, and his
voice changed in tone. "You know him as your son, but I knew him
better as the elf he was. There are elves who fight great wars, and
fell great beasts, and I think no less of them. But he of all I
knew took the forefront of every battle he was in, and Morgoth
trembled to hear him come. He deserves this," said Thranduil, and
the other two bowed their heads in agreement.

- - -

Across the field, Erestor explained the rules of the competition
from his mount, pointing out the posts that needed to be reached and
the obstacles along the path. Elrond was readying a flag: His own
sons had their horses to the line and sped off as soon as Erestor
drew back from the riders and the signal was given. Neither they
nor the others could match the speed of the rider upon the frisky
cream-colored horse that bolted to the marks, leaping around them as
fleet-footed as a deer. Halfway through the race, some of the
contestants were pulling their mounts aside, more interested in
watching the way in which the lead horse and rider moved as one
around the posts. Only the first ten would partake in the later
race, but it was clear who would have the starting position.

"Who is that?" questioned Haldir as the competitors brought their
horses across the line again. Glorfindel smiled proudly as Erestor
walked Nahar to each of the top finishers, doubling back to the very
first elf to cross the line. The silver-haired elf did not dismount
as the other riders had, instead reached over and embraced Erestor
while still on horseback.

"Do you not recall Gwindor, my son?" Glorfindel asked, watching as
the young elf steadied himself upon his mount. "It seems so long
now since the day he first arrived, especially to look at him now in
his fortieth year."

"Forty already? Ah, but then, Lasiavis is forty-three by my count,
and nearly the day will come that she will..." Haldir sighed. "It is
a difficult thing, to be a parent of an elf reborn. It was not easy
for Belegar when his memories came back."

Glorfindel shook his head. "I can not imagine that it was. It will
be hard on Gwindor and Lasiavis as well. Odd as the circumstances
were of my return, I thank the Valar my memories were not taken,
even temporarily. I do not think I would have handled the sudden
onslaught to my mind, especially of my death, with as much grace as
other reborn elves have."

Haldir snorted. "Belegar did not take it with grace," recalled the
Lorien elf. "I can only hope his sister takes the news better than
he."

- - -

"You bastard! You ass!" Lasiavis pulled away from Haldir and
launched herself at Belegar, shoving him into the wall. His head
snapped forward after hitting the wood, and Legolas tried to place
himself between the pair. It was ineffective, for Lasiavis seemed
to have gained some immeasurable strength, and clawed past her
father, striking her brother again and again until Haldir was able
to restrain her with Elodien's assistance, and Legolas held fast to
Belegar's arm.

Everything began to pour out at once. "You were such a brat,
teasing poor little Celeborn and picking on Thranduil and Avisiel,
you beast, you deserved what the orcs did to you, Halmir! You and
Gildor both, you should be ashamed! It's too bad they didn't hang
him, too! I hate you!"

"Some sister you are, you'd have thrown me to the orcs, wouldn't you
Finduilas?" sneered the other young elf. "What about you?" he
shouted in his fury, built of years of being kept silent while his
sister regained her memory of years long past. "Look at what you
did to Gwindor -- threw him away for some lousy mortal, then you
played him along, and he stuck to your side like a little dog who is
kicked again and again and returns for the scraps from the table."

"You lie! I loved him!" she snarled, trying to free herself.

"You loved his power, his fair face, but you did not love HIM. You
said so! I heard you!"

"Stop!" she yelled, tears filling her eyes.

"I heard what you said! `Better he be dead and the beauty of his
spirit rest in Mandos-"

"Stop it! Shut up!"

"-than it be trapped in a form so gruesome to look upon it makes me
ill.' Those were your words! You said them!"

"Stop it. Now." Haldir's voice rose over the sobbing and the
shouting and he said, "It is futile to dwell on that past. You have
a future to look forward to, given to you by the grace of the Valar."

Belegar pulled away from Legolas. "I don't have to listen to this.
You're not my father," he snapped at Haldir, "and you barely count,"
he added to Legolas before running up the stairs and slamming his
door.

Letting go of Lasiavis, who slumped into Elodien's arms, exhausted
and crying, Haldir began to walk up the stairs but Legolas stopped
him. "He didn't mean it. He just needs time to adjust to this.
Time, Haldir, now that he doesn't have to keep it from Lasiavis."

"Finduilas," came a muffled voice. "My name is Finduilas."

With a nod, Legolas stepped over and stroked Finduilas's
head. "Yes, it is, sweetheart."

"Adar, can you take me to see Gwindor?"

"Absolutely," said Legolas without hesitation, but Finduilas stepped
away from Elodien and reached her hand over to Haldir.

"Adar, can you take me to see Gwindor?" she repeated.

Haldir nodded. "Of course."

- - -

"He is... fragile," Glorfindel finally settled upon. He waited
until Finduilas looked up at him from across the table and
nodded. "Obviously, I wasn't there to find out firsthand what
happened between the two of you in Doriath, but Erestor has told me
quite enough of it, I think. We knew this would happen, that this
day would come, and that you would come here to see him. I am sorry
to tell you that I cannot allow that."

Tears threatened to fall from Finduilas's eyes as she looked to
Haldir, in hopes he would try to convince Glorfindel otherwise.
Haldir's jaw was set, and he said nothing. "But, I love him!"
Finduilas argued. Hugging her arms around herself, her lips
trembled and she said, "You can't keep me from him."

Glorfindel's sigh was labored and he said, "No, I suppose I will not
be able to do that -- but think of what is best for both of you. He
has no recollection of what happened, of his brother, or of you.
Think of how terrible it would be for him to have this put upon
him. To be made to remember. How would it have been for you, had
Halmir forced you to recall your past life, your past death." He
did not continue, for the door swung open and laughter followed.

"One day, Ada, Skyrocket and I shall beat you and Thay," promised
Gwindor as he hobbled through the doorway, using his walking stick
on the rail alongside the door to aid him. Erestor, who was holding
the door open with one hand, a bushel of apples tucked under the
other, shook his head adamantly with a smile.

"My horse," he bragged, "is faster than Nahar."

"Oh, no," argued his son, waving a finger into the air. "I have
seen Nanafin race that stallion over the fields, a blur of white and
gold. Your horse is fast; but Nahar is faster."

"Nahar cheats," Erestor said quickly. "He's been cheating at
everything -- racing and jumping and cards and-"

"Horses don't play cards!" Gwindor laughed as his father went on to
add sailing, painting, and cooking to the list. "I think Nanafin
isn't the silly one, I think you're the one- who-" The pair stopped
as they rounded the corner to find Glorfindel standing up, and
trying his best to look cheerful. There were two elves with their
backs to them, and Gwindor immediately furrowed his brow. "What's
wrong?"

"Gwindor, here, take these..." Erestor shot a look to the kitchen
for a moment, and then in desperation said, "Take these back
outside, they will keep better out there." It clearly pained
Erestor to open the door again and watch Gwindor struggle to carry
the basket outside, confused and a little upset. "Around to the
back, please, thank you, ion-nin." Erestor shut the door quickly
and briskly walked up to Finduilas. "You must go. Now."

Letting out a panicked gasp, Finduilas gripped the seat of her chair
tightly. "No. No, I will not go."

"It is not the time for him to know yet, and I will not have him to
find out in such a way," hissed Erestor. "Finduilas, it is not my
desire to send you away like this, but this cannot be forced upon
him."

"I won't. I won't tell him anything," she said. "Let me- just
allow me to stay here, please!" Leaping out of her chair, she threw
herself down at Erestor's feet, clutching his ankles. "I know, I
know I did terrible things to him, but please, please, please let me
make it up in what ways I can. Let me be here, here for him when he
does remember, here for him as I should have been there for him when
I was not." Her tears poured over her cheeks, raining down upon
Erestor's grass-stained feet, and he bent down to gather her into
his arms and stand her back up again.

Taking a deep breath and waiting to speak until Haldir came to
comfort Finduilas as well, Erestor said, "I will take your word that
you will not reveal to him anything of the past, if we allow you to
stay here. As an apprentice, so that Gwindor is not put off by it,
and as Lasiavis, so that nothing is revealed."

Finduilas nodded and wiped away her tears. "As your apprentice?"

"As Glorfindel's apprentice," Erestor said after a pause.

"I'm sorry, darling, I could have sworn you just named me,"
Glorfindel said from but a few feet away.

"That I did."

"Now why in Arda would you do that?" questioned Glorfindel, who
seemed as confused as both Haldir and Lasiavis. The sound of
Gwindor trying to open the door made Erestor dash for it and
apologetically help his son into the house.

"Gwindor, I am so sorry, I needed to take care of -- well, what it
is, ion-nin, is that we shall have a boarder for the next few years,
and I had not expected her to arrive so soon." Erestor motioned for
Gwindor to come with him, and helped him into the sitting
room. "Gwindor, this is Lasiavis, you may remember her from quite a
few years ago. This is Haldir, her other father -- Lasiavis will be
staying with us for a little while."

"Why?" asked Gwindor suspiciously.

"Well, your mother has taken Lasiavis on as an apprentice, to
learn..." Erestor looked to Glorfindel, who merely blinked.

"Cooking," said Haldir.

"Cooking," repeated Glorfindel.

`Cooking?' Finduilas mouthed to her father, who simply and
discretely shrugged.

Erestor closed his eyes, but then opened them and smiled at
Gwindor. "Yes, cooking. Among other things," he answered, sneaking
a glare at both Haldir and Glorfindel.

Gwindor did not return the friendly smile from Finduilas. Instead,
he limped to the door and made his way as fast as he could back
outside. Erestor followed, catching his son by the shoulders before
he fell. "Ion-nin, what's wrong?"

"Send her away!" shouted Gwindor. "I don't want her living here!"

"Ion-nin, why? What is wrong?"

"She doesn't like me. She stares at me in public, as if everyone
cannot already see something is the matter with me, she draws the
attention to me. She doesn't like me, and I do not like her very
much, either," admitted Gwindor. "Please, Ada, tell her to go."

Drawing his son into his arms, Erestor whispered to him, "Sometimes,
Peanut, we have to do things we don't want to do. That which does
not kill us will serve to make us stronger. It is difficult for me
as well, but Haldir is a friend and cousin to Glorfindel. It was
many years since you have seen her; perhaps she has changed?
Perhaps you might give her that chance?"

Gwindor clung to Erestor a little while longer, then stood up best
he could and squared his shoulders. He flipped the hair out of his
face, for it had become habit for him to let it drape over the
wicked deformation. "Fine. I will do my best."

"It is all I ask," replied Erestor.

Nodding, Gwindor asked, "May I be excused for the night? I would
like to be alone." Erestor nodded, leaning numbly against the
doorway as Gwindor struggled down the stairs and back to the stables.

Inside, Finduilas bit her hand as she wept. Haldir placed his hands
upon her shoulders and said to her, "My dear, your road is not an
easy path. There is much you will need to learn."




[Chapter Five]


Folding his napkin and placing it beside his plate, Gwindor turned
to Glorfindel and said, "Dinner was wonderful, Nanafin. I never
thought plain rolls could taste better, but they did tonight."

"Thank Lasiavis- it was she who made them," explained Glorfindel.

Gwindor's face fell. "I see," he said softly.

"Gwindor." Erestor's voice was very quiet, but very stern. He
looked from his son to Finduilas, who sat with her hands in her lap
now, across the table from Gwindor. There was a hint of a frown on
her face, and Erestor looked back at his son again without saying
anything more.

"The rolls were very good, Lasiavis." His words barely made it
through his clenched teeth.

A little smile was given to him, and she looked up. "Thank you,
Gwindor. I made the pie for desert. It's blueberry."

Nudging his napkin forward, Gwindor leaned down to pick up the
walking stick from the floor. "I find I have overindulged. May I
be excused, Ada?"

"Yes, of course." Erestor sipped from his goblet, turning to watch
Gwindor make his way to the stairs. Once the sounds of his ascent
drifted away from them and were followed by his door being closed,
Finduilas set down her own napkin on the table. "Yes, you are
excused as well," said Erestor before Finduilas could open her
mouth. She gave him a nod and followed the way Gwindor had gone,
but her footsteps went in the opposite direction before the closing
of a door was heard.

"How odd. He has not asked you for permission to leave since
reaching his majority," observed Glorfindel.

Erestor played with his goblet as it rested between his fingers
before drinking from it again. "I wish I knew what to do to ease
this animosity he has towards her."

"All that needs to happen is for him to regain his memories,"
reasoned Glorfindel quietly. "Once that happens, we shall have no
problems at all; he shall sweep her into his arms and they will live
happily together forever."

"But why have his memories not returned?" Erestor shook his
head. "He should have regained them years ago. No, Fin, I think he
needs to accept her again before everything simply falls into place."

Glorfindel shrugged. "Suit yourself. I still think all it will
take is that little memory jog and-" Glorfindel snapped his fingers.

"Just like that, eh?" Erestor smiled into his goblet as he
drank. "Just-" >SNAP< "-that easy. Just whom are you basing your-"
>SNAP< "-theory on, hmm? Surely not us, so I am curious just how
you discovered it."

With a smirk, Glorfindel wagged his finger at Erestor. "Just you
wait and watch and see, darling."

- - -

Yawning and trying to focus his eyes, Gwindor blinked and tried to
stay awake. He flipped over onto his back, shaking out the wrist
that had fallen asleep on him. Only five more pages until the end
of the chapter, and then he would turn in for the night. His
candles were growing dim, and this had been the third chapter he had
made this decision.

"Good night, ion." Erestor gave his son a wave as he passed by the
doorway on the way to his own room.

Gwindor shook his limp wrist towards the door and flexed his
fingers. "Night," he called in the direction of the door.

As Glorfindel came up the stairway, he blew out the candles in his
path. Entering Gwindor's room, he extinguished the one at the
entry, but left the next two alone until he reached the bed. "Past
midnight, peanut. Are you going to keep reading?"

"I want to. Do you mind? Will it keep you awake?" asked
Gwindor. "I could close my door if the light is bothering
everyone," he added as Glorfindel sat down on the edge of his bed
and shook his head with a smile.

"No, no reason for that." Glorfindel pulled the blanket up a little
and bent down to kiss Gwindor's head. "Ten minutes, and then the
lights go out, alright?"

"Yes, Nanafin."

"I just don't want the house burning down."

"Yes, Nanafin."

"Good night, Gwindor." Glorfindel stood up to leave, but Gwindor
reached his arms up, and Glorfindel stepped back to hug
him. "Alright, fifteen minutes, but that is IT."

Grin. "Good night, Nanafin."

"Good night." Glorfindel left the room, closing the door halfway to
allow Gwindor a bit more privacy if he wished it.

Lounging on his back, Gwindor lifted the book up and started to read
again, promptly falling asleep after rereading the last twelve words
he had on the previous page. He awoke again as he felt his book
being removed from his hand. The candles had all nearly burned down
to the ends of their wicks, so he had to squint to see anything in
the darkness. "Nanafin?"

"Shhh." It was not his mother, but a feminine voice that
answered. "Go back to sleep."

"Auntie?" The voice didn't sound like his Great-aunt Galadriel's,
nor did he recall her being around at all, but it was the only
female who had ever tucked him into bed before, as this one was
doing now.

"Shhh, no, tis Lasiavis. Go back to sleep," she said again as she
fluffed his pillow and then repositioned him so that he was resting
better. The book was placed on the table, but only after the page
had been marked. Gwindor watched her through bleary eyes as she
tidied her way about the room, pushing in the desk chair and blowing
out the candles. At the door, she turned around and motioned him to
rest. "Good night, Gwindor."

"G-good night, Lasiavis," he said, feeling a mixture of bewilderment
and something very strange indeed.




[Chapter Six]

Harvesting season was the most exhausting time of the year.
Finduilas had never expected that she would be subjected to any real
sort of laboring during her `apprenticeship' with Glorfindel, but
preserving came close. Not only were there fruits to peel and
process into various jams or dessert fillings, but a large quantity
of the tomatoes from the First Homely House's fields were brought to
the cottage to be boiled or pickled and preserved as well.

It began with the washing, for although the glass containers that
were used to pack the preserves into were washed by the family who
had received the last jar of whatever went into it, they sat stored
either in the barn or in one of the sheds at the homely house as
they were returned to be reused. Everything had to be cleaned
again, and set out in the sun to dry. Some of the containers were
very large, and made of clay. Because of their size and crafting --
for it was Elrond who made most of them and Celebrian who painted
them -- many were not returned, and so more needed to be produced of
these items.

Once the containers were all ready, the harvesting had already
begun. Erestor and Gwindor, with the aide of young ellin sent by
their parents for the summer to learn about the cultivation of crops
and their harvesting, would methodically go through the orchard.
Each tree would be climbed by two or three of the lads who would
toss the fruit down to an equal number of elves on the ground who
would catch it and pack it in wooden crates to be taken back to the
house, where Glorfindel and Finduilas would be in the yard, peeling
apples, peaches, and pears, pitting them along with the cherries,
slicing them up, and the strawberries, too. Once the tomatoes
arrived, they would need to boil and skin them.

