"I still say there's an adventure out there for you."
Lindir rolled his eyes and picked up a flute, running the oiled rag carefully along the keys. "I don't need an adventure," he said. "I've everything I need here."
With a sharp pluck, Glorfindel tested the strings on the lute he'd been tightening. "Oh I don't know. We don't frequently receive princes here..."
Lindir laughed, his joyful voice echoing through the otherwise empty Hall of Fire.
"Especially this time of year," the golden lord continued, laying aside the lute to pick up a horn in need of polishing. "I dare say winters are very uninteresting."
"I would disagree," Lindir argued, carefully turning the flute about in slender fingers. "There is little so enjoyable as sitting by a fire as the wind whips the shutters outside, sipping at a bowl of hot soup and listening to the songs and stories of those who..."
"Who have traveled and seen the world?" Glorfindel asked.
Lindir grimaced a bit, disgruntled. "I am a collector of songs and a composer of them. I am no adventurer, Glorfindel. I seek no treasure or honor. I am happy here, on this little piece of earth."
"Yes. So I see."
Spring was nearly upon them, but Imladris still had its cold days, and this day every puff of breath was visible in the frigid air. The warriors circled about the yard in a familiar rhythm as shouts and laughter rang loud and happy. Glorfindel was among them and he waved his sword in a high arc, deadly in his efficiency. His foe was forced in a roundabout circle until he called a halt. "You win, Glorf! No more!"
Lindir smiled from his distant vantage point, a high balcony overlooking the armory, stables, and the yard below where sentries and warriors of old kept their skills sharