Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana
Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairings; Ereinion/Lindir and Elrond/Celebrían.
Overall rating: NC-17
Summary: Lindir, Elrond and Glorfindel settle down in
Imladris, where Lindir slowly recovers after losing
Ereinion. Elrond falls in love with Celebrían and
Námo’s meddling continues. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. 
Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge
liberties with Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This
story has the timeline from Hell, so consider yourself
warned!
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia
Pleasant, thanks! I couldn’t have written this story
without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 


By the Grace of the Valar
Part 5


Life had ceased to have meaning for Lindir. It didn’t
matter if his eyes were open or closed, for the only
scene he saw was Sauron slaying Ereinion. The moment
his beloved had died, Lindir’s heart had stopped
beating as well, but moments later it had started
again, damning him to a life without his lover. 

Although the Alliance of Elves and Men proved
victorious there was little joy in the camps of the
Firstborn or Secondborn; they had lost their beloved
leaders. They also mourned the loss, but no one felt
it as keenly as Lindir did. In his entranced state he
barely noticed their victory. Glorfindel told him of
it during one of his visits, but Lindir didn’t listen.
All he could think of was losing the love of his life.
Ereinion had been everything to him. The sun and the
moon, the sky, the green of the earth – his star. And
now he felt lost on this sea of emotions. There was no
guiding star – he was alone. 

Elrond, Glorfindel and Círdan took turns sitting with
their unresponsive friend. They met and discussed the
minstrel’s fate. Although Círdan offered to take care
of Lindir, it was decided that the minstrel would
travel to Imladris with Elrond and Glorfindel instead.
Apparently, before his death, Ereinion had taken
Elrond aside and had asked him to take Lindir to the
valley. 

Círdan entered the tent – which used to be Ereinion’s
but now only housed Lindir – and seated himself on the
side of the bed. Lindir worried him. He recalled the
first time he had seen Lindir, after the Orcs had
attacked him, and although Lindir had seemed lost back
then as well, this empty stare worried him more. It
was as if Lindir’s inner light had almost gone out.
Only a tiny flame remained and kept him from fading. 

“Lindir, you must find the strength and courage to go
on. Ereinion would have wanted that.” Círdan didn’t
expect an answer and continued now that Lindir
remained quiet. “You are a survivor, meldir1. You
lived through many horrific events and you will find a
way to deal with the loss. I will always be there for
you, should you need me.” He curled his long,
calloused fingers around Lindir’s slender ones.
“Elrond is a naturally gifted healer and he will
contribute to your recovery. That is probably why
Ereinion wanted you to go to Imladris with him,
instead of with me.”

Círdan stroked the fingers, which lay motionless in
the safety of his large warrior’s hand. “I will come
with you to Imladris and I will stay for a while, but
in the end, I must depart for the Gray Havens.”
Looking into the glazed-over blue eyes, he leaned in
closer and pushed his arms beneath Lindir’s back.
Gently, he pulled his friend close and hugged him.
“You are like a son to me and now that I've lost
Ereinion, I…” His voice failed him. His heart mourned
losing Ereinion as well, but he couldn’t give in to
his pain – not when Lindir needed him to be the strong
one. “I already miss him, Lindir. But more
importantly, I miss you!”

Lindir gave no sign that he had heard – let alone,
understood – Círdan’s words.

All the Shipwright could do was to hold Lindir tight
and hope the minstrel would eventually return to them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“May I sit with him?” Glorfindel entered the tent and
his watering eyes released their tears, finding Círdan
rocking Lindir. 

Círdan lowered Lindir onto the camp bed, trying to
make things as comfortable as possible for Lindir. “He
has not spoken since Ereinion died.” Círdan rose from
the bed and made way for Glorfindel, who seated
himself cross-legged on the floor. “He is in shock.”

“Such a state can last a long time.” Glorfindel
gathered Lindir’s hand in his, not surprised to notice
that the limb felt cold. Lindir was closer to death
than life right now. “We can only hope and pray that
he will pull through.” 

“Elrond wishes to leave for Imladris tomorrow. I hope
Lindir is strong enough to make that journey.”

“Elrond knows what he is doing,” said Glorfindel. The
half-Elf had long ago gained his trust in these
matters. “He does what is best for Lindir and staying
here, so close to the battlefield where the stench of
death and blood still oozes in pools is not the best
place for Lindir to be. The sooner we leave the
better.” 

Círdan walked around the bed, until he stood near the
doorway. He could now look Glorfindel in the eye and
his gaze drifted from the golden-haired warrior to
Lindir’s ghost-like form. “He was not this ill when I
took care of him after he had fled Gondolin.”

Glorfindel looked up and gave Círdan a probing glance.
He had heard that Círdan had nursed Lindir back to
health, but the two Elves hadn’t discussed the past
yet. “Thank you for looking after him. He did not
deserve what happened to him in Gondolin.”

“We should be thanking Erestor instead. It was he, who
brought Lindir to safety.” Círdan heard Glorfindel’s
sharp intake of breath and wondered about the
expression in the sapphire-like eyes.

“You met Erestor?” Glorfindel was eager to learn more
of this mysterious Elf to whom he apparently was
bound. 

“Not directly. I heard his voice, but I never saw him
– just a bright light. I did not know who he was until
Lindir told me his name.”

/Odd, very odd,/ thought Glorfindel. Nothing about
Erestor made sense! 

Círdan saw the confusion in Glorfindel’s eyes and
said, “Lindir once told me that he believes Erestor is
still alive. If the two are really bound and destined
to be with each other, he will find you.”

Glorfindel remained quiet and searched Lindir’s face
instead, slowly understanding that his friend had the
answers, which he needed so badly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing in the corner of the tent and invisible to
Elven eyes, Erestor flinched. He had never considered
the fact that together, Círdan and Lindir had enough
information to deduce who he was. What would happen
once Lindir woke and Glorfindel got a chance to ask
his questions? Why hadn’t his father taken away Lindir
and Círdan’s memories when he had erased Glorfindel’s?
Now his former lover might find out the truth.

Having Glorfindel this close made his soul ache. The
Elf was so close and yet impossibly far away. He
walked toward Glorfindel, who was softly talking to
Lindir, telling their friend that he would recover in
Imladris. He wanted to touch Glorfindel – to run his
hands down the silken hair. Closing his eyes, he
remembered how good it had felt when Glorfindel had
sunk into him, connecting their bodies and making them
one. Oh, how he missed that! How he missed making love
with Glorfindel!

“Do not torment yourself in such a way, my son.” Vairë
appeared at Erestor’s side and placed a hand on her
son’s shoulder. “You knew the consequences when you
left the Halls.”

“I never knew I would hurt this badly.” Erestor’s eyes
locked with his mother’s. “I want them to be happy.
Lindir and Glorfindel. They deserve that.”

“Even without your presence in their lives?”

“If that is the price I need to pay I will pay it.”
Erestor’s hand passed through Glorfindel, when he
tried to stroke the long, golden mane. “I love him
still. I will always love him.”

“Come home with me, Erestor, and let Glorfindel
comfort Lindir.” Vairë brushed raven strands away from
her son’s face. “Lindir will recover and the three of
them will be happy in Imladris.” But in her son’s
eyes, she read the desire to be part of that. Erestor
still longed to be reunited with Glorfindel and Lindir
– even though he knew that Glorfindel would probably
reject him and shun him. 

“I cannot live without him,” said Erestor eventually,
aching to feel Glorfindel in his arms again. 

“You must.” Vairë folded an arm around her son’s
shoulder and used her powers to take them back to the
Halls of Waiting. Seeing the pain in her son’s eyes
was more than she could take and she was determined to
speak to her husband about this matter. If necessary,
she would take this to Manwë himself.   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ereinion had settled down in the Halls. Although he
missed Lindir constantly, he understood that he had to
find a way to deal with the loss. His family had
welcomed him and had kept him company. He found some
measure of comfort in their presence, but he still
longed for Lindir. In the end, he had gone to the room
he had been assigned and had sat down. 

Lost in thought, he was staring into the fire,
reminiscing on his death. At first, he didn’t hear the
soft footfalls in the corridor, but then, they
registered. “Who goes there?”

“No one. Pay me no attention.”

The soft voice, filled with immense sorrow, tore at
his soul. In spite of his pain and misery, Ereinion
tore his gaze away from the fire and tried to pierce
the darkness in the corridor. “You do not have to
leave on my accord.”

“I must… It is my destiny to walk these corridors
alone for all eternity.” 

Ereinion’s eyes narrowed, trying to discern the other
Elf’s features, but failed. The darkness in the
corridor grew deeper and then, the stranger was gone. 

Puzzled, Ereinion frowned. But then his longing for
Lindir returned and made his eyes water. “I miss you
so much!” 

“Sire?” 

Disturbed a second time, Ereinion’s imaginary body
drew in a deep breath. “Who is it?”

“My name is Ecthelion. May I enter?” 

“Ecthelion?” For a moment, his misery left him alone
and curiosity appeared. “Are you the Lord of the
Fountain?” He marveled at the beauty of the
dark-haired Elf who now stepped inside. Wearing blue
leggings and an azure shirt, the dark-haired Elf made
an almost magical impression on him. “I am honored
that you would seek me out.”

“I remember how it was for me when I arrived here
after Gondolin fell. I felt lost… And I did not leave
behind a lover.” Ecthelion stepped into the room and
sat down on the bed. “It is amazing, the way Námo has
succeeded in mimicking our former lives. Although we
are all dead, he still consoles us by allowing us to
remain the way we were.”

“You have been here for a long time.” Ereinion shifted
on his chair. “I have heard many tales and songs,
which describe your valor that day.” 

A rueful smile appeared on Ecthelion’s face. “My
action saved Tuor’s life and his survival was
important to me.” 

“It *was* important.” Ereinion considered mentioning
Elrond, but he wasn’t certain if Ecthelion knew much
about the half-Elf. “I do not know what to make of
these Halls,” he admitted eventually. “I never thought
that being dead would be like this.”

“Each soul reacts in that way, sire…”

“Call me Ereinion – please.”

Ecthelion nodded. Although he marveled about the
differences between Turgon and Ereinion he still knew
how to obey a direct order, even if that meant
addressing the High-King in such an informal way.
“There is a certain measure of contentment to be found
here.”

“I do not think I ever will feel content again,
Ecthelion. I miss my beloved.”  

/At least you had a beloved! That is more than I ever
had!/ But Ecthelion didn’t speak the spiteful words,
knowing better than to give into this negative
feeling. “I pray you will seek out our company instead
of isolating yourself in your rooms. Most of the
Elf-Lords and former Kings gather in one of the main
Halls and we would be honored to welcome you there.”
Bringing Ereinion this invitation had been his main
reason for visiting, but there was something else.

“I will go with you, Ecthelion. I do not desire to be
alone any more.” Isolating himself from the other
Elves would make this existence only more painful now
that Lindir was out of his reach forever. He rose from
his chair and joined Ecthelion when the Elf-Lord
headed for the doorway. “Is there something else you
wanted to say?” He saw curiosity and indecision in
Ecthelion’s eyes.

“How does Glorfindel fare?” asked Ecthelion in a
trembling voice.

“Ah, of course. I should have known.” Ereinion managed
a weak smile. “Glorfindel was a good friend, an
excellent warrior and became one of my main advisors
over the years. I was honored to fight at his side.”

Ecthelion managed an equally weak smile. “I was
relieved to notice that he survived. Visiting the
Halls once should be enough – even for Glorfindel.”

“I left instructions for Elrond. He will take
Glorfindel and… and Lindir,” his voice trembled,
speaking his lover’s name, “He will take them to
Imladris. They will know peace there and Glorfindel
will doubtlessly become Imladris’ champion and her
Captain.” Ereinion raised a hand and squeezed
Ecthelion’s shoulder, still amazed at how real the
Elf-Lord felt beneath his touch. It was like he was
touching one of the living!

Ecthelion felt proud, hearing Glorfindel had done
well, but that didn’t take away the fact that he still
missed his best friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He is fit enough to travel,” decreed Elrond, still
worried for Lindir’s well-being. But leaving for
Imladris now was the sensible thing to do. The initial
shock he had suffered after Ereinion’s death had
dimmed, and once Elrond had realized that most Elves
looked to him for guidance, he had gathered his
strength to be the leader they needed him to be – for
now.

“I will ride with him,” announced Glorfindel, who felt
protective of Lindir. Also, he felt it was his *right*
to be closest to Lindir because of the past they
shared. 

Círdan understood Glorfindel’s need to have Lindir
close and nodded his approval. “We will travel at a
slow speed. It does not matter if we arrive in
Imladris early or a week late.”

Elrond concurred. “I have sent a messenger ahead. When
we arrive in Imladris, they will be ready for us.
Everyone who is coming with us will find a home there,
if they so desire.”

That night, Elrond, Glorfindel and Círdan gathered in
Lindir’s tent to confer softly and to keep their
hurting friend company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ereinion wished he had never come upon this tapestry
for it showed him how much Lindir was suffering
because of his death. “I never wanted for any of this
to happen.”

Erestor, having kept a close eye on Ereinion, walked
up to the dead High-King. “Elrond is taking him to
Imladris. Lindir will slowly recover there. He needs
time. He only lost you days ago.”

“How did you deal with losing Glorfindel?” Ereinion
realized something was wrong with his question to
moment he put it to Erestor. 

“I lost my mind,” admitted Erestor. “I went insane
with rage.”

“But, you are Námo’s son. Glorfindel and you were
reunited inside these Halls.”

Erestor briefly closed his eyes. “I promised to share
my history with you.”

“Aye, you did,” said Ereinion, nodding once. “Now
seems like a good time.”

“I will tell you, then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ereinion’s head spun with everything Erestor had told
him. “Glorfindel never forgave you? And your father
erased his memory?” That explained why Glorfindel had
insisted Erestor didn’t exist and that Lindir must be
mistaken. 

“I want him to be happy.” Erestor slid his hands into
the sleeves of his dark robes. They had reached
Vairë’s latest tapestry, showing them the party on
their way to Imladris. Lindir was seated in front of
Glorfindel and the golden-haired Elf’s stallion
trotted carefully to not disturb the hurting Elf. 

“How much longer will Lindir’s shock last?” Ereinion
raised a hand and touched the tapestry. The next
moment, he pulled back, embittered that his fingertips
only encountered fabric and not Lindir himself. 

“A few more weeks at least… Maybe even several months.
It is hard to say when he will feel strong enough to
face the loss. But until that moment he is in the best
hands. Elrond, Glorfindel and Círdan will take care of
him.”

“I told him to carry on and to make my dream reality.
I always dreamt of a peaceful existence, tucked away
in a valley as lovely as Imladris, where I would not
have to be the King. Where I could just be me.”

“Lindir knows that you want him to live on,” said
Erestor, thoughtfully. “Give him time.”

“Do I have a choice?” asked Ereinion in a bitter
voice. 

“Nay, you do not.” Erestor averted his eyes. Sometimes
he wondered if he had done the right thing in rescuing
Lindir that fateful day – hadn’t he just prolonged his
friend’s suffering?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We are home.” A gigantic burden seemed to fall away
from his shoulders now that they had arrived in
Imladris. Elrond felt drained; waging war for seven
years had exhausted him, and taking care of Lindir had
tired him further. But now they had finally arrived
and all the weary warriors could rest.

“This is truly the Last Homely House,” whispered
Círdan, who smiled, intercepting Elrond’s pleased
look. “You have an Elven realm here, which will always
be unrivaled in beauty and peace.”

“I look forward to that,” replied Elrond, dismounting.
He walked over to Glorfindel’s stallion and accepted
Lindir into his arms. Cradling Lindir against his
chest, Elrond waited for Círdan and Glorfindel to
dismount, and then the Elves entered their new home.
“I have made arrangements for Lindir,” explained
Elrond. “He has rooms adjourning to mine so I can keep
an eye on him at all times.” 

Glorfindel felt wearier with every step he took. These
last few weeks on the road had caused much of his zest
for life to dim. Seeing Lindir’s misery had made him
feel depressed in turn. He longed to lie down and find
oblivion in sleep. A hand suddenly squeezed his
shoulder and he looked into Círdan’s encouraging eyes.


“Things will change for the better and Lindir will
improve,” said the Shipwright. 

A young Elf appeared to their right and bowed
respectfully. He was dressed in simple brown robes and
long, auburn hair framed a handsome and intelligent
face. The dark eyes sparkled with life energy.
“Welcome home, my Lord Elrond.”

Elrond smiled at the Elf and said, “Melpomaen, please
show Círdan and Glorfindel to their rooms. I will take
care of this one personally.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Melpomaen’s gaze shifted from
Elrond and Lindir to the two legendary Elves on his
left. “Master Círdan, Lord Glorfindel, please follow
me.”

Círdan smiled in a fatherly manner. “Lead on, dearest
Melpomaen.” Círdan pulled Glorfindel along, realizing
the golden-haired Elf would prefer to stay with
Lindir, but Elrond needed time alone with Lindir to
work his healing powers. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His rooms were luxurious and an immense change from
the tents he had lived in these last seven years.
Glorfindel appreciated his new, lavish rooms, but he
felt edgy, like the war wasn’t over yet. 

After Círdan and Melpomaen had left, he had taken a
long, hot bath. He had brushed and braided his hair
and then dressed in clean leggings and shirt. He had
been in the progress of girding on his sword when he
realized that it was no longer necessary that he was
armed. The enemy had been defeated and peace had
settled on the valley. 

Growing nervous and feeling cornered in his rooms
Glorfindel left them to explore the Last Homely House,
as Círdan had christened it. He easily located the
barracks where his soldiers had settled down and
mingled with them, talking with them. It didn’t take
him long to realize he *did* have a place here. They
had named him their new Captain – their commander –
and were ready to see to the protection of Imladris.
Glorfindel was eager to comply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Círdan on the other hand, enjoyed his luxurious
surroundings. After washing off the dirt and grime of
the road and changing into clean clothes, he followed
his nose, which led him to the kitchen. 

After eating his fill and thanking the cook, Círdan
also set out to explore. He had been here before, but
back then they had been focused on the upcoming war.
Now, he took his time exploring Imladris’ hidden
beauties. 

In the end, he left the rose garden and headed back to
the house, hoping to find Elrond there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This will do.” Elrond gave his chief healer a
thankful nod. “Leave me alone with him now.” 

The healer left and Elrond seated himself on the side
of the bed Lindir was resting on. They had attended to
Lindir’s needs, bathed, and dressed the catatonic Elf
in a light robe. Lindir now rested on a comfortable
bed, but the skin remained ashen and the eyes empty.
“I cannot allow you to continue like this, meldir.
Ereinion would want you to live, not fade.”

He drew in a deep breath and focused on Lindir. Elrond
pulled Lindir into his arms and rested his chin on the
white hair. Gathering his healing energy, he forced it
out of his mind and into Lindir’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The scream that echoed through Imladris froze the
blood in Círdan’s veins. The Shipwright ran in the
direction it was coming from, flung the door open, and
stared at Lindir, who was pummeling Elrond. The
half-Elf had crumbled on the bed and Lindir’s fists
descended onto the collapsed form time and time again.
Once he had shaken off his stupor, Círdan rushed
forward. “Lindir! Stop!”

Glorfindel, who had also been alerted by the scream,
marched into the room. His heart missed a beat,
finding Lindir burying his fists in Elrond’s back.
Whilst Círdan pulled Lindir away from Elrond,
Glorfindel folded his arms around the half-Elf and
gently lowered him onto the floor. 

Círdan didn’t get the chance to ask what had happened
as Lindir tried to hit him as well. Gathering Lindir’s
wrists in one hand, he forced the white-haired Elf to
stop his actions. “Lindir!” 

Lindir’s white hair surrounded his head like a halo,
the blue eyes had turned frost-bitten and the narrow
lips had lost most of the blood that usually gave them
their ruby color. “He is dead!” screamed Lindir,
almost losing his voice in the process. “Ereinion is
dead! I watched him die!”

Círdan managed to lock gazes with Lindir. “I know
that, Lindir. And I am here to help you deal with his
death. Stop trying to hit me, meldir. You are amongst
friends.” 

Círdan’s calm tone registered with Lindir and the
minstrel sagged against the Shipwright. He didn’t know
what had happened just now. One moment he had been
asleep, dreaming of Ereinion and holding him close in
his arms, and the next, the loss had become
unbearable. He had never wanted to wake up again in
the first place!

Now that Lindir had calmed down, Círdan’s attention
shifted to Glorfindel, who was supporting Elrond. The
half-Elf was breathing heavily and the eyes rolled
back in their sockets. “He used his healing energy to
wake Lindir,” realized Círdan, chastising himself for
not realizing earlier what Elrond planned to do. /He
should have asked me to assist him and not do this on
his own!/ 

“How does Elrond fare?” How exhausted was the
half-Elf?

“He just lost consciousness!” Glorfindel exchanged a
look with Círdan and knew what he had to do. “Can you
look after Lindir? Elrond needs…” What did the
half-Elf need?

“Take Elrond to his room and put him to bed. Sit with
him until he regains awareness. I will take care of
Lindir.” Seeing Glorfindel’s worried expression, he
added, “Trust me. I have taken care of Lindir before.
I know what to do.”

Glorfindel put his trust in Círdan and lifted the
half-Elf in his arms. He was surprised to find out
just how little Elrond weighed. Had Elrond lost so
much weight during these last few weeks? 

He carried Elrond into the adjourning room and placed
the Peredhel2 on the bed. Pulling up the blankets, he
tucked them around the unconscious half-Elf.
Glorfindel sat down and gathered one of Elrond’s hands
between his. He hadn’t known Elrond possessed such
healing powers! “You exhausted yourself by helping him
wake up.” He hadn’t thought Elrond could do such a
thing and the half-Elf had just risen even higher in
his admiration. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lindir, I share your pain, but…” 

“You cannot possibly know the pain I am in!” Lindir
hissed the words and broke away from Círdan’s
supportive grip. He collapsed on the bed and curled up
in a fetal position. “You have no idea how much pain I
feel!”

Círdan drew in a deep breath and forced himself to
remain calm. He stretched beside Lindir, and once he
had caught the frosty glance, he nodded once. “Aye,
you are right. I did not love Ereinion the way you
did. He was not my bonded mate. But Ereinion was
precious to me as well, Lindir. He was the son I never
had. I raised him – I taught him everything he knew.
You have lost your beloved, but I have lost my son. Do
not belittle my loss.”

The glare in Lindir’s eyes broke. “Oh, I never wanted…
I did not think… Círdan, I…” 

Círdan got exactly the reaction he had aimed for.
Lindir wrapped his arms around him in turn and hugged
him close. “I share your pain, Lindir. Do not shut me
out. Let me in. Together, we can carry on. We can
support each other. You are not alone, Lindir. You
never will be.” 

Círdan’s words caused the emotional dam inside Lindir
to break and all the pain and grief came pouring out –
together with a river of tears, shed by two pair of
eyes. Both Elves mourned losing a loved one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ereinion returned to his room after spending time in
the main Hall with the other Elf-Lords and former
Kings. Even though their company distracted him, it
didn’t offer him any comfort. At times, he preferred
to seek out the privacy of his room, where he would
lay down on his bed, close his eyes, and dream of
times gone by. He wasn’t certain if the ability to
dream was a curse or a blessing, as he always dreamt
of Lindir. 

Sometimes, when he was alone and everything around him
quiet, he would hear those hesitant footfalls in the
corridor again. Once or twice, he had checked to see
if someone was there, but the corridor had been
shrouded in darkness, making it impossible for him to
see clearly. 

Those mysterious footfalls now sounded again, and this
time, Ereinion was prepared. He grabbed the candle
holder and walked toward the doorway. Not entering the
corridor yet, he called out, “Who goes there?”

“No one, do not pay me any attention. I do not exist.”


Like before, the sad, almost lost tone in that voice
gripped his heart, and although he no longer possessed
a beating heart, it still felt like it just missed a
beat. When the footfalls sounded the clearest,
Ereinion flung the door open and entered the corridor,
illuminating his surroundings with the candle. A
breeze, coming out of nowhere, extinguished the flame,
but not before he had seen a pair of tormented dark
eyes. Darkness clothed the Elf stumbling down the
corridor and in the next moment, the stranger was
gone. 

“He is right, Ereinion. You should not pay him any
attention.” 

Ereinion spun around, surprised to find Námo standing
behind him. “Who is that Elf?”

“He no longer has a name, Ereinion. He is unworthy of
your attention. The next time you hear him, ignore
him. Do not call out to him.”

“I do not understand.” Ereinion studied Námo closely. 


“No understanding is needed on your part, only
obedience.” Námo began walking down the corridor,
leaving Ereinion alone. The first stage of his plan
had been completed. The High-King’s curiosity had been
piqued.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond’s eyes, which had closed when he had fainted,
slowly opened again. Lindir’s reaction had taken him
by surprise, and in his weakened state, he had been
unable to deflect those first, violent blows. 

“How do you fare, Elrond?” Glorfindel supported the
half-Elf, finding that Elrond was trying to push
himself into a sitting position. 

“My head is spinning.” And his back ached – there
where Lindir’s fists had connected with flesh. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Glorfindel
looked at Elrond in a new light. Apart from being a
cunning warrior and strategist, the half-Elf was also
a true healer. 

“Aye, you can.” Elrond lifted a shaky arm and pointed
at a crystal flask on the nightstand. “Hand me that.”

Glorfindel reached for the flask, opened it and poured
the liquid into a glass, which he then handed the
half-Elf. “What is it?”

“Miruvor. My healers make it for me.” With shaky
hands, Elrond curled his fingers around the glass. He
sipped the miruvor, and the potent drink warmed him
from the inside, strengthening him. “How fares
Lindir?”

“Círdan is with him.” It had quieted down in the
adjourning room, which Glorfindel interpreted as a
good sign. Color began to return to Elrond’s face and
the tremors lessened. “Does using your healing powers
always exhaust you?”

“Aye, it does. That is why I seldom used them in the
past. I could not afford to be weakened in times of
war.” Elrond leaned heavily against Glorfindel,
gathering his strength. “I should return to Lindir’s
side now.”

“You should not,” said Glorfindel in a soft voice.
“Círdan has everything under control and you should
rest.” 

“I had to wake him. You understand that, don’t you,
meldir?” 

“I do. I believe you did the right thing in forcing
Lindir to return to us.” Glorfindel continued to
support Elrond who felt warm against him. Oh, sweet
Valar, it had been so long since he had held someone
in his arms – feeling someone’s body heat! 

“Círdan knows Lindir well, Elrond. He knows how to
deal with Lindir’s pain. He has done so before.”

“He has?” Sleepily, Elrond’s eyes began to close. 

“Aye, but we should not talk about something so
troubling when you need to rest.”  Glorfindel shifted
further onto the bed and rested his back against the
head board. “I assume it is normal for you to go to
sleep after using your healing energy?”

“It is… but normally… I do not… faint…” 

“Bringing Lindir back to us must have been more tiring
than you thought.” Glorfindel held Elrond close and
the half-Elf’s breathing slowed down, indicating his
charge had fallen into a restful sleep. Moving away
would wake Elrond and he didn’t want that, so
Glorfindel stayed in place, holding him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lindir felt numb and empty once he had shed all those
tears, which he had kept inside these last few weeks.
He felt weak and had no desire to move at all.
Círdan’s arms were still wrapped around him and his
friend’s presence soothed him. /I am so sorry that I
forgot that you are hurting too. I did not want to
belittle your pain. I know how much you loved him./
Speaking the words however, as an apology, took too
much of his strength and he remained quiet instead.

Círdan continued to hug Lindir close. “I am so
relieved that you woke and returned to us.” 

“I did not want… to wake. I… was… dreaming of… of
him.”

“But you cannot run away from reality, Lindir.
Ereinion would not have wanted you to do that. He
wanted you to live and fulfill his dreams. A dream,
which has come alive in this valley.” 

Lindir lifted tired eyes and met Círdan’s probing
glance. “I do not want… to continue… without him. Life
is… meaningless… without him… at my side.”

“It is not meaningless. As long as you live, Ereinion
will remain alive in your heart, thoughts and soul.
Honor him. Keep his memory alive and live the life he
wanted you to live.”

“But how… do I find… the strength… to carry on?”
Lindir slowly freed himself of Círdan’s embrace and
sat upright. He pulled his knees close to his chest
and wrapped his arms around them. “I know that… he
wanted me to honor him… by living my life to the
fullest… but it seems so empty… without him.”

Círdan wondered if Lindir’s calm should worry him.
Sitting upright as well, he probed Lindir’s eyes. “You
are much stronger than you think. Ereinion knew that.
The strength you need is already inside you. You only
need to let it in.” Círdan moved a little closer and
stared deeply into Lindir’s eyes. “The real question
is; do you want to move on? Can you accept that you
are a survivor?” 

“Looks like… I will find out.”

Círdan finally let a genuine smile come through. With
those words, Lindir had admitted the willingness to
try – the white-haired Elf’s need to drown in
self-pity had lessened. “You are strong and a
survivor. Ereinion believed in you for a reason, did
he not?”

“How can I be anything less? I will honor him by
living up to his expectations, but I won’t find any
happiness in this lonely life.”

Círdan allowed the bitter comment, knowing he had won
the first fight in the long war for Lindir’s recovery.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We are agreed, then,” said Manwë, after conversing
with Námo and Vairë.  

“Aye.” Námo exchanged a pleased glance with his wife.
“Eru’s will shall be done.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lindir recovered little by little. Gradually, he grew
stronger and Elrond allowed him to leave his bed after
one week had passed. Someone was always close to the
minstrel, but most of the time it was Círdan, who was
regularly found hovering close to the recuperating
Elf. 

Glorfindel had taken it upon himself to organize
Imladris’ defenses and accepted the position of
Captain of the Guard when Elrond officially offered it
to him. Having a place to call home again felt good
and did wonders for the warrior, whose inner lights
glowed more radiant with every passing day. 

However, Glorfindel remained worried about Elrond. The
half-Elf worked long hours and hard. Elrond worked
with the healers in the morning, trained alongside the
guards in the afternoon and saw to the paperwork that
filled his desk in the evening. The weight, which
Elrond had lost in the last weeks of that war, was
never regained and the half-Elf remained too skinny
for Glorfindel’s taste, but he kept his opinion to
himself, not wanting to offend. 

Círdan however, didn’t kept silent and one evening,
whilst eating dinner, he addressed the matter.
“Elrond, you need to rest. Ever since we lost Ereinion
you have been running yourself ragged. Even you need
to rest.”

“I appreciate your concern,” said Elrond, pushing away
his plate as he was no longer hungry. “But there is so
much work to be done.”

“Then enlist help,” suggested Glorfindel, who decided
to support Círdan in this matter. “You are doing the
work of several Elves.”

Lindir, who had remained quiet, continued to play with
his food and studied Elrond for the first time in
weeks. Ever since the half-Elf had woken him from his
trance he had avoided dealing with Elrond, as a part
of him blamed the half-Elf for making him face life
without Ereinion. But, as he looked closely, he had to
admit both Elves were right. Elrond looked worn down.
“I can help… If you want my assistance, that is.”

Three pairs of eyes widened at hearing his offer.
Lindir knew he had surprised them by offering his
services, but for him it was an essential step in his
recovery. He had promised Círdan to find work, which
he would enjoy doing and keep him busy. Helping Elrond
seemed the right thing to do. Círdan had suggested
practicing playing his lyre and composing songs, but
it was too early to take that step. He knew that once
he reached for the harp and expressed his feelings, a
new emotional storm would come over him and he wasn’t
ready yet to deal with that. He had to take this step
by step.

“You?” Realizing how that must have sounded, Elrond
quickly apologized. “I did not mean to offend you,
Lindir, but I thought…”

“That I preferred not to be around you?” Lindir drew
in a deep breath and felt grateful that the four of
them were having dinner in the privacy of Elrond’s
rooms. He wouldn’t have felt comfortable addressing
this in the Hall of Fire where they would be
surrounded by Elrond’s household. “It is true that I
resented you for waking me from my trance, but Círdan
and I talked and I realized that I was doing you an
injustice. You did what you thought was right for me.”

“That is true,” said Elrond, quickly. “I did not think
it would be good for you to remain in such a state
much longer. I was only trying to help.”

Lindir smiled at Elrond – his first real smile since
losing Ereinion. “I trust you will accept my offer,
then?”

“I will, but…”

“But what?” Lindir’s eyes narrowed.

“I hope that the day will come when you will take your
rightful place as the head minstrel in my house.”
Elrond gave Lindir a shy look.

Lindir nodded once. “Maybe, when the time comes.”
Considering the matter dealt with, Lindir reluctantly
ate some of the fish and potatoes. He wasn’t hungry,
but Círdan’s expression told him to eat or else he
would face another lecture.

Glorfindel had watched Lindir during the conversation
and he took heart, realizing his friend was growing
stronger. Losing Ereinion would affect the minstrel
forever, but at least, Lindir was willing to rebuild
his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ereinion was growing weary of this cat and mouse game.
Each evening – well, he assumed it was evening – he
heard soft footfalls in the corridor and when he went
to check, the stranger was already gone. 

Standing next to his bed, he tried to decide what to
do. He could lie down, close his eyes and dream of his
lost love – of his lovely Lindir. Or, he could stay
awake and try to catch this mysterious stranger. 

“Does something trouble you?” Turgon entered and
advanced on his successor. “I know that the Halls
aren’t the most pleasant place to dwell, but one grows
used to it.” Like so many Elves he had accepted his
destiny and had found some measure of peace in doing
so. But Ereinion hadn’t reached that stage yet. 

Ereinion turned and looked at the former King of
Gondolin. “Do you hear someone walk the corridors at
night? Soft footfalls, almost dragging through the
corridor?”

Turgon raised an eyebrow. “Never. Are you certain you
actually hear this at night? Maybe it only happens in
your dreams?”

“I am quite certain he is real,” said Ereinion in a
thoughtful voice. “I have seen his eyes once. They are
dark and haunted.”

Turgon shook his head. “I know of no one like that,
meldir.” 

“Forget I ever mentioned it, then.” Ereinion forced a
smile onto his face. “Let us join the others and
remember times gone by.” He would stay for a little
while and return in time to catch the mysterious Elf.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Adar? Explain to me why Ereinion can hear and see
him?” Erestor was intrigued by this development. “Part
of his punishment is to walk these Halls alone and
unseen. You changed that. Why?” His father would never
cease to amaze him!

Námo gave his son a wicked smile. “I am only carrying
out Eru’s will.” 

“But what is the purpose of all this? Why change the
terms of his punishment?” 

“Things change, Erestor. And sometimes, we need to
change with them.” Námo gave Erestor a profound look.
“You will learn that lesson in time.”

Erestor frowned; he didn’t like the way that sounded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

/I will find out who you are and why no one else hears
or sees you./ Ereinion had asked several Elves about
the mysterious stranger that passed by his door every
night, but no one had ever noticed him. /It is like
you are invisible to everyone, except me. Now, why is
that?/

Ereinion left his door open and pushed a chair closer
to the doorway. He lit several candles and then sat
down, waiting for the other Elf to appear again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You should lie down, Elrond. You look tired.” Lindir
had been working with Elrond for one week now and
found himself performing many duties he had also
performed when he had assisted Ereinion. Most of the
paperwork was his responsibility now, but Elrond still
tried to help whenever he could. “It is late and Ithil
has already risen. You should rest, Elrond.”

Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose. “These are
letters I have to answer personally and they cannot
wait.” One was from Thranduil, who insisted they
discussed the circumstances of his father’s death and
the letter was full of insults and accusations.
Reading it had caused him to develop a severe
headache. The second one was from the Lady Galadriel
and Lord Celeborn, requesting permission to visit
Imladris to tighten relationships between their
realms. This was a very important letter and Elrond
wanted to make the best possible impression by
answering it. The Golden Wood would be a powerful
ally. “I will rest later.”

Elrond briefly swayed on his feet, but Lindir caught
it. /Someone has to protect him from himself. Ereinion
was like that too – always working too hard./ Thinking
of his beloved caused him pain, but instead of causing
him to grow depressed, he found strength in
remembering the happy moments they had shared. 

“Melpomaen?” Lindir had quickly enlisted the younger
Elf as his assistant, easing Elrond’s workload even
further by delegating certain matters to Melpomaen.
“Would you fetch Círdan for me?”

Melpomaen nodded and left to do Lindir’s bidding. 

“Why are you sending for Círdan?” Elrond quickly sat
down and rested his head against the comfort of his
chair. He knew he was overdoing it, but every
beginning was a fragile time, and Imladris was still
fragile until every aspect had been taken care of.  

Lindir chose not to answer that question and when he
looked at Elrond, he found that the half-Elf’s eyes
were closing. For one moment he panicked, but then
reminded himself that Elrond slept with his eyes
closed whenever exhaustion was upon him. 

Círdan entered a few minutes later and gave Lindir a
questioning glance. He would leave Imladris tomorrow
and knew Lindir wasn’t pleased about that, but he
couldn’t stay much longer. He was needed at the
Havens. “You sent for me?”

“Elrond refuses to rest. Would you escort him to his
rooms?” Lindir gave Círdan a conspiring smile. “He
won’t fight you.” Oh, he would miss Círdan! The
Shipwright had always been important to him, and
having him at his side after Ereinion had died had
been a true blessing. He only hoped he could cope once
Círdan was gone.

“I will take him to his rooms,” said Círdan, smiling
brightly. He walked toward Elrond and slowly pulled
the protesting half-Elf to his feet. “Now, do not
fight me, pen-neth3.”

Elrond considered doing just that, but then realized
resistance was probably futile. “I will get you for
this, Lindir,” he whispered in a sleepy voice. 

Lindir grinned. Seeing that grin made Círdan’s heart
feel lighter. /He is dealing with the loss and moving
on. I can leave, knowing he will continue to improve./


Lindir waited for Círdan and Elrond to leave and then
told Melpomaen to close the door. “Let us start with
writing a reply to the Lord and Lady of the Golden
Wood. We have a lot of work to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You should take better care of yourself,” said
Círdan, assisting Elrond in lying down on his bed.
“You are all we have left.” The moment the words left
his lips, he realized just why Elrond had been pushing
himself so hard. 

“Exactly,” whispered Elrond in a sleepy voice. He
turned onto his side and curled up into a fetal
position. “I cannot let… them… down.” His breathing
evened out, the eyes closed and sleep claimed him. 

“I should have realized so before.” Círdan remained
standing near the bed. They had placed all
responsibility on Elrond – unwillingly and unknowingly
– and Elrond had accepted his new, unofficial
leadership. “I wish I could stay and rectify things…”
But his presence at the Havens was required. But,
maybe there was another way. All he needed to do was
write Celeborn a letter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel was beginning to feel at home in Imladris.
In the morning, he looked over the duty rosters, in
the afternoon, he trained with his guards and in the
evening he had dinner with his friends. In some ways
his life here resembled his life in Gondolin. 

Except for the fact that it felt like something
profound – something very important was missing from
his life. 

“Did I actually manage to catch you thinking?” Lindir
smiled, teasingly, and then sat cross-legged on the
grass next to Glorfindel. 

Glorfindel laughed. “I *do* think occasionally!” 

“I know you do.” Lindir rested his hand on
Glorfindel’s and stroked the skin beneath his
fingertips. “Care to share your thoughts with me?”

“Something is missing from my life.”

“Not something – someone,” corrected Lindir. Ever
since that day in Lindon, he had refrained from
discussing Erestor, suspecting mentioning him would
only upset Glorfindel. And he hadn’t wanted to do that
so shortly after Glorfindel’s rebirth. But the
situation was different now; the threat Sauron had
posed was momentarily gone and they lived in peace.
The time had come to focus on personal matters. 

“You would probably say I am missing Erestor.”

/Ah, my words really made you think!/ That development
pleased Lindir, who still had hopes that Glorfindel
might remember his bonded mate one day. “Why do you
think that?” Glorfindel’s fingers touched the locket
and Lindir realized that the golden-haired warrior had
never taken it off. Glorfindel had even worn it on the
battlefields. 

“You said that this Elf, called Erestor, was my bonded
mate. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot remember
him. It is like he never existed.”

“Then whose lock sits inside your locket?”

Glorfindel sighed. “I do not know the answer to that
question. But you were right; it is not Ecthelion’s.
His hair was not raven.” And he couldn’t remember an
Elf with raven hair. 

“I believe Erestor is still alive and trying to find
his way back to you. I do not know what happened to
him after Gondolin fell, but…” Lindir scooted closer
and continued once Glorfindel had made eye-contact.
“But you always told him to carry on, even if you died
in battle. You told Erestor the same thing Ereinion
told me. I could not die, even though I wanted to.
Neither could Erestor.”

Glorfindel cringed, seeing the way Lindir’s eyes were
growing watered. “I am sorry he had to die. Maybe if I
had been faster, more alert…”

Lindir shook his head. “Nay, it was his destiny to die
that day. Ereinion had had dreams – visions – that
announced his death.” Tears leaked from his foggy eyes
and he resolutely wiped them away. “I will honor him
by living my life, but not a single day passes by when
I do not miss him.”

Glorfindel wrapped Lindir in a warm embrace. “You have
a life here now. You have friends here.” And who knew?
Maybe – in time – Lindir would find a new love. He
hoped so, for his friend’s sake. Lindir was too kind
and lovable a person to remain alone for the rest of
his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The footfalls weren’t soft tonight. They were heavy
and pronounced, and seemed to drag down the corridor.
That was the moment Ereinion had been waiting for.
Stretching his long legs, they easily covered the
space before his doorway and blocked the stranger’s
path. 

Ereinion’s eyes narrowed, seeing a cloud of darkness
approach. Looking closely, he realized he could see
the shape of an Elf. An Elf who was forced to a stop
when coming up against the barrier his legs presented.


“Let me pass.” 

The voice was deep and hollow and the words were
spoken in an aggravated and sorrow-burdened tone.
Ereinion forced the urge to move and remained
motionless. 

“Let me pass.”

More pain – more misery -- colored the ghost-like
voice and hearing it filled Ereinion with immense
sorrow. “I desire to talk to you. Please come inside
and sit by my fire.” He had built that fire with a
purpose; not only would it warm the room, but it would
also illuminate it and give him a chance to discern
the stranger’s features. 

“Let me pass.”

“Not before you answer my questions.” Ereinion left
the chair in a heartbeat and stood in front of the
dark-clad Elf, cutting the stranger off from the rest
of the corridor. The other Elf was cornered – and the
stranger knew it.

“You are not supposed to talk to me.” None of the
fëar3 was supposed to hear or see him! Part of his
punishment was solitude, to be locked out and
forgotten. How was it then possible that this one soul
had noticed him? And why was the soul inviting him
into his room? 

It was almost impossible to discern any features in
the darkness that surrounded this one. The only thing
Ereinion clearly noticed were the dark eyes, filled
with regrets. “I am not one to follow orders.”

“Even when they come from Námo himself?” He was
confused. Why was this happening? Nothing like this
had ever happened before and he had been walking these
Halls for millennia now. He knew he deserved this
punishment and had accepted it, knowing he was damned
for all eternity. The things he had done – the crimes
he had committed – had blackened his fëa4 and the
Valar’s ruling had been milder than he had thought.
That had been at first, when he hadn’t fully realized
that being invisible to them was the worst possible
sentence. “You should listen to the Vala and let me
pass.”

Ereinion had always enjoyed a challenge. “Come inside
and sit by my fire. Answer my questions and should
your replies be satisfactory, I will let you go.”

“You cannot be serious! You will bring down the wrath
of Námo upon yourself by doing so! Do you not
understand that I am to be ignored?”

“Now tell me, why is that?” Ereinion leaned against
the wall in a casual manner. It was obvious that the
other Elf wanted to flee, but his path was blocked. 

“I must walk these Halls alone! Such is my punishment.
Now let me pass. I hope for your sake that Námo has
not noticed that you stopped me and talked to me.”
When he had still been alive, he had stopped being
concerned for others early in life, but his solitude
had changed him and he didn’t want to get this soul to
get into trouble for showing curiosity and maybe even
compassion. 

“Námo already knows and warned me. Not that I pay such
warnings much attention.” 

Ereinion’s words caused him distress. “You should not
defy him. He is more powerful than you know.”

Ereinion had achieved one goal already; he had engaged
this stranger in conversation and it didn’t matter if
they were bickering. It kept the other Elf in place.
“I repeat my offer, knowing full well that Námo might
not approve. Come inside and warm yourself by my
fire.” /I doubt Námo disapproves,/ he thought to
himself. /If he did, he would have appeared by now.
Námo knows we are talking and has not interfered yet./
Námo might be cunning, but so was he. 

“I should not.” But the invitation was tempting. It
had been millennia since he had last talked to
someone, had sat at someone’s fireplace and had
enjoyed some sort of company. “Nay, I cannot.”
Ereinion’s next action took him completely by
surprise. The former High-King extended a hand and
reached into the darkness surrounding him, taking hold
of his arm. His eyes widened; this was most unexpected
and unheard of! The Valar had taken away his form,
damning him to live without a body image! So how could
it be that this Elf was touching him?

“You are insulting me and my hospitality by declining
my offer. Surely, you would not begrudge a dead
High-King your company?” Ereinion was surprised when
those words made the stranger tremble violently. The
cold flesh beneath his fingertips grew goose bumps. 

“Who are you?” Until now, he hadn’t bothered to ask
that question, but…

“My name is Ereinion Gil-Galad. I was the last
High-King of the Noldor.”

“Turgon’s successor and Fingon’s son.” Had he not been
dead already, he would have died again out of fright
and shame. “Let me go.” He tried to shake off
Ereinion’s arm, but failed. The other Elf’s hold was
too strong.

“Nay, you will come inside with me, warm yourself at
my fire and we will talk.” He was used to others
following his orders, not protesting them!

“Listen to me, sire. I am saying this for your own
good! Let go of me and let me pass. Whenever you hear
me walk the corridor, turn away from me and do not
hear me!” His actions had condemned one High-King to
death, and he didn’t want Ereinion to suffer because
he was talking to him. “Námo will punish you if you do
not heed my words!”

“I doubt that.” Ereinion made up his mind and pulled
the stranger inside – into the light of the room and
then flung the door shut, effectively trapping the
stranger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond smiled at Lindir, who sat on the windowsill of
his study, softly plucking at the strings of his lyre.
Lindir had turned many of his duties over to
Melpomaen, who had become Elrond’s personal assistant.
Lindir, in turn, had dedicated himself to his music
again and once more was becoming the master-minstrel
he had been in the past. 

Aye, life was good, thought Elrond, pleased. His
household was well-organized these days. Melpomaen saw
to most of the paperwork, Glorfindel organized the
patrols and Imladris’ defenses, and Lindir had found
his love for music again. 

“My Lord, are there any last-minute arrangements I
need to take care of concerning the arrival of the
royal couple?” Melpomaen smiled, happy that he had
been able to contribute in his own way to make
Imladris their home. He respected the half-Elf and had
grown protective of his Lord over the years. That
feeling had lessened somewhat, when Elrond had finally
begun to take care of his needs. The half-Elf had put
on some weight, took personal time off and enjoyed
life as it was supposed to be enjoyed.

“Not to my knowledge. Thank you, meldir. That should
be all for today.”

“The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood will arrive in
the morning,” said Glorfindel, entering Elrond’s
study. “The border guards already sighted them.”

“We are prepared for their arrival.” Elrond stretched
his long legs and closed his eyes, enjoying this
perfect moment in time. He was amongst friends, Lindir
was playing a lovely melody and the sun warmed him.
What more could he want? 

/A wife and children,/ supplied his subconscious. 

Elrond drew in a deep breath. Aye, it was true that he
was ready to take a wife and sire children, but he
wasn’t talented in the way of courting. Whenever he
was in the company of a she-Elf, he would start
stuttering and blushing. He had labeled himself a
hopeless case and had given up on finding someone
willing to accept the stuttering fool he turned into
at such moments.

Glorfindel sat down on the corner of the oak desk and
exchanged a wicked look with Lindir. The minstrel
caught it and raised an eyebrow, prompting Glorfindel
to share whatever information he was keeping back.
“Lord Celeborn is in the company of two she-Elves, not
just one.”

Elrond’s eyes opened abruptly. “What?” He only
expected the Lady Galadriel to accompany Celeborn!
During their prior visits, they had never brought
another she-Elf along! Neither had the couple informed
him of this development!

“One of the border guards, who has family in the
Golden Wood, identified the second she-Elf as the Lady
Celebrían.” Glorfindel chuckled, seeing the startled
expression in Elrond’s eyes. He had long grown used to
the scheming of royal houses and had realized why the
couple would bring along their daughter for this
particular visit. The Lady Celebrían seemed the
perfect choice. “A marriage would strengthen the
alliance between Imladris and Lothlórien.”

“A marriage?” Elrond jumped to his feet. “Marriage?”

“Calm yourself, Elrond!” Lindir placed aside his lyre,
rose, and advanced on the half-Elf. “Didn’t you
express the wish to start a family?”
 
“I only divulged that information to the two of you!
Which one told on me?”

“The Lady Galadriel is gifted with foresight, meldir,”
said Glorfindel. “She does not need us to supply her
with such information.” Amused, he watched Elrond
pace. He had seen Elrond’s clumsy attempts before when
speaking to she-Elves and hoped things would be
different with Celebrían. 

“I understand, Elrond. I really do. You have only
known war… You were raised amongst males and were
seldom around she-Elves. You feel insecure. But that
feeling will pass. Give her a chance. Who knows, maybe
the Lady Celebrían will find you charming.”

Elrond gave Glorfindel a pleading look. “I *am* ready
to settle down, marry, and sire children. I want that
more than anything, but…”

“Do not worry that much.” Lindir squeezed Elrond’s
shoulder. “Stop trying to control the situation. Meet
with her and find out if you like her.”

“Your advice is wise,” said Elrond, growing a little
more hopeful. He really wanted that – a wife and
children. He was ready to be a husband and a father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Erestor hurried to consult with his father. “Adar,
Ereinion, he…”

Námo raised a hand to stop Erestor. “I know what is
happening. I know everything that lies in the will of
Eru. Do you think I would allow for this to happen if
it was not Eru’s will?”

“You are given him a chance to redeem himself? But I
thought his punishment was to last forever!” Erestor
had mixed feelings about this development. For a long
time he had hated the traitor, but that had changed
during these last few years. That hatred had changed
into pity. 

“We all make mistakes, Erestor. You made yours, didn’t
you?” Námo advanced on his son and placed his hands on
Erestor’s shoulders. “You suffer from the consequences
of your decisions – do you think that will last
forever?”

Erestor frowned. “What are you trying to tell me?” 

“Nothing last forever. Punishment serves a purpose.
Once that purpose has been served it is time for
change. Change is upon him now, and Ereinion.”

“Tell me more.”

Námo nodded, realizing it was time to confide in
Erestor. “Manwë and I are carrying out Eru’s will.
Always remember that.”

“What is his will then?” 

“Eru is willing to give the traitor a chance to redeem
himself. Should he find true love in these Halls, he
will be released from his punishment.”

“But Ereinion does not even know who he is
befriending!”

“Do you think so? I always thought of Ereinion as
intelligent and cunning. If he has not realized his
guest’s identity by now, he will shortly.” Námo
shrugged his shoulders. “Will learning his identity
make a difference to Ereinion? I do not think so.”

Erestor stared at his father in surprise. “You want
him to find redemption?”

“Do you know what made Maeglin the way he was? Do you
know what happened to him? Do you?”

“Nay, I do not.” Erestor lowered his eyes.

“But I do. And so does Eru. Erestor, each fëa is
precious, even Maeglin’s. Even more so if it can be
reclaimed for good.”

“Why Ereinion? He loves Lindir!” 

“Exactly! That is why! Ereinion has a loving and
forgiving heart. You might think that it was my doing
– that Ereinion heard and then saw Maeglin. But you
are wrong. It was his compassionate nature that
noticed the suffering soul.”

Erestor truly didn’t know what to think of this
development. “Maeglin caused the death of so many,
Adar. How can Eru offer him a chance to redeem
himself?”

Námo’s eyes hardened. “You lied to Glorfindel and he
rejected you. Tell me, do you deserve a chance to
redeem yourself?”

That question impacted hard and Erestor flinched. “I
lost his love.”

“You did not answer my question.” Námo hated pushing
his son like this, but it was necessary. 

“I do not.”

“Be honest!” Námo shook his head and rephrased his
question. “Do you think Eru deems you worthy of a
second chance?”

Erestor, who had bowed his head, now looked his father
in the eye. His own eyes were shedding tears, as his
love for Glorfindel tore him apart. “I do not know…”
But then… “Tell me, do you know if he deems me
worthy?” The smile Námo gave him made his skin crawl.
“Does he?”

“You will find out in time. Now, go and see to the
souls’ needs. Do not meddle with Maeglin and
Ereinion.” Seeing his son’s shocked expression, he
turned around and left the room, leaving Erestor
brooding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lord Celeborn, I bid you welcome to Imladris.”
Elrond, dressed in formal robes, welcomed the ruler of
the Golden Wood, but his eyes already drifted off to
Celebrían. She was a lovely vision of white, silver
and mithril and his heart beat harder, finding her
smiling back at him. 

Celeborn slid of his stallion’s back and then helped
his wife dismount as well. Galadriel smiled at Elrond
and her eyes devoured the half-Elf’s form. 

Elrond felt uncomfortable beneath her probing, but
didn’t let it show. It felt like she was judging him –
seeing if he was worthy of her daughter’s hand in
marriage. But surely, the Lady of the Golden Wood
wouldn’t move that fast?

“This is our daughter, Celebrían,” said Galadriel.

Glorfindel helped Celebrían dismount and gave her a
warm smile. 

Celebrían returned that smile, but then her eyes
returned to rest on the half-Elf. She walked toward
Elrond and inclined her head in respect. “I have heard
many tales of your bravery, my Lord Elrond, and I am
honored to finally make your acquaintance.”

“The honor is mine,” said Elrond, quickly. His pulse
raced and he worried he might grow flustered now that
their eyes met again, but he managed to control his
fierce emotions and bowed respectfully. “I hope you
will find your stay in Imladris enjoyable.”

Celebrían sought out her mother’s eyes and nodded
once. Galadriel had been right – Elrond was
attractive, desirable *and* the perfect match. She
would allow the half-Elf to court her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maeglin felt terrified, now that Ereinion had closed
the door behind him. It had been millennia since he
had last talked to someone – really talked – and the
prospect of Ereinion finding out his real identity
scared him. 

“Sit down near the fire.” Ereinion pulled his chair
closer to the fire and seated himself. He raised an
arm and gestured for his guest to do the same. 

“Let me go.” Maeglin glanced at the door, his
nervousness growing. He had tried opening doors when
he had first begun walking the Halls, but his hand had
passed through the doorknob, and he had been unable to
open or close anything. He was trapped in here until
Ereinion would set him free again. 

“Not before we have talked. Sit down.” Ereinion’s
thoughts raced. He had reached a conclusion he
couldn’t believe, but it was the only plausible
explanation. This Elf had to be Maeglin, the traitor
who had condemned Gondolin to her terrible fate.
“Please, sit.”

Maeglin complied, realizing he didn’t have a choice.
For the first time in millennia he sat down, resting
his weary fëa. He had walked without interruptions for
millennia and to sit down near the fire was something
he had thought he would never do again. “You will get
into trouble with Námo because of this.”

“So be it, then.” Ereinion wasn’t impressed. He used
the fire’s light to study Maeglin. The face, which
must have been handsome in life, was now scarred.
Burns had left their marks on the once fair skin. The
eyes were dark and haunted and spoke of many emotions.
He thought he saw pain there, regrets and longing. The
long, dark mane hadn’t escaped the attention of the
fire and the scalp showed several bald spots. 

Feeling Ereinion’s eyes upon him, Maeglin pulled the
hood closer to his face, trying to hide in its
shadows. “Why won’t you let me go?”

Ereinion decided to be honest. “I am drawn close to
your pain and suffering. I would like to lessen your
burden.”

“You should not even be thinking of doing such a
thing! I deserve my punishment and I accepted that I
will suffer for my mistakes for the rest of my
existence! You are not allowed to meddle!”

Maeglin’s feverish tone surprised Ereinion. “Then make
me understand! Tell me your history.”

“You do not know what you are asking for! There are
horrid things in my past, things, which should never
be spoken of! I did my best to bury them, but…” They
had haunted him his entire life, driving him into
darkness. He withdrew further into his hood and closed
his eyes. “You cannot make me voice them.”

“Oh, but I can and I will,” said Ereinion, steadfast.
He didn’t know if this was what Námo wanted him to do,
but why else would the Vala instigate and allow this?
“I will only let you leave *after* you have told me
your life’s history. And I want to hear everything.
Every little detail. No matter how ashamed you might
feel to tell me.”

/He knows!/ Maeglin panicked. Did Ereinion really know
his identity? Or did the former High-King only suspect
who he was? “I cannot do that. Do not ask that of me.”

“I insist you tell me.” Ereinion didn’t know why this
was important, but his instincts told him it was the
right path to take. In the corner behind Maeglin a
shadow moved and his eyes narrowed, realizing it was
Námo standing there. Had Maeglin been right and would
he be punished for showing compassion?

But Námo only nodded once and then the Vala’s thoughts
came to him. /You made the right decision. Maeglin
needs to be confronted with his past. You have
permission to proceed./

Any lingering doubts he might have had about the
stranger’s identity had been taken away by Námo’s
words. This *was* Maeglin, and as far as he could
tell, Námo wanted him to do this! 

Maeglin, unaware of Námo’s presence, tried to make
himself as small as possible in his chair. “Do not
make me do this. You have no idea what vile things lie
in my past.”

“Then we will uncover them and deal with them.”
Ereinion wondered if Maeglin was referring to his
betrayal or something else. “You *will* tell me.”

Maeglin shook his head. “You will hate me after
learning who and what I am.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” He already knew his
guest’s identity, and although he felt on guard, he
found that he didn’t hate Maeglin. How could he hate
the pitiful specter the once proud Elf-Lord had
become?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Imladris is an enchanting place. You chose the
location well.” Celebrían walked next to Elrond, who
was showing her around the rose gardens. Her first
impression of him had encouraged her to seek the
half-Elf out again, and her parents had been delighted
to find she enjoyed his company.

“Thank you,” said Elrond, blushing to the roots of his
hair. 

“You are charming as well.” She wanted him to feel
comfortable around her and found his blush endearing. 

“You must excuse my clumsy manners,” began Elrond,
shyly seeking out her eyes. “I do not have much
experience courting a she-Elf.” He hoped he hadn’t
made things even worse by admitting the truth to her.
Celebrían had been here for two weeks and they had
begun to spend more time with each other. It had
surprised him that it was *she* who sought out his
company. Despite his obvious nervousness, she seemed
to like him. 

She coughed, clearing her throat. “Why don’t we sit
down for a moment?” She pointed at an elegantly
carved, wooden bench, walked toward it, and seated
herself. Elrond, she noticed, sat down at a respectful
distance so their bodies didn’t touch – such a pity.
“My parents asked me to come to Imladris for a reason.
I believe you are aware of that reason.”

“I think I am.” Elrond’s blush deepened. “Your father
told me that he hopes we will marry eventually.”

She nodded once. “And what are your thoughts regarding
a possible marriage?” 

Elrond squirmed. Had she really asked him that? “I am
not averse to marrying you.”

Celebrían’s hope blossomed. “And why is that? Merely
because our marriage would strengthen the bond between
our realms, or is there more?” She hoped there was
more!

Nervously, Elrond moistened his lips and wrung his
hands, which moved restlessly in his lap. “I… I think
there is more… on my part that is.” He still thought
Celeborn was pushing too hard, too fast, by constantly
inquiring if he had already set a wedding date. But
the ruler of the Golden Wood was relentless and Elrond
was beginning to feel cornered.

She sighed, relieved. “Elrond, will you look at me?”
She gathered his slightly cold and sweaty hands in
hers and rubbed them. 

Surprised at her action, Elrond looked up and met her
glance. She was lovely… truly exquisite and he had
lost his heart to her the first time he had laid eyes
upon her. In addition to her beauty, she was also
kind, friendly, intelligent and good-natured. All
these things called out to him. He wouldn’t have
agreed to court her, had her character not appealed to
him. But she was as lovely on the inside as she was on
the outside. “Why did you do that?”

She smiled and brought one of his hands close to his
lips. Tremors shook the limb when she pressed her lips
against the calloused skin. “We have known each other
for two weeks – which is short – but I cannot deny
being attracted to you.”

Her words encouraged him and he inched a little
closer. “I feel the same way about you, but aren’t we
moving too fast? A long courtship is traditional for
our people.”

She searched his gray eyes. “When I look into your
eyes I see hope there, amongst many other things.
Hope, that you have found love, am I right?”

“Aye, I am ready to wed and start a family, but only
with someone I love at my side.” Entranced, he moved
closer to her still, until their lips were only an
inch apart. “But…” 

“My mother has the gift of foresight, you know that,”
said Celebrían. “She told me that you and I are
destined to be together. And although I love my mother
dearly, I refused to agree to this marriage blindly. I
wanted to see you, talk to you and get to know you
first, and I think I am beginning to fall in love with
you, Elrond.”

Elrond’s heart missed a beat. “You are? For I feel the
same way. I want to be close to you. I am attracted to
you, but…”

“Is this a sensible thing to do?” She smiled,
finishing his question for him. “Elrond, sometimes we
must listen to our heart and feelings instead of our
head and reason.”

“I…” Lost for words, Elrond raised his right hand and
touched her silken hair. “I am afraid to touch you.”

“Why? I desire to be touched by you.” She leaned into
the touch when he caressed her hair. “My mother said
it was love at first sight for her, when she met my
father. I was skeptical, hearing that, as I had never
experienced such fierce emotions myself, but that has
changed since I met you.”

Elrond was afraid to believe she returned his
feelings, but also realized he had to act now, if he
wanted them to move forward. “May I formally court
you? Do you accept me as your potential husband?” 

Her smile was radiant and her eyes sparkled with
beginning love. “Aye, I accept you, Elrond
Half-Elven.” Leaning in closer, she took the
initiative and touched her lips to his in a first,
sweet kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maeglin squirmed on his chair. Ereinion’s
determination showed in the dark eyes and the setting
of the strong jaw. The former High-King wouldn’t allow
him to leave until he had told him everything. Could
he do that? Disclose the secrets he had kept his
entire life? Did he also have to keep those secrets in
death? 

“Take your time to make up your mind,” said Ereinion.
“I am not leaving.”

Maeglin flinched, realizing there was no way out for
him. “I will tell you, then.” And he would begin at
the beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I am so happy for you!” Glorfindel promptly buried
Elrond in a spontaneous hug. “I have seen the way she
looked at you and there is love in her eyes!” The fact
that Celebrían had accepted Elrond as her suitor
didn’t surprise him in the least!

Lindir, seated on his favorite spot in Elrond’s study
– the windowsill – smiled warmly. “She will make a
good wife and a loving mother to your children. You
chose well.”

Elrond’s face had turned crimson. Why couldn’t he
simply stop blushing? “She agreed to let me court her.
We are not married yet.”

“But you will be,” said Galadriel, entering the study.
All males rose in welcome and she smiled at all three
of them, but her gaze rested the longest on Elrond.
“You have my blessing and my husband’s to court our
daughter and to wed her. I know Celebrían will be
happy here, with you and her children.” 

“Children?” Elrond broke free from Glorfindel’s hug
and stood in front of the Lady of the Golden Wood.
“There *will* be children? Oh! I always wanted to have
children!”

“You will be the best father they could hope for and a
loving and dedicated husband to my daughter. Do not
doubt yourself so much, Elrond Half-Elven.” She smiled
at him. “Do not wait too long to propose to her,
Elrond.” After uttering those words, she left the room
chuckling. 

Elrond felt ecstatic. “We will have children! I will
be a father!” Unable to remain still, he began to pace
his study. 

Glorfindel and Lindir exchanged a smile. Galadriel was
right – Elrond would make a good husband and father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond announcing his marriage to Celebrían one month
later surprised no one. Lindir, Glorfindel and
Galadriel had already started preparations for the
upcoming wedding and most members of Elrond’s
household rejoiced for their Lord at hearing the good
news. 

The wedding itself took place in the rose garden,
beneath the star-lit sky. It was Celeborn who
performed the wedding ceremony and bound his
daughter’s soul to Elrond’s. That night, the air was
alive with magic and happiness, and all Elves joined
in the celebrations. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hidden from Elven eyes, a dark-clad Vala studied
Glorfindel, who was whirling Lindir around in dance.
His eyes had filled with tears of regrets and he
wished it was he, who was dancing with Glorfindel. But
he shouldn’t be so jealous. Lindir and Glorfindel were
friends – nothing more. 

Erestor forced his glance away from the dancing Elves
and settled on Elrond kissing Celebrían. He saw three
children in their future – twin boys and a daughter.
And aye, they would be happy, but nothing lasts
forever and even their happiness would come to an end.


He walked amongst them, unseen and his soul cried out
in need. /I want to be a part of this… I want to be a
part of Glorfindel again./ 

Námo caught his son’s thoughts, but remained hidden
from Erestor’s eyes. 

/The time has come to send him back to Arda./

Manwë’s voice came as no surprise and Námo nodded. /I
will miss him though. His presence in the Halls warms
me and brings comfort to the fëar./

/Eru’s will must be done./ 

/Aye, I understand./

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suddenly his world darkened and Erestor released a
startled yelp. It felt as if his life force was
fleeing him and he collapsed onto the earth. His eyes
closed, his breathing evened out and his body – which
had been nothing but an illusion – took on solid form.
Unconsciousness tugged at his mind and Erestor fought
it, but in the end, a black wave of sleep overwhelmed
him. 

Námo bent down and pressed a fatherly kiss on
Erestor’s brow. His work here was done, for now. As
his form vanished from Imladris, Glorfindel approached
that part of the gardens where Erestor was resting.
Soundly asleep beneath a weeping willow.


--
1  meldir (sing.) -- “male” friend (Sindarin, noun)
mell + dir
2  Peredhel (sing.) -- half-Elf (Sindarin, noun)
3  fëar (pl.) -- souls (Quenyan, noun)
4  fëa (sing.) -- soul (Quenyan, noun)
From the Council of Elrond Quenyan and Sindarin
dictionary



*****
Part 6

Elrond kissed Celebrían and his heart jumped in joy
for he was married now and Celebrían his wife! It
seemed like everything he had worked for, had fought
for, had finally been achieved. Now that Celebrían had
married him, nothing stood in his way of founding his
little family and raising his children – children,
which his wife wanted as much as he did. “You have
made me the happiest Elf alive,” whispered Elrond into
her ear. 

She sat beside him, watching everyone around them
making merry. Even her parents had joined in and were
dancing, whilst giving each other loving looks. She
knew she had made the right decision to marry Elrond
because her love for him had doubled since she had
taken him as her husband. Imladris was her new home
now and she knew Elrond would do everything within his
power to make her happy. “I love you, Elrond
Half-Elven.”

Elrond’s eyes shone with happiness, hearing those
words. Still feeling somewhat shy, he wrapped an arm
around her waist and pulled her even closer. Tonight,
they would share a bed for the first time, but he
didn’t expect them to bind yet. They had time and
would explore their love, bit by bit. He wanted them
to be lovers before they became parents. Everything
should happen in its own time. 

The only thing that saddened him was the fact that
Lindir was about to leave for the Gray Havens. Not
forever, but for a long period of time, as the
minstrel had expressed the need to have Círdan close.
Lindir was rebuilding his old persona and needed a
father-figure and friend to help him finish that
process. They would say their temporary goodbyes to
him later.

Elrond chuckled, seeing Celeborn whirl Galadriel over
the dance floor. After the wedding ceremony had been
completed, they had moved to the Hall of Fire and most
Elves were enjoying the feast. Even Mithrandir had
appeared shortly after the ceremony and had
congratulated them, hugging the couple close. The Maia
now sat near the fire, talking to young Melpomaen.
“Everyone seems happy.”

Celebrían nodded. “But I do not see Glorfindel
anymore. Why did he leave?”

“Maybe he needed some privacy. He has tried hard to
fit in and to make Imladris his new home, but I do
believe the past – and more specifically his death –
haunts him. I will talk to him in the morning.” He had
better things to do tonight besides talking to
Glorfindel. Elrond pressed a chaste kiss onto his
wife’s lips. “Are you happy too?”

“Aye, I am.” She gave him a blinding smile. “And, I
will be even happier when I hold our firstborn in my
arms.”

Elrond blushed. “I will give you as many children as
you desire.”

“I want more than just one child. Our son or daughter
should not be an only child.”

Elrond’s fingertips caressed his wife’s skin, which
was warm and inviting. “I want several children too.” 

“We will have them,” promised Celebrían, snuggling
closer to him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mithrandir smiled, seeing the newlyweds hold each
other close. Elrond had been instrumental in defeating
Sauron and he would need the half-Elf in the centuries
to come. He wanted his friend to be happy. His gaze
shifted from Elrond to Lindir, who now appeared in the
doorway. Lindir was an extraordinary soul and he hoped
the minstrel would find peace in the Gray Havens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Elrond… My Lady…” Lindir bowed, although he knew that
the couple would never insist he showed his respect in
that way. Still, he felt it was appropriate now that
the members of Elrond’s household surrounded them and
he was about to say goodbye. “I am ready to depart and
I am here to take my leave.”

Elrond reluctantly let go of his wife and walked
toward Lindir. He placed his hands on Lindir’s
shoulders and looked into the sky-blue eyes. “It pains
me to see you leave. I wish you would change your mind
and stay.”

“I cannot do that. My heart tells me to visit with
Círdan and to find peace in his presence. I need to
complete the journey I have started.” Lindir smiled,
kindly. “Rest assured that I will return, meldir1. And
when I do, it will be all of me who will offer you my
services. I need this time to truly deal with
Ereinion’s death and to find the parts of me again,
which I lost.”

“I *do* understand,” said Elrond, eventually. “But I
hate the thought that I will not have you at my side.”

“I will return to Imladris – to you, Elrond. Have
faith in me.”

Elrond drew in a deep breath. “May your journey be
swift and safe.” He had instructed twenty of his best
warriors to escort Lindir to the Havens – he wasn’t
taking any chances and their presence would ensure
Lindir’s safety.

“I will take good care of myself.” Lindir accepted and
returned the hug Elrond bestowed on him and then
looked at the Lady of Imladris, bowing respectfully.
“I will take my leave now.”

“Be safe,” whispered Celebrían, who had come to care
about the white-haired Elf in the last few weeks. “And
do return to us.”

“Thank you for your concern, my Lady. And I *will*
return to you for Imladris is my home.” Lindir graced
the couple with one last smile and then marched out of
the Hall of Fire. His heart ached to be reunited with
Círdan now that Ereinion was gone. He needed Círdan –
he needed his former savior to help him make peace
with the fact that he had lost Ereinion.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel felt lost and lonely, walking the gardens
alone in the dark of the night. Ithil was hidden
behind a host of clouds, limiting the silver rays that
managed to reach Arda. Although the wedding ceremony
had been a most joyful event, it had also made him
aware of the fact that he felt alone. Elrond had
Celebrían, Lindir was about to leave for the Gray
Havens to stay with Círdan and even Melpomaen seemed
to enjoy Mithrandir’s company for the evening. So
where did that leave him? 

All alone.

He turned right and started for the river Bruinen. He
couldn’t help but compare Gondolin to Imladris, and to
his surprise he found he liked Imladris best. There
was a peace and quiet here that Gondolin had lacked.
Imladris was a remedy for his troubled soul, which
could grow more accepting of life whilst staying here;
he had accepted that he would spend the rest of his
life here. And although he didn’t mind that, he did
mind spending it alone.

A large weeping willow appeared to his right and
seemed to magically attract him. The long branches and
the whispering leaves called out to him, and he headed
for the ancient tree, abandoning his former
destination – the Bruinen. For one moment he felt
something of a déjà vu, like he had been here before,
standing beneath the weeping willow, but that was just
in his imagination. He had never visited this part of
the gardens before!

A noise – soft breathing – attracted his attention and
Glorfindel’s brow grew furrowed. He wasn’t alone here.
Had one of the feasting Elves also found his way here
and stretched beneath the weeping willow to rest? His
hand reached for his sword – just in case he would
come upon an enemy – and he then sneaked closer, eager
to find out the other being’s identity.

The lovely vision that greeted him took away his
breath. His heartbeat sped up and his fingers almost
dropped the sword, which he quickly sheathed again –
soundlessly, so he wouldn’t disturb the Elf’s sleep. 

Glorfindel reminded himself to draw in breath and once
his surprise had dimmed, he went down on his heels to
study the stranger. Ithil broke free from the
constricting clouds and allowed him an even better
look, as he sent his silver rays down to rest on the
strange Elf. 

Sucking in his breath in wonder, Glorfindel stared –
almost entranced – at the other Elf. Long, raven hair
reached past his hips and blanketed the body. The
stranger wore formal robes, made from soft, black
velvet and was lined with azure. The eyes had closed
in sleep – which was rather unusual for their kind,
but not unheard of. It usually happened when an Elf
was extremely exhausted and would enter a healing
sleep. Glorfindel raised his hand, wanting to touch
the stranger’s face, but his fingers remained poised
in the air, unwilling to disturb the other Elf’s
sleep. 

/I have never seen him in Imladris before./ Glorfindel
prided himself on the fact that he knew every
inhabitant of the valley. This Elf was a stranger.
/Who are you and why did you come here?/ Hailed the
stranger from Mirkwood? The Havens? Or had he
accompanied the royal couple from the Golden Wood? But
no, this Elf wasn’t dressed like one of the Galadhrim.
/And what do I do with you?/ 

Although he doubted that the stranger meant harm to
Imladris, it was his task to secure the valley. This
Elf might be a safety risk. He didn’t want the Elf to
wake up, but he had little choice; he needed to
question him now.

“Wake up,” he said, shaking the raven-haired Elf
gently. There was no response and Glorfindel spoke in
a louder voice. “Wake up now.” But the other Elf
remained deeply asleep. Realizing that the healing
sleep was keeping the stranger from waking up,
Glorfindel opted for action. He moved closer, pushed
his arms beneath the back and knees, and lifted the
other Elf in his arms.

The result of his actions was that the dark mass of
hair shifted, revealing more of the stranger’s
features. /He is beautiful,/ realized Glorfindel,
feeling rather entranced. But then he remembered his
duties and steeled his heart so the attraction
wouldn’t grow. At least not until he knew the other
Elf’s reason for being here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel took the stranger to the Healing House,
where one of Elrond’s healers checked on him. The
healer found no injuries and declared the strange Elf
fit and healthy. Glorfindel sent a servant to apprise
Elrond on the strange arrival and whilst he waited for
the half-Elf to arrive, he seated himself close to the
bed, watching the dark-haired Elf sleep.

The strange feeling of déjà vu remained; he felt like
he knew this Elf, but when he searched his memory, he
found nothing that indicated he had met this person
before.

“Elrond is otherwise engaged,” said Mithrandir, upon
entering the room. “And I took it upon myself to act
in his place.” Looking at Glorfindel, the Maia caught
the grin that briefly lit the blond Elf’s features. He
didn’t have to tell Glorfindel what other activities
demanded Elrond’s attention. “So, whom did you find?”
The servant had only mentioned Glorfindel bringing a
stranger to the Healing House.

“I found him in the gardens and I tried to wake him,
but he is locked in some sort of healing sleep, which
seems odd as he sports no injuries. I am not certain
how to proceed.” Glorfindel rose from his chair and
watched Mithrandir approach the bed.

Mithrandir frowned, feeling the aura of power that
surrounded the sleeping Elf. Alerted, he addressed
Glorfindel. “Leave us alone. I wish to talk to him in
private.”

Glorfindel reluctantly left – he would have preferred
to stay and hear their exchange. He took up pacing in
the corridor instead.

Mithrandir placed his right hand on the stranger’s
brow and his frown deepened, sensing the liquid power
running through the Elf’s mind. /Elf? This is no Elf!/
Chocolate-dark eyes opened and locked with his,
momentarily stunning Mithrandir. His touch had awoken
their guest!

Erestor stared into the Maia’s eyes. “Olórin, I have
heard the tales that surround you. I never thought I
would meet you in person, though.” Still feeling
somewhat weak now that he inhabited a body again, he
remained stretched out and watched Mithrandir
carefully. 

“Who are you?” Mithrandir removed his hand and
remained on guard. He had to be sure that this one
didn’t present a threat! “I sense much power in you.”

Erestor wondered what to do. In the end, he opted for
the truth, realizing Mithrandir had sensed too much of
his power to be mislead. /And I do not want my first
words here to be lies./ Erestor slowly pushed himself
into an upright position, but then had to admit defeat
– he was still too weak to move about much – and
lowered himself onto his back again. “I am one of the
Valar.”

Mithrandir’s eyes widened; he had lived long and seen
many things, but never had he witnessed one of the
Valar walk Middle-Earth in a visible form. “Who are
you?”

“My name is Erestor, son of Vairë and Námo.” 

“I have heard rumors of your existence,” confirmed
Mithrandir, who now sat down. Shock was written all
over his face and he needed more information to
satisfy his curiosity. “But you have the body of an
Elf.”

“That is my father’s doing.”

“Námo? Why would he give his son the body of one of
the Firstborn?”

“That is a long story.” Erestor closed his eyes and
drew in a deep breath. “I missed being alive – being
able to breathe.”

“You walked Arda before? As one of the Firstborn?”
Erestor’s words had stunned Mithrandir. “How can that
be?”

Erestor’s eyes opened and fastened with Mithrandir’s.
“Do you sense evil on me, Olórin?” 

“Nay, I do not, but…” 

“My father sent me here.” Erestor chose his next words
carefully. “To help the Firstborn… to aid them in
their upcoming war against Sauron. The One Ring will
be found and it will determine Arda’s fate.” It was a
white lie. He knew that this particular future would
come to pass and that Mithrandir would try hard to
stop Sauron from being reunited with the One Ring and
he used that knowledge to his advantage. He didn’t
want to mention Glorfindel in this conversation. His
love for Glorfindel was a private matter and didn’t
belong here.

“You know the future?” He too knew this would come to
pass, but had never expected the Valar to aid them.
That went against the very nature of the Valar!

“I am not all-knowing like my father, but I do know
the future.” Erestor tried again and this time he
managed to sit upright. Ignoring the vertigo, he said,
“You cannot tell anyone who I really am.”

“You wish for secrecy? Why?” He wasn’t sure he liked
this development.

“You must accept my word for it that it is for the
best. My identity must remain a secret.”

“Your words do not make sense,” said Mithrandir,
catching Erestor flinching when he spoke those words.
“But I do not sense evil intentions on your part, and
I will do as you ask of me, but should you do anything
to harm my friends, you will answer for your actions
to me.”

“I won’t harm them,” promised Erestor. He had done
better this time. When he had woken up in Gondolin, he
had been unprepared for Turgon’s questions. This time,
he had tried to do better. “I need an ally, Olórin.
Will you help me?”

“I wish I knew your real reasons for coming here.”
Mithrandir considered everything he had learned. “I
will help you – for now.”

“Thank you,” said Erestor and the words came from the
depths of his heart. “I must ask another favor from
you.”

Mithrandir grew alert again. “What sort of favor?”

“I am a stranger here… I might know these Elves from
watching my mother weaving their lives into her
tapestries, but my knowledge of them is rather
limited.”

Mithrandir shook his head, now that the truth settled
in. This was Erestor, the son of the weaver and the
Doomsman of the Valar. What had possessed Námo to give
Erestor a Firstborn’s body?

“I need you to vouch for me… I need you to introduce
me to Elrond.” He would be here for quite some time –
or at least he hoped so – and things would be much
easier if Elrond trusted him. 

Mithrandir still didn’t feel completely convinced. “I
will do so if you tell me the *real* reason for your
coming here.”

Erestor weighed his options and in the end, he said,
“I am here to make amends. I made mistakes in the
past, when I lived in Gondolin, and I want to make
things right again.”

“And this concerns… who?” Mithrandir was stunned to
learn Erestor had lived in Gondolin. When had the
Valar begun to meddle in the affairs of the Firstborn?

“Glorfindel.”

Mithrandir’s eyebrow rose in surprise. “You are here
because of Glorfindel?”

“I wronged him in the past, Olórin. I am here to make
amends, and if I can help them fight Sauron, I will do
so. I mean well; I will harm no one.” Erestor drew in
a deep breath and looked Mithrandir in the eye. “If my
words do not convince you, I will allow you to look
into my mind so you can see for yourself.”

But Mithrandir raised a hand and shook his head again.
“That won’t be necessary.” He sensed Erestor’s
sincerity – and he sensed something else as well;
heartbreak. “I will aid you.”

“Thank you,” whispered Erestor, relieved now that he
had secured Mithrandir’s assistance. 

Mithrandir hoped that this decision wouldn’t come back
to haunt him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maeglin had fallen quiet and Ereinion leaned in
closer, carefully resting his hand on the other Elf’s
wrist. He almost pulled back, surprised at the burning
sensation that radiated from beneath the fabric of
Maeglin’s robes. 

“It is because of the fire,” said Maeglin in an
entranced voice. “I died in that fire. It closed
around me and my flesh burned – grew charred and
blistered. Even right now, it feels like I am still
burning in the fire. I can never escape those flames.”

Ereinion remembered the tale – Tuor had come to his
son and wife’s defense and the Man had thrown Maeglin
into the fire. He shivered; the thought of eternally
suffering from that fire made him uncomfortable.
Feeling Maeglin shift ever so slightly, he reminded
himself why he had reached out in the first place.
“You agreed to tell me your life’s history,” he said
in a gentle voice, hoping that Maeglin would find it
in his heart to confide in him.

“It is beyond me why you wish to hear it.” Maeglin
pulled away, unable to bear Ereinion’s kind touch any
longer. His movement caused Ereinion’s hand to slip
from his arm, breaking the contact. Maeglin seemed to
shrink against the large chair and his haunted eyes
were fixated on the fire that burned in Ereinion’s
fire place. Ereinion couldn’t help but wonder how
badly Maeglin had suffered when he had been burned
alive. Did he really want to know? “Tell me. I believe
that is important for you to do so.” Ereinion couldn’t
tell Maeglin that Námo had engineered their meeting;
Maeglin wouldn’t believe that and right now, the other
Elf didn’t need to know he was being manipulated. It
would only make Maeglin suspicious and even more
reluctant to comply. “How did it start?”

“It started the day my mother decided to leave
Gondolin. She felt trapped, like a bird in a golden
cage, and wanted out. Three warriors accompanied her,
but the four of them were separated as time passed
by.” Maeglin closed his eyes and his lungs expanded,
remembering how to draw in a deep breath as he had
done whilst alive and they now mimicked that motion.
“She roamed Eastern Beleriand for many years and for
some time she found peace. But she was a restless soul
and prone to wandering. One day she left the safety of
her cousin's dwelling and she grew lost in the
darkness. That was when *he* first noticed her.”

/Eöl lured Aredhel close./ But Ereinion didn’t speak
those words, letting Maeglin tell his tale in his own
pace. He leaned back into the chair and watched the
troubled eyes reflect their owner’s emotions. The
scars contracted on the brittle skin and Ereinion
wondered if they caused Maeglin pain. Could a fëa2
feel such physical pain? Maybe this soul did –
courtesy of the Valar as an eternal punishment.

“He did not approach her directly. The Dark Elf
probably knew she would recoil from him and reject
him. So he lured her closer, and when she was tired
and lost, she saw the light that burned in his home
and she approached. She found the doors open and
servants appeared to do her bidding. She was relieved
to have found a safe haven and did not question her
luck at first. But then *he* appeared.”

Ereinion saw the misery in Maeglin’s dark eyes and
wondered what Aredhel had told her son *exactly*. /I
will find out,/ he realized; Maeglin would tell him.

“Maybe she was briefly attracted to him – to his dark
beauty and to the will power he radiated. Maybe he
bewitched her – but that changed once she realized
that he desired to take her as his wife. She fled, but
darkness surrounded her, trapping her, and she was
forced to return to the Dark Elf.” Maeglin shivered.
His mother had told him her tale after they had safely
returned to Gondolin. But there were days when he
wished she had never confided in him. He hadn’t wanted
to know the depths of her pain and sorrow -- for it
had worsened his.

“The Dark Elf’s lust overwhelmed him and he took her
by force – against her will.” Maeglin’s fingers clawed
at the arm rest and he kept his eyes closed, unable to
meet Ereinion’s gaze now that he was making this
horrid admission. “He violated her many times… She
told me so. She would have faded, if she hadn’t found
herself pregnant.” His dark eyes fastened on Ereinion.
“Do you understand? I am a product of rape, of the
Dark Elf’s lust and my mother’s pain.”

Even though he knew he was dealing with Maeglin – the
traitor who had caused so many deaths and so much pain
– Ereinion found himself eager to reach out and
comfort this soul, but he didn’t – not yet. Maeglin
had to tell his tale first.

“My mother called me Lómion, Child of the Twilight,
but *he* never approved of that name. I always liked
that name best, for I loved my mother best and she had
given it to me. But the name was discarded and never
to be used again. For the first twelve years of my
life he did not think me worthy of a name. Secretly
though, my mother continued to call me Lómion.”

Ereinion heard the bitterness in Maeglin’s voice and
wondered what the other Elf had been like as a child.
In how many ways had Eöl corrupted his son? 

“My childhood was not happy. My mother and I lived in
constant fear of him. She tried to flee again, but she
never got very far. She always took me along, but in
the end, *he* would come for us and take us home, to
Nan Elmoth.” Maeglin laughed, bitterly. “Home? It was
our prison, not our home!”

Maeglin wondered what possessed him to tell Ereinion
these intimidate details, but he reminded himself that
he didn’t have a choice. Ereinion would not let him
leave until he had told him the truth. “I was still
young, maybe fifteen years, when I saw him rape my
mother for the first time. Until then, he had taken
precautions, so I would not see him take her against
her will, but something had changed. It almost seemed
like he wanted me to bear witness to her terror.”

Ereinion drew in a deep breath, realizing this tale
was viler than he had originally thought. He leaned in
closer and this time he succeeded in securing
Maeglin’s scarred hand, which he gently gathered in
his. His fingertips stroked the burned skin in what
was hopefully a soothing manner. “I am sorry you had
to see that.”

“If only it had stopped there.” 

Maeglin’s words caused shivers to run down Ereinion’s
spine.

“He made me watch every time he violated my mother.
Then, one day, he came to my room and…” Maeglin hid
his face in shame, pulling the hood closer. 

“I… I had no idea that…” Ereinion suddenly wondered if
he had the right to pressure Maeglin into revealing
his sad tale. But he had started now and he had to
follow through. “Did he…?”

Maeglin nodded once and his features turned grim. “He
gave me a choice – or at least he presented it to me
in that way. He told me that I could lessen my
mother’s suffering and ease her pain by taking her
place. I was only twenty-five years old and felt
rather helpless. What child does not want to ease his
mother’s suffering? I was nothing but an insecure
Elfling. What would you do?” 

Maeglin’s anxious eyes met his and Ereinion’s mouth
went dry. “He did not have the right…”

“My mother and I called him master, not husband or
father! What choice did I have? I had the chance to
ease my mother’s pain! I had the power to keep him
away from her! He would not touch her against her will
again! At least, that was what he said! That was what
he let me think!” Maeglin’s eyes filled with tears,
which he had refused to shed for millennia. “I wanted
my mother safe! I did not want her to be in pain and
cry during the night! I wanted to keep the monster out
of her bed!”

“And so he crept into yours,” said Ereinion, shaken.

“Aye, he did.” Maeglin, realizing Ereinion was holding
and stroking his hand, quickly pulled the hand away
and hid it in the folds of his robes. His expression
froze in terror, remembering that night when his
father had robbed him of his innocence. “I had been
forced to watch him take my mother against her will in
the past and I knew that if I fought him, I would end
up even more hurt. So I did not fight him and let him
do as he pleased. I bit my bottom lip until it bled
when he buried himself inside me. No scream left my
lips for I did not want to alert my mother.”

Ereinion stared at Maeglin with sympathy and pity in
his eyes. “I never knew…”

But Maeglin didn’t hear him. “I will never forget how
much it hurt. He had rolled me onto my stomach,
pressed me face down in the pillows, and then entered
me. I had never known such pain before, but I thought
of my mother and told myself that by doing this, I
would keep the Dark Elf away from her.”

Ereinion’s eyes grew moist, realizing the Elfling had
died that night and Maeglin had been born. Lómion
hadn’t survived the rape.

“He told me I had done well and that I was now truly
his son. He even said he was proud that I had accepted
my fate.” Maeglin’s voice filled with latent rage.
“The next night, he snuck into my bed again. Under the
cover of night, he tore into me, making me bleed.
After he had finished, he said he had marked me and
that my blood was the proof that I was his now. I did
not even react to his degrading comments, for I was
hurting too much. My lower body burned and blood
dripped down my thighs.”

Ereinion cried out in distress, uncertain he could
take much more of this horrible tale.

“I told you that you did not want to hear this, but
you insisted.” For one moment, malice sounded in his
voice, but it died and old pain appeared in its place.
“I thought that I had bought my mother’s freedom with
my surrender, but… I was so very wrong. I would not
find out how wrong for years.” 

Maeglin’s fingernails cut deeply into the wood,
remembering… “He took me with him on his trips to the
Dwarves. He would take me deep beneath the earth, into
their caves where the sun’s beams did not reach. He
would leave me there for days, coming to me at nights
to use my body as he pleased. During the days, I
learned all I could from the Dwarves in the hope that
it would serve me well in the future. Maybe it would
help me escape my father’s reign of terror one day.
During the nights, I forced myself to submit to his
lust.” 

Ereinion sat paralyzed, finally realizing he had
opened a can of worms by making Maeglin confront his
past. 

“We always returned *home* – to mother, and I was
always happy to see her. She seemed to grow stronger
over the years and I thought it was because *he* left
her alone now. But I was wrong. One night, he first
took his dirty pleasure from my body and then he
dragged me along to their bedroom, where he made me
watch him rape her. My sacrifice had been in vain and
I began to plot our escape.”

Although Ereinion knew how the tale would end, he
said, “Tell me what happened next.” Maeglin’s eyes
were pools of black and he wondered if the other soul
had heard him. 

“Our chance eventually came and my mother decided to
head for Gondolin. We walked day and night and never
rested, so great was our fear that *he* would find
us.” 

Maeglin’s eyes briefly became alive and sparkled with
joy. “I will never forget the first time I lay eyes
upon the Hidden City. It was the most beautiful sight
I ever saw.” Maeglin pulled his robes close, feeling
strangely exposed beneath Ereinion’s probing glance.
“The guards recognized mother and let us pass. In the
end, my uncle gave us sanctuary and we were allowed to
stay.”

/Turgon took him under his wing… Maeglin became his
confidant,/ thought Ereinion, but he didn’t interrupt
Maeglin and allowed him to continue. 

“I did not know how to act amongst these Elves. They
were full of light, radiant and friendly. I had only
known anger and aggression and that was when I made my
first mistake. Out of fear I distanced myself from
them. I grew arrogant and spiteful. Maybe some of my
father showed up in me then and…” Maeglin’s voice
broke. “I cannot continue.”

Ereinion reached for a crystal flask, filled with
wine, and poured Maeglin a glass. Finding that Námo
still supplied them with food and drink in death had
stunned him at first, but he had quickly realized that
having something that reminded him of being alive
soothed him. “Drink this.”

“I cannot. It is part of my punishment. The
‘pleasures’ of the souls are not for me.” Maeglin
sagged backwards, not caring that he looked like a
pitiful heap of emotions. 

Ereinion rose from his chair, covered the small
distance between them, and sat down on the armrest.
“Drink this.”

“I told you I cannot!” screamed Maeglin – annoyed that
Ereinion refused to listen to him. 

“Try.” Ereinion had the feeling things were changing
for Maeglin and that this was merely the beginning of
it. “Sip.”

Glaring at Ereinion, Maeglin’s shaky fingers curled
around the glass and he drank of the sweet liquid, not
expecting to actually taste the wine. But he did, and
his eyes almost bulged from their sockets. “What?” 
His hand was really *holding* the glass and not
passing through it.

Ereinion pulled his chair closer to Maeglin’s and sat
down, leaning forward. “You experienced something no
Elf – let alone an Elfling – should experience. You
did what you thought was best.”

Maeglin shook his head; feeling quite dazed, he first
stared at the wine and then slowly sipped. He couldn’t
believe he actually tasted the wine! “I should have
fought him the first time he sneaked into my bed. I
should have fought him and killed him instead of
offering myself to him. I corrupted my soul by giving
in so easily.”

“You were a child. You did not know better and you
were desperate to protect your mother. You are not to
blame.”

“Oh, but I am!” Maeglin’s bitter laugh echoed through
the room once more. “You see, I should have killed him
when I had the chance, for he followed us to Gondolin
and demanded we leave with him. The High-King did not
want us to go and gave the Dark Elf a choice. He could
either stay in Gondolin or die. Eöl wanted to make
that decision for me. He tried to kill me, Ereinion.
He wanted to kill his son.”

Ereinion knew how that fateful day had ended, but kept
quiet.

“My mother shielded me with her own body and caught
the spear destined to end my life. At first, we did
not think she was mortally wounded, but the tip
carried poison and she died that very night.” Maeglin
shivered. “Her soul dwells here. I have watched her
from afar.”

“You never tried to approach her?”

“She cannot sense my presence. No one can – except for
you.” Maeglin frowned. “I wonder why that is.” The
empty glass almost slipped from his fingers, but
Ereinion caught it. “I should finish my tale.” The
sooner he finished it, the better, and then he could
finally leave.

“Take your time.” Ereinion had never known the real
reason for the darkness that had always clung to
Maeglin, but now he understood. As an Elfling, Maeglin
had been submitted to unthinkable abuse and it had
hindered his normal development, making him into
someone different than who he was supposed to be.

“My mother died and they threw my father over the
Northern Wall to his death. All of a sudden, I was an
orphan, set free in a world I knew nothing about.
Turgon took me under his wing and assigned me rooms
close to his. That first night, I lay awake, almost
expecting him to come to my room and claim what my
father had claimed. But he didn’t and slowly I became
less paranoid – less intimidated. And then I saw her…
Idril…”

“Idril…” Maeglin’s desire to have Idril as his wife
had caused Gondolin’s Fall for Morgoth had promised
her to him. 

Maeglin, feeling ashamed of his past actions, lowered
his eyes. Ereinion’s eyes were warm, even forgiving,
and he couldn’t deal with that. “I do not believe I
truly loved her, for I think I am incapable of love. I
coveted her. I wanted her.”

“Why did you covet her?”

“She was pure, Ereinion. She was like a Silmaril, pure
and radiant, like my mother must have been before the
Dark Elf laid his dirty hands on her.” Maeglin
shivered, realizing only too well that he had followed
in his father’s footsteps. “She was so pure that I
thought that by taking her as my wife she would wash
away my stains. She would make me whole again. She
would take away the darkness my father had tainted me
with. But she sensed my evil and turned away from me.
She chose Tuor as her husband and I believed that I
would never find redemption if I let her slip through
my fingers.”

Ereinion blinked, perplexed to hear Maeglin’s
reasoning. 

“I wanted to be as pure as she was. I wanted my
innocence back and she still possessed that innocence.
It was part of her soul and I hungered for it – for
her warmth, her acceptance… Her forgiveness.”

Ereinion placed his hand on Maeglin’s knee and
squeezed gently. “You should have sought that
forgiveness within yourself.”

“Aye, you are right, but I did not understand that at
the time. Tarnished, ashamed and angry, I believed I
could only reach redemption through her. My needs
devoured me and when Morgoth offered Idril to me…”
Growing aware of Ereinion’s hand, which rested on his
knee, he shyly sought out the brown eyes. “I fought
Morgoth at first. I sensed his evil, an evil that
reminded me of my father. I did not want to give in,
but… but he tortured me. Morgoth knew what my father
had done to me and threatened to do the same thing to
me again. His minions touched me… And just before they
intended to rape me, he offered me Idril – he offered
me my redemption. I was not thinking rationally at
that moment. His minions had forced me onto my hands
and knees and I could feel them behind me. I knew what
would happen next… and then he offered me a way out. I
was a coward and took it.” Maeglin bowed his head and
lowered his eyes. “Damning my soul further.”

Ereinion was lost for words and could only listen –
enthralled.

“When I returned to Gondolin I had changed. I had
nothing to lose and everything to gain. I had become
obsessed by Idril – by my need to make her mine. Then,
Morgoth attacked and I made my move – I went to
Idril’s house. I found them there, Idril and her son.
Eärendil, he…”

Ereinion rested his other hand on Maeglin’s back and
fought back the urge to pull away when a burning
sensation radiated from beneath the fabric. 

“He reminded me of how my life could have been if my
father had not laid his hands upon me and had left my
mother alone. Idril adored her son and Tuor loved him
dearly. I had wanted that too, but my father had been
abusive and my mother… She was a victim also. Rage
came over me and I wanted to smite him down, but… fate
decided differently. Tuor cast me into the fire and I
burned… My soul burned.”

Moved by Maeglin’s story, Ereinion rubbed the charred
back. 

“I was taken before the Valar and they decided on a
punishment for me. I was to walk these Halls for
eternity – unseen and unnoticed.” Maeglin felt
exhausted now that he had unburdened his tainted soul
for the first time in his life. “For the first hundred
years I fought their decision, but… solitude has made
me seen the wrong of my ways. I now understand that I
deserve my punishment – which was surprisingly mild. I
would have punished myself much harsher had I been
called upon to judge myself. I would have condemned
myself to burn in fire for all eternity… What I did…
The deaths I caused… I can never make amends…” 

Exhausted, Maeglin sagged forward, but was caught by
Ereinion, who quickly wrapped a steadying arm around
Maeglin, who had obviously fainted. When he had sat
Maeglin down he had never expected to hear such a
ghastly tale. Sharing his tale had worn Maeglin down
and the soul had retreated – mimicking a state of
unconsciousness.

“Now you know the ugly truth.” Námo left the shadows
of the corner and looked Ereinion in the eye. Had he
found the soul he had been hoping to find for
millennia? Was Ereinion the one destined to set
Maeglin’s tormented fëa free?

“Why me? Why did you allow me to notice him?” Ereinion
stared questioningly at the Vala. He was certain that
Námo had a hidden agenda, but what was it that the
Vala wanted from him? 

“I had nothing to do with it.” Now that was a half lie
– a white lie. “It was your compassionate nature that
noticed him.” Námo considered his next step. “Things
have changed for Lómion. Things have also changed for
you.”

“What do you want me to do? What do you want from me?”
Ereinion frowned, wondering why Námo had called
Maeglin Lómion. He just knew there was a deeper
meaning to that!

“Telling you about his ordeal has left him weak. He
has walked these Halls for millennia without a rest.
His fëa is weary.” His expression was oddly
compassionate, as he looked upon Maeglin’s crumbled
form.

“But, we – fëar3 – do not need to rest!”

“But even souls need to dream,” pointed out Námo,
softly. 

The compassionate expression, which had appeared in
Námo’s eyes earlier, worried Ereinion for some reason.
What *exactly* were the Vala’s plans for Maeglin? 

“Ereinion…I am allowing him to rest for the first time
in millennia. Maybe you should watch over him?
Nightmares will be upon him. He has never dealt with
his past and you opened old wounds.”

“I never knew… I never suspected!” Ereinion rose from
his chair, and now that his support was gone, Maeglin
began to fall forward. Ereinion quickly caught the
other Elf and carried Maeglin over to his bed, where
he gently laid him down. “Námo, I need to know why you
chose me…” Ereinion had turned around to study Námo’s
expression, but then found the Vala was gone. He was
alone with Maeglin – or should he call him Lómion?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Elrond and Glorfindel entered the
Healing House. Elrond felt relaxed and happy, after
spending the night in his wife’s arms. Glorfindel
however, had grown anxious and nervous since finding
the stranger beneath the weeping willow. 

“I am certain that there is a logical explanation for
this Elf’s presence in the gardens,” said Elrond,
trying to calm down his friend. “He was exhausted and
asleep, and thus hardly posed a threat to Imladris.”

Glorfindel didn’t know why he felt this ill at ease.
He just did. “Elrond, we need to be careful. We have
built a safe haven in this valley and we must keep it
secure.”

Elrond halted, which forced Glorfindel to come to a
stop as well. He raised a hand and placed it on his
friend’s shoulder. “Vilya keeps this valley protected.
Trust me when I say that no evil will enter unnoticed.
If this Elf presented a danger, the Ring of Power
would have let me know.”

Glorfindel eyed Vilya, which sat proudly on Elrond’s
ring finger. “You are probably right,” he admitted
with a sigh. “But I cannot help feeling protective –
Gondolin…”

“The Hidden City is no more, Glorfindel. It is in your
past. Leave it where it belongs.”

“You speak wisely. I will try to heed your words.”

“Good! And now let us visit with your mysterious Elf.”
Elrond pushed the door open and stepped inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mithrandir looked up and smiled at Elrond. “Ah, I was
wondering when you would join me!” 

The naughty twinkling in the old eyes told Elrond that
Mithrandir knew exactly why he hadn’t joined them
earlier and he grinned. “I can hardly desert my wife
on our first night as a married couple! Now, where is
that Elf Glorfindel found?” The bed was unoccupied.

“I told him to wash up.” Mithrandir raised a hand and
gestured for Elrond and Glorfindel to walk up to him.
Once the two Elves were close enough, he said, “He
hails from Mirkwood and carried a message for me. He
is a spy.” 

“He can be trusted, then?” Glorfindel frowned, deeply.

“Aye, he can be trusted. He is one of my confidants.”
Mithrandir hoped he was doing the right thing by
introducing Erestor as someone trustworthy. “He was
searching for me, but fatigue caught up with him after
his long journey and sleep overwhelmed him. He has
handed me the message in the meantime.”

“And does he have a name?” Glorfindel’s breath caught
when the stranger finally emerged from the bathroom.
Clad only in black leggings, the sight the stranger
presented was breath-taking; the long raven hair
danced – unbound – against the small of the Elf’s
back. Alabaster skin enhanced the stranger’s beauty
and the dark eyes seemed pools of midnight-sky. There
was something very familiar about that Elf, but at the
same time, Glorfindel felt on guard, as if he didn’t
trust him. 

“My name is Mornén,” said Erestor, unwilling to reveal
his real name to Glorfindel, as he didn’t know what
kind of impact hearing it would have on his former
lover. He forced himself to remain at a distance,
although he wanted to run to Glorfindel, fling himself
into the strong arms and shower the beloved face with
kisses. He couldn’t do that anymore – he had lost the
right to do so. 

Again, he asked himself why his father had sent him
back to Arda. He had never expected for that to happen
and it shocked him that Námo had actually proceeded
without consulting with him first. /I will ask him the
next time we meet./ Unfortunately, his father wasn’t
present now and he had to deal with this unexpected
situation himself. “I hail from Mirkwood – from King
Thranduil’s court.”

Elrond sighed. He had always wanted to befriend
Thranduil. The young King must have been lonely after
Oropher had died. 

“My Lord?” Erestor wondered about Elrond’s peculiar
reaction. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“I was reminded that I wanted certain matters to
develop differently in the past.” Elrond forced a weak
smile onto his face. “Will you do me the honor of
being my guest for some days? You will want to rest
before returning to Mirkwood.”

Erestor had no intention of leaving for Mirkwood. He
wanted to stay close to Glorfindel – his heart and his
love. To have Glorfindel this close was pure torment,
as he couldn’t touch him or whisper confessions of his
love. But the fact that Glorfindel tolerated his
presence encouraged him. As Námo had erased
Glorfindel’s memories of him, he hoped that the anger
was also gone. But when he studied the lovely blue
eyes closely, he still saw hints of suspicion there. 

Mithrandir, whose senses were trained on Erestor,
realized something of the tragic fate that had
befallen the Vala. “Elrond,” he said, giving his
friend a conspiring look. “Mornén has Thranduil’s
trust… maybe you should befriend him and encourage him
to stay for a longer period of time? He could act as
your liaison to Thranduil.” Although Thranduil knew
nothing of Erestor’s existence, the Woodland King did
trust the Maia and Mithrandir would act as the liaison
at first and then gradually introduce Erestor to
Thranduil as a trustworthy ally.

“That is an excellent idea,” mumbled Elrond, seeing
the chance he had been waiting for. Maybe Thranduil
and he could work on building some sort of
relationship, which would benefit both their realms.

Erestor gave Mithrandir a thankful look. The Maia’s
quick thinking had assured him of a place in Elrond’s
household.

Glorfindel cocked his head, uncertain whether to
applaud this development – because it meant Mornén
would stay – or to feel suspicious instead. His
feelings were at war with each other.

It was Erestor who eventually broke the ice. First, he
thanked Elrond. “My Lord Elrond, I won’t disappoint
you. I will work hard on improving the relationship
between Mirkwood and Imladris.” After seeing Elrond
nod his approval, he finally addressed the one he had
never stopped loving. Glorfindel was as lovely as he
had been on that first day when they had met in
Gondolin and he fell all over again for the warrior.
“My name is Mornén,” he said, privately cringing, as
he realized he was lying to Glorfindel once more. But
he couldn’t introduce himself as Erestor, and risk
Glorfindel’s memories waking up. He had to win
Glorfindel’s trust first! “May I know yours?”

“I am Glorfindel,” he said, introducing himself. 

“I am honored to meet you. Your name has become legend
amongst our people.” Erestor extended his right hand,
hoping Glorfindel would accept it. 

Glorfindel stared at the offered hand for a long
moment, realizing that for some reason he had reached
a crossroad in his life. His eyes locked with brown
ones and he shivered; they seemed so familiar! 

“Glorfindel!” Elrond, feeling awkward now that
Glorfindel didn’t shake Erestor’s hand, nudged his
friend and Captain. 

In the end, Glorfindel curled his fingers around
Erestor’s and his eyes widened, knowing upon contact
that his life was about to drastically change. But
would it be for the better?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“These will be your rooms, for now,” said Elrond, who
had walked Erestor to his temporary quarters. “In
time, I will assign permanent ones to you -- after the
wedding guests have left.” At the moment, the Last
Homely House was crowded with Elves. 

“Thank you, my Lord. You are very kind to show me to
them personally.” Erestor liked Elrond… There was much
of Eärendil in the Lord of Imladris. 

“It is no trouble,” assured Elrond. “But I must leave
now. My wife is waiting for me to join her for a walk
in the gardens.” He beamed with pride and happiness,
speaking those words.

“Then you should not make her wait.” Erestor opened
the door to his rooms and bowed respectfully. “I am at
your disposal.”

“Excellent. I will send Melpomaen to escort you to my
study when it is time for work.” Elrond felt pleased,
as he turned and exited the corridor. He finally had a
chance to work on improving relations with Thranduil.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No! Leave me be!” 

The screamed words, uttered in utmost distress caused
Ereinion to jump to his feet. He had been dozing,
seated in a chair next to the bed, and although
Maeglin’s sleep had been restless, he hadn’t expected
the violent outburst that followed. Maeglin’s haunted
eyes still carried traces of heavy sleep and the other
Elf screamed his pain at his imaginary tormentor. 

There was no doubt in Ereinion’s mind that Eöl was
very real for Maeglin as long as Maeglin was in this
state of half-sleep, and he acted quickly by sitting
down on the side of the bed, trying to calm his charge
down. “It was a nightmare – nothing but a nightmare.”

“Do not touch me!” Maeglin spat the words, raised his
arms and tried to push his assailant away. 

Maeglin’s facial expression showed fear, anger and
panic, which made Ereinion cringe. He had considered
taking Maeglin into his arms in an attempt to calm
him, but discarded that idea now, remembering the way
Lindir had reacted the first time he had tried to hug
the minstrel. He remained at a distance instead, and
tried to soothe Maeglin by speaking softly to him.
“You are safe now. He is not here. You need to wake up
and realize you are safe.” Ereinion wavered; what name
was he supposed to use? For some reason Maeglin seemed
inappropriate, though he couldn’t explain why.
“Lómion? Please wake up?”

The panic in Maeglin’s dark eyes faded and wonder
appeared instead. Returning to full awareness, he
blinked, and then recognized Ereinion seated at his
side. His head reeled after everything he had been
through and he had a hard time understanding and
accepting what had happened. “What did you call me?”
Why would Ereinion call him that?

“Lómion,” repeated Ereinion. “Did you not tell me that
you preferred that name?” Ereinion carefully reached
out and managed to cradle the other Elf’s hand in his.
His fingertips moved over the damaged skin, which
still carried imprints of the blisters and burns the
fire had left. 

“I did prefer that name, but…” Maeglin lowered his
eyes. He didn’t deserve Ereinion’s understanding and
compassion -- he had done too many evil deeds in the
past. “You should not be here – with me.”

Ereinion’s gaze was soft and kind when he raised
Maeglin’s chin to make eye contact with the other Elf.
“I really think you should not be alone right now.”

“I probably disturbed you by screaming out, but…”
Maeglin closed his eyes, unable to maintain eye
contact any longer. The compassion he saw in
Ereinion’s eyes was killing him – he didn’t deserve
it! “But it has been so long since I dreamt – since I
had a nightmare. I had forgotten what it was like.”
Suffering from nightmares was something he could
definitely do without!

“I do not mind. You have every right to scream out
your pain, for what your father did to you was wrong.”
Ereinion softly brushed the scarred skin beneath his
fingers. The hood had fallen back, revealing the full
extent of what the fire had done. Hair was missing and
black skin showed instead.

“Do not look at me like that. I beg of you – do not. I
am hideous to look at.” Maeglin kept his eyes closed
and tried to turn his head away from Ereinion, but the
fingers remained in place beneath his chin, preventing
him from looking away. “I was fair in life. Many Elves
told me so and admired my beauty, but on the inside, I
was hideous, just as hideous as I am now on the
outside. I deserve this.”

/You deserved this in the past, but you have changed./
Ereinion caressed the brittle facial skin. “Open your
eyes for me?” He had forced Maeglin to confront his
past and now he had to follow through. 

Maeglin opened his eyes, and seeing the expression in
Ereinion’s eyes caused tremors to shake his body.
There was understanding there – something he had never
expected to find.

“Tell me, how much of Lómion survived? Is there still
anything left of him?” Ereinion felt how Maeglin’s
tremors worsened; but, he had expected that particular
reaction and didn’t let it deter him from his chosen
path. “Do I still see something of him in your eyes?”

Maeglin swallowed, his throat aching as it was
painfully dry. “He died. He died when the Dark Elf
forced himself upon him.” This was one subject he
didn’t want to elaborate on. 

“Is that so? Is that the truth? If it is, then why do
you tremble beneath my touch? Why is there this need
in your eyes?”

“I do not wish to discuss this!” He had to protect
himself – the little that was left of him. Lómion
couldn’t have survived!

Ereinion knew he had to back off and allow Maeglin to
gather his strength. “It appears things have changed
for you. Námo must have approved of these changes;
otherwise they would never have taken place.”

“I do not understand why he would allow this.” Maeglin
finally found the courage to move away from Ereinion
and the former High-King’s hand dropped onto the
mattress. Maeglin looked at it with wonder – he had
felt that touch!

“By the Grace of the Valar things are changing. Maybe
they have improved?” Ereinion considered his next
step. /I have to keep him here and I have to make
certain he feels comfortable in my presence./ Ereinion
didn’t plan on letting Maeglin out of his sight. 

Maeglin stared at Ereinion’s hand, remembering how
wonderful that touch had felt. Had he ever been
touched in anything else besides lust? Aye, his mother
had touched him, but always with sorrow in her eyes
and he understood why. She had never wanted to bear
the Dark Elf a child and he even admired her for being
able to love him like she had. He was nothing but the
product of marital rape.

“Lómion?”

“Do not call me that…” Shivers ran down his spine.
“Lómion died. He is no longer alive… he cannot be…”

“Is that what you are scared of? That you found a part
of yourself you had thought lost?” Ereinion understood
why that would scare Maeglin – had he been in the
other Elf’s shoes, he would have felt terrified too. 

Maeglin’s eyes became defiant, staring into
Ereinion’s. “He is dead – ripped to pieces. Only
Maeglin – the traitor – remained.”

“I do not believe you,” said Ereinion in a calm tone.
“I believe that more of Lómion has survived than you
know – than you want to acknowledge.” Ereinion wasn’t
prepared to stop Maeglin when the other Elf leapt from
the bed and ran toward the door. He watched how
Maeglin’s fingers curled around the doorknob, and he
told himself to go after Maeglin, for else he might
never see the other Elf again, but then the finge