The fruit would be made into whatever it was to become in large pots
half the size of an elf, and then ladled into the right type of
container. These had metal covers that fit over the top and were
sealed with wax, then packed back into the crates and stored until
everything was completed. The very last thing was for the orders to
be filled. This, Glorfindel did, with Erestor simply being directed
as to what boxes items that were handed to him should go. They
finished with a feast before sending the workers home- each of them
would take their horse and make deliveries along the way, thus
eliminating anyone from the cottage or the house having to make the
trips.

Erestor called it `Production in Mass', and was quite proud of the
streamlined process. No one else in Valinor seemed to much notice
or try to convert to his system, however, no other farm in Valinor
produced so much with so few workers in such a small area of land.
Finduilas thought many times she would rather be on one of these
lazier farms, but then, Gwindor was not on some other farm.

The day after was one of rest, and no one woke before noon. When
they did, Glorfindel and Erestor would spend the entire day in the
living room, with a fire burning and the information on that year's
harvest. Tired as she was from the work the previous few weeks,
Finduilas would offer to make the evening meal. This had now become
a tradition, for before she came, they would all simply snack on
whatever they could find. Arguing that they needed a proper meal,
Finduilas took the task upon herself. Gwindor would spend the day
in the fields, collecting whatever remaining fruit might have been
missed.

That evening was always a private sort of holiday for the four of
them. They would dress like royalty, discarding the comfortable
clothing usually worn in the kitchen or the orchard. Wonderful
dishes would be brought to the table one at a time, and always there
was one that was brand new to try. Only candlelight would be used,
not the harsh light of the lanterns, and there would be a few
bottles of very good wine passed around the table. They drank
themselves silly, and then in fits of giggles would make it to bed.

"Cheers!" Glorfindel clinked his glass against Erestor's even as it
was being filled, and received a half-serious scornful look from the
dark-haired elf as red liquid ran down the stem and puddled around
the base of the glass. The blond was already congratulating
Gwindor, who had raised his goblet up, and then, he ended by tapping
it to the edge of Finduilas'.

After mopping up the spilled wine with a damp rag from the kitchen,
Erestor sat down with a sigh. "I may not make it to dessert
tonight," he apologized. "Those vegetable pies were just too good
not to have a second."

"You had four, Ada!" laughed Gwindor, and Erestor shrugged with a
smirk on his face. "They were delicious, Lasiavis," he commended as
well. Across the table, she beamed, unable to come up with a reply,
and so she blushed and bowed her head. "You need not be modest-
they were great!"

"It... it was just an old recipe I tried," she stammered. "Just
something I thought you might like."

Erestor gave her a knowing look; it was indeed an old recipe, one
from the days of Doriath, and one which Gwindor in his first life
had been more than fond of. Finduilas took a deep breath and then
smiled. "We have pie for dessert," she announced. "Apple-raisin,
and Blueberry-peach."

"Oh, my... how will I manage dessert, too?" pondered Erestor with a
slight smile. "I think... I will have..."

"Both," snorted Glorfindel. "Might as well just give him a slice of
each, because he'll never make up his mind."

"With extra cream, if you have whipped any," called out Erestor as
Finduilas stood up and walked to the kitchen only a few feet away.

"I have," she confirmed, holding up the bowl that was on the counter.

"Gobs of it, then," said Erestor. "So that you cannot even see the
pie."

Gwindor laughed. "Then whatever is the point?"

"Exactly. That is the point," smirked Glorfindel, refilling his
wineglass. A knock sounded upon the door, and Erestor looked at
Glorfindel with confusion. Glorfindel shrugged and began to stand
up, but Gwindor was already reaching for his walking stick.

"Let me. I am curious to see who it is." Gwindor swiveled around
to look over the high counter that separated the kitchen from the
dining area and leaned over best he could. "I just wanted to tell
you, that dinner was excellent, Finduilas."

"Thank-" Finduilas looked up abruptly. "What did you say?"

"I... said..." Gwindor blinked and looked off to the side,
perplexed. Erestor stood up suddenly, realizing what had just
happened, but Glorfindel held onto his wrist to keep him from
advancing.

The knock came upon the door again, more insistently this time.

"I'll get it," offered Erestor, walking between Gwindor and
Finduilas, who were now staring at one another. Glorfindel was
slowly standing up as Erestor took hold of the handle and pulled the
door open. He tightened his grip, afraid that he would otherwise
slam it shut. "Well, my word..."

"Erestor?" The others in the cottage could only hear their
unexpected guest. "Erestor, my goodness, it is you! I prayed the
Valar whoever lived here would be someone kind and... well, my
prayers were answered. I am sure you know why I have come, and I
make my most sincere apologies it was not sooner."

"Guilin, I can... hardly imagine, I... excuse me, my manners are
lacking tonight, the wine..." And Erestor left it at that, opening
the door wider and moving to the side. "Welcome to our home,
Guilin. It is a blessing to see you alive and well."

And when Guilin stepped into the house, the dam that held back the
many memories of Gwindor's past life broke. Everything began to
flood back, and he could not keep up with the thoughts invading his
mind. He looked from Finduilas, to the ellon standing near the
door, to Erestor, and to Finduilas again. With a smile nearly too
wide for his face, he let go of the cane, hobbling around the
counter to his long lost love. "My darling, my beautiful Faelivrin,
my love." Theirs was a tearful embrace, the wooden spoon left
forgotten on the counter, the cream bowl knocked askew to the floor.

Erestor began to step forward, but he stepped aside as Guilin nearly
knocked into him. The old elf's knuckles turned while as his
fingers tightened around the door handle. In the kitchen, the
reunion continued. Glorfindel managed to catch Erestor's gaze,
beckoning him to come back to the table. Reluctantly, Erestor
closed the door and did so.

Breaking away from the lovers in the kitchen, Guilin took hold of
Erestor's hand and shook it fiercely. "I cannot thank you enough
for all that I know you have done. My wife, when he was born, she
could not bear the mental anguish. She blamed herself; she was
inconsolable. I could not take care of both her and my son. So I
left with him, riding out into the night, hoping to find someone who
could see to his needs until she was right again."

"After going to a number of our friends, and being turned away, I
lost my way in Orome's blessed forest. There was a spirit there,
something of goodness and light, a maia, a vala, perhaps, I know not
what, that led me here. It was with great anguish that I left him,
but she told me things would be well," explained Guilin.

"She?" questioned Erestor.

"The voice in my head, well, it sounded like a she. I just had to
believe... and my wife, aiya, such pain she was in." Guilin looked
to Gwindor and Finduilas, happiness evident in his
expression. "Look at them. So happy together- terrible it took so
long-"

"What made you decide to return tonight?" asked Erestor abruptly.
Guilin turned back with a frown. "Sorry, I am just curious. It has
been near a hundred years; I merely wondered."

"That same voice." Guilin paused, then said, "Every time I would
think to come, she would tell me, `Not yet', but then, three days
ago, she said to come back, that now was the time. I came as soon
as I could. I rode all day and all night."

Glorfindel cleared his throat and stepped forward. "You must be
tired. May we offer you food? There is still quite a lot left from
supper, and dessert now."

"Oh! I forgot about the dessert!" exclaimed Finduilas, and no one
could help but laugh at this.

"It is to be expected -- I forgot about dessert, too," admitted
Gwindor, his arms still tightly around her waist, partly for not
wishing to let her go, and partly for keeping his own balance.

"I would be honored to partake in your hospitality, Erestor- that
is, if your wife does not object. Where is she, if I may ask?
Turned in for the night?" Guilin's face fell as everyone shifted
uncomfortably. "Sorry, something I said?"

"Someone should have made introductions. Allow me to do so," spoke
Gwindor. "Adar, I would like you to meet my Nana, well, my Nanafin
I call him, but everyone else calls him Glorfindel. Nanafin, my,
well, it seems odd to say `my other Adar'-"

"Thank you, Gwindor, I do know whom this is," said Glorfindel.
Holding out his hand, he offered his own greetings.

"Ah, I-" Guilin steered the conversation, looking to Erestor. "I
see I have assumed too much. I thought, since you once were with
Artanis, that... well, I suppose that... well, leopards really do
change their spots sometimes, don't they? Does that still make him
your wife?"

Again, Glorfindel cleared his throat, lowering his hand. "No, it
does not."

"Ah. I see." Guilin looked away uneasily, and focused his
attention back upon the pair of happy elves in the
kitchen. "Finally. I have waited so long for this. It will be
wonderful, for them to be married. Finally."

"And as soon as is possible," Gwindor added, nuzzling his nose
against Finduilas's, causing her to giggle.

"Well... well, I suppose now is as good a time as any to mention
it," said Erestor. "Some time ago, Finduilas, your grandfather
mentioned that, if there was to be a wedding, he would gladly offer
his inn for the affair."

"At'ada Thranduil is always so generous," she said absently, kissing
the tip of Gwindor's nose, and making the young ellon blush. "Does
anyone still want pie?"

Gwindor snorted. "Here," he said, lifting the pies onto the upper
counter, one after the other. "Ada, may we be excused?" he asked.

There was an awkward bit of time, wherein neither Erestor nor Guilin
knew who was to be the one to answer. Finally, Glorfindel said
loudly, "Go ahead, Gwindor. You're both excused."

Fast as they were able, the pair headed out the back door, likely to
the gardens, or to some other equally romantic place outside. The
trio inside looked at each other uneasily. Glorfindel walked to the
counter, picking up the apple pie. "Anyone care for a piece?"

"Absolutely. I'm famished!" announced Guilin.

Glorfindel cut a slice for their guest, and then placed another onto
a plate for Erestor, but as he handed it towards him, it was pushed
back. "Thanks, Fin, but I'm not much hungry at the moment. All the
excitement... if you'll excuse me," apologized Erestor, hurrying up
the stairs.

Torn between being a good host and being a good husband, Glorfindel
decided Erestor likely wished to be alone anyhow. Motioning to the
sunken room where a fire was blazing, Glorfindel waited until Guilin
had made himself comfortable on the couch before sitting down in his
chair. "You seem a little uneasy," remarked Glorfindel. "Was your
journey pleasant?"

"Yes, thank you," answered Guilin, trying to smile.

"You know," said Glorfindel after several minutes of troubled
silence, "the old tale that ellith tell their children, that
touching someone who is attracted to those of their same gender will
cause the one who touched them to be afflicted with it- it isn't
true."

"Oh. Oh, really?" Guilin laughed nervously. "Forgive me, then.
My mistake." To further make amends, Guilin leaned forward and held
out his hand. "A privilege to make your acquaintance..."

"Glorfindel," finished the balrog slayer, edging forward to shake
Guilin's hand. He settled back, and couldn't help but wonder how
things would have turned out differently had Gwindor been raised by
his birth parents. And how differently. "Did you travel alone?"

"Aye." Guilin ate another forkful of pie. "This is delicious. So
fresh."

"It should be; the apples were picked today," Glorfindel said
proudly. "Your wife is still at home, then?"

"That she is. After I convinced her that I needed to go, she
decided to ready our home. You see," continued Guilin, "I used to
be a fairly high guard in Doriath, back when Erestor was, well, in
trouble a lot," he chuckled. "A good ellon," he added swiftly, "but
what a temper! Surely, though, you're well aware of that."

Glorfindel merely smiled.

"Yes, well, I moved up the ranks nicely. I have quite the residence
here, you see." Guilin looked around the room and said, "Our
sitting room is, oh, four times larger, I think. And no fireplace;
a waste of space, really."

"We have good friends who are peredhil," said Glorfindel by way of
reason.

"Eight bedrooms," continued Guilin as if he hadn't heard. "We have
an entire separate house for guests -- and actually, we hardly have
guests."

"You don't say," said Glorfindel, reaching for a bottle of wine from
the cabinet behind him, as well as two glasses.

"What I plan to do, soon as I have the chance to speak with him, is
to offer the guest house to Gwindor and my future daughter-in-law.
Beautiful view, plus, the gardens are full of fragrant flowers. No
stench of dead fish, like here," he added.

"That's... the smell of the sea," corrected Glorfindel pointedly but
politely, handing a glass of wine to Guilin.

Guilin accepted the glass. "Well, whatever it is, they won't be
bothered by it in their new home. Cheers!"

- - -

"We have been discussing the wedding, Ada." Gwindor was sitting in
the living room with Finduilas on his lap. They were cuddled near
the fire. Sitting on the chair opposite was Guilin. Erestor hadn't
looked up when he was addressed, nor did he look up when he heard
his husband approaching. Glorfindel entered with a tray of biscuits
and jam, which he placed on the table before tending to the kettle
over the fire.

"Oh?" Erestor's comments as of late had been less lengthy than
usual, and were decreasing as the week went on. His eyes stayed
focused on the fire.

Gwindor nodded. "We thought, well, you and Nanafin have done so
much over the years, it would seem rude to continue to impose upon
your kindness. We thought, well, Adar offered use of his home and
lands for the wedding and reception. Then, everyone won't have to
travel all the way out here for the wedding; just a few would need
to travel from here to there."

"I thought the wedding and reception were to be at Thranduil's inn,"
interrupted Glorfindel when he realized that Erestor was not about
to respond.

"The King's Kastle is hardly a place for a formal affair," said
Guilin. "'Tis a place of drunken revelry, from what I have seen of
it. The yards behind my property are lush with flowers even at this
time of year, a perfect spot for such an event."

Biting his lip, Gwindor looked from his birth father to his adoptive
father. "What do you think, Erestor?"

Without blinking an eye, the Elda said, "Whatever you want," and
forced a smile.


- - -


It was well past midnight when Glorfindel awoke, something bothering
him, like a tickle in the back of his mind. Rolling over and
finding that he was alone in bed, he threw off the covers and
stumbled to the chair, grabbing a discarded pair of leggings.
Cursing when he realized they were too long and not wide enough, he
flung Erestor's pants across the room and went to the dresser for a
pair of his own.

His hair was already braided back behind him, and after pulling on
socks, he silently made his way to the first floor. Near the door,
his boots were waiting, and he left the cottage with them. They
still had guests, and would for another week, until Gwindor,
Finduilas, and Guilin would travel to Valimar to prepare for the
wedding, which was scheduled to take place in approximately a
month. Once on the front stoop, he settled himself down and pulled
them on, lacing them up as he looked around for any sign of his
mate, in case he was merely sulking near the front porch.

When it was clear that Erestor was further away, Glorfindel hopped
down the stairs and headed for the stable. Stretching and yawning
as he observed the empty stall where Thay normally stayed at night,
he clicked his tongue, the sound waking Nahar, better known to some
as Asfaloth, immediately. "Alright. Let's go find him."
Glorfindel pushed open the gate, which was never latched, and
mounted Asfaloth without worrying about bit, bridle, or
saddle. "Did you see them leave?" A nod. "Was he upset?" They were
already leaving the stable behind, Asfaloth trotting into the
orchard, but he took the time to nod and snort. "Yes, he is
temperamental, but I think that's part of what I like about him.
That slight unpredictability of his spirit. Let's find my wild
stallion."

The ride was slow, the ground covered with a layer of snow and
refrozen ice over the decomposing leaves and branches found
underneath, making them obviously audible to anyone nearby. Past
the apple orchard, in the first grove of cherry trees, they found
Thay grazing in a somewhat disgruntled manner. Dismounting,
Glorfindel gave his mount a pat on the rear. "Go home, both of you,
it's too late for you to be out in the cold." Neither horse argued,
trotting back in the direction they had come.

Glorfindel continued past the trees, hearing a commotion in the
fields where they had their personal garden laid out. Once he came
to the edge of it, he saw the one he was looking for. Erestor was
amid the remnants of the crops, where green pumpkins and other
vegetables that had been gnawed on by animals or ruined by insects
had remained. His heavy breathing was visible in the frosty air; in
his hands he wielded a long wooden staff.

As Glorfindel closed in, he took note of the scattered carnage.
Normally, the remains were left and tilled into the soil come the
late winter. Now, the seeds and pulp were strewn all over, the
defined rows gone. The crop of the next year would prove
interesting. "Feeling any better?" wondered Glorfindel as he
approached.

"No." Erestor kicked up a squash he had missed, and swung the staff
around to meet it as it tried to fall to the ground. Pieces flew in
every direction, skidding to a halt in the snow. A rancid cucumber
faired no better. Glorfindel looked about and spied a long,
straight branch on the ground, making little work of the twigs that
were attached to it. Rolling his neck back and forth and to the
sides as he walked to Erestor, he lifted the staff to tap him on the
shoulder.

Still, he was ready for the blow. Erestor turned on his heel before
Glorfindel could reach him, bringing the staff over his head and
down. Glorfindel blocked, his branch held between both
hands. "That was a dirty move," he said, knees bent slightly as he
fended off another swing of the wooden weapon.

"A warrior must be prepared for anything."

"Indeed." Glorfindel valted over Erestor, using his staff for
leverage, landing on a patch of ice. He lowered himself to the
ground, using the slippery surface to his advantage. He slid in a
semicircle, his arm out to one side for balance while the other held
his staff. Judging the distance, he swung his weapon toward
Erestor's legs, but the dark elf managed to take note of the move,
and leaped back just in time.

On one hand, Glorfindel wanted to drop his weapon, draw Erestor into
an embrace, and snuggle him until everything was alright. On the
other hand, he knew that wasn't going to make anything alright, and
it wasn't going to make Erestor feel alright. So instead, he
crouched a bit lower to the ground, narrowed his eyes and said, "Are
you giving up already?"

Anger flashed in Erestor's eyes, temporarily. A look Glorfindel
hadn't seen since days long past in Rivendell, in a time when they
were verbally at war with one another. "Your ass is mine," growled
Erestor.

Glorfindel grinned as he was once again attacked, the sounds of wood
cracking and splintering rising up in the darkness. Only the light
of the stars and moon guided them, and their own natural abilities.
Snow sprayed as their feet kicked it up, and attacks came swifter
and more brutally as Glorfindel's muscles loosened up. "Is that
your best?" he chided as the staff missed his head by inches.

Teeth were bared, and Erestor swung his weapon with full force at
his opponent. The impact caused Glorfindel's branch to be snapped
in two, and knocked him a step back. Throwing the broken wood to
the ground, he cracked his knuckles as Erestor twirled his staff
before bringing it to rest at his side. "No weapon?"

"Don't need one," replied Glorfindel, crouching in a defensive
position.

Erestor spun the staff again, then tossed it again. "Take your
boots off," he said, stepping out of his own.

"Why? Afraid they'll leave a mark?"

"I don't want to ruin them."

Glorfindel snorted -- even in battle, ever practical was
Erestor. "There. Shall we?"

Erestor tossed his boots aside to where Glorfindel had thrown
his. "No biting," he added as an afterthought.

"No biting? My dear counselor, in war, there are no rules."
Glorfindel was now circling, getting closer, but not too close,
looking for a weak spot.

Erestor gave him a wicked look. "Well, I meant not to hurt your
fair skin, but if you insist-"

"Oh, not to hurt me? How kind. I decline the offer," Glorfindel
shot back.

"Suit yourself." And Erestor pounced, Glorfindel now realizing that
he himself had taken too much time, and Erestor had merely stalled
long enough to observe and decide on his own move. How many more
games of chess had Erestor won? Too many, thought Glorfindel as he
blocked a punch but neglected to dodge a kick. His instinct kicked
in, and soon enough he managed to make an equal amount of
connections. A well-placed jab made him bite his bottom lip and
draw blood, but he didn't so much as back away. Instead, he fought
harder, gaining the upper hand. He forced Erestor onto constant
defense, throwing punches without thinking, by simply knowing, from
years and years of practice, as it came back to him.

Erestor blocked the best he could, but his weariness at having been
tired when Glorfindel had first found him was fast catching up. A
vine caught his ankle, causing him to stumble back, and a kick to
his side managed to knock him down. Instead of trying to stand up,
he fell back into the snow, fighting to catch his breath.

"Are we done?" questioned Glorfindel as he approached.

"Almost." Erestor lifted himself up, and his leg shot over with
great force, landing behind Glorfindel's shins. Once the balrog
slayer was prone on the ground, Erestor flopped back into the
snow. "Now we're done."

"Now are you feeling better?" asked Glorfindel, closing his eyes and
deciding not to try standing up."

"Maybe. A little." Erestor balled up a fist full of snow and threw
it at the trio of partially dismantled scarecrows, hitting the one
that was dressed in an old skirt that Celebrian had discarded and
one of Orophin's torn up tunics. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. We should do this more often." Finally daring
to sit up, Glorfindel edged over to Erestor, and leaned against
him. "Our little peanut's finally grown up."

Erestor said nothing.

"I know it's hard, and he has said a few things that have hurt me as
well, but in time, all will be well."

Erestor said nothing.

"Ress... in a way, you're a lot like him."

Erestor gave Glorfindel a defiant look. "How? My parents never
wanted me, well, at least not the one I thought was my father. And
Orome had a damn good reason for keeping things from me."

"Like the `damn good reason' you have for not telling your real son
that you are his father?" Glorfindel knew he was crossing a line,
but continued further. "Gwindor will always be our son, but, I
think we have to give him this chance to know the rest of the story."

"I AM giving him that chance. I let him do whatever he wants, do I
not?" Erestor shoved away the arms that tried to embrace him. "He
wants the wedding in Valimar, fine. He wants to invite scores who
never cared enough about him to come and see him until now, fine.
He wants to move away and stop calling me his father, fine. Bloody
well fine. But then, this is it. I wash my hands of it. I am
through."

"You don't mean that," argued Glorfindel.

"I damn well do."

Shaking his head, Glorfindel muttered, "Stupid, stubborn fool. It
amazes me that the most brilliant elf in all of Arda can be the most
pig-headed at times."

Snorting with disdain, Erestor stumbled to get to his feet. "And it
amazes me that the most brilliant elf in all of Arda ended up with
such a... a... well, with you!" He stomped off in the direction of
the cottage, leaving Glorfindel sitting in the snow.

The blond sighed, and gathered up their boots and Erestor's staff,
then followed after his mate. In the back of his mind, he began to
wonder if there would be room enough in Asfaloth's stall for him to
sleep there. He heard a loud thump, almost a cracking sound, and
then, he heard a whimper. Throwing the boots and the staff to the
ground, he ran through the orchard to catch up to Erestor.

Once within range of sight, Glorfindel shouted, "You want to fight
me or kick the garden around, fine. Leave the trees out of this,
you bastard." Glorfindel gulped back the words, but they had
already come, and Erestor turned around and shot Glorfindel a heated
look. The Vanya took a step back, but stood his ground. "You hit
another tree, I'll break your arm. I swear, Ress, I have no desire
to hurt you, but you have no right to harm them. They didn't do a
damn thing."

Erestor stood motionless, guilt washing over him. He looked to the
cherry tree he had rammed his fist against, and bowed his head as it
shuddered. Slowly he approached it, reaching one hand out and
placing it upon the trunk. He began to talk, a heartfelt apology,
sincere as the tears he was crying. Glorfindel reached him as he
finished his penance, placing a kiss upon the spot he had injured on
the tree. "It's so hard, Fin."

"I know." This time, Glorfindel managed to embrace Erestor without
having him fight back.

"I'm not going to the wedding," said Erestor as Glorfindel took a
moment to lead them back to their footwear to retrieve it.

"We'll talk about that later," shushed Glorfindel as they walked
back to the cottage.

- - -

Erestor half-heartedly answered the door. He had heard the sound of
the carriage pulling up and what he assumed was a horsemaster coming
to the door. It surprised him to see Thranduil on the other
side. "Do come in. Glorfindel is just getting his things together."

"Excellent. And where are your things? We can load them into the
coach," said Thranduil, removing his gloves.

Frowning deeply, Erestor shook his head. "Perhaps Glorfindel did
not mention it. I'm not going to the wedding."

"Nonsense. Where are your bags?" insisted Thranduil.

Erestor crossed his arms as he heard Glorfindel slowly coming down
the stairs, his footfalls hesitant. "I know what's going on. I am
still not going."

Thranduil cocked an eyebrow up. "My granddaughter is getting
married next week. My granddaughter, whom you will recall in her
prior life made our lives a living hell in Doriath. Still, I love
her dearly, and will not miss the event. And you, Erestor, are
going to be present for your son's wedding."

For a moment, it looked as if Erestor might concede. "I really
don't want to go, Thranduil."

"Neither do I," he admitted. "I would rather see them have a formal
engagement, followed by a year of further courting, culminating in a
traditional wedding, preferably at my home. Or, at the very least,
at my father's palace. However, this is their life, and their
decision. And I will support them; so should you."

Glorfindel used the pause to slip between them and out the door with
his bags, taking them to the coach. He returned to retrieve his
cloak. "Ress? Are you coming?"

A deep sigh issued forth, and Erestor nodded slightly. "Let me pack
a few things. I shall be right back." Reluctantly, Erestor climbed
the steps.

Once Erestor was on the second floor, Glorfindel looked at Thranduil
with disbelief. "How do you do it? I mean, I should be able to do
that, but you, just... how?"

Thranduil gave a regal shrug of his shoulder and a sideways tilt of
his head. "I am a king. I say to do something; it gets done. It
comes naturally."

"Huh." Glorfindel rocked back and forth on his feet, whistling a
little while waiting for Erestor to return. Thranduil adjusted his
cloak, and looked around the small hallway that led off towards the
dining room and kitchen in one direction and a guest room in the
other.

"The two of you have a nice little place here. I suppose it will
quiet down for you, with Gwindor and Finduilas out of the house."

Glorfindel smiled sadly. "Well... maybe a little too quiet. Did
Erestor ever tell you what he planned to do when Gwindor's memory
returned?" Thranduil shook his head. "We knew the two of them
would want to get married, and would want a place of their own.
Erestor and I have been fixing all the little problems in the
cottage through the last few years during our free time. It was
going to be their wedding present. This and the orchards. We had
already talked to Elrond about moving into the Homely House. We're
both a little old to be doing so much work, and Gwindor knew how to
run the farm. Now, I suppose we'll just stay."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea," replied Thranduil.

"No idea about what?" asked Erestor as he came down the stairs.

Opening the door, Thranduil waved his hand. "Time to go. Do you
have everything?"

Erestor hoisted the sack over his shoulder and nodded. "Just need
my cloak. We need to stop at the Homely House, to let someone there
know to come up and milk the cow while we're away."

"I, ahm, I took care of that already. Yesterday," added Glorfindel,
flicking an uncertain look in Erestor's direction. The past three
months had been tense to say the least. For the first time in their
relationship, Erestor had demanded both space and time, something
Glorfindel gave without question, but with obvious pain in his
heart. "I know... you're mad at me," he mumbled as he walked out
the door.

Thranduil cleared his throat as Glorfindel disappeared. When
Erestor gave him an uncertain look, Thranduil ahemed a little louder
and nodded his head in the direction of the door as he replaced his
gloves on his hands.

Taking the steps two at a time, Erestor hurried down to meet
Glorfindel. "Oh, here, let me get that," offered Glorfindel, taking
hold of Erestor's bag. "Would you like the seat by the window? I
know you like to look at the scenery."

Erestor jerked the bag back, and tossed it onto the nearby ground.
Before Glorfindel could question what he had done or said wrong, he
found himself the recipient of a long, passionate kiss. Thranduil
passed by moments later, not breaking stride, and picking up the
dropped bag as he went. As Erestor relinquished his hold on
Glorfindel, he looked back at the cottage with a sad smile, and then
gave his husband's hand a tug. "Come on, love. We have a wedding
to attend. Our baby's getting married."

Glorfindel nodded, and gave Erestor's hand a squeeze. "Gwindor
might be Guilin's son, but he'll always be our baby. He can't take
our little peanut away from us."

-End- (For those interested, the next story in the sequence would
be 'Consequences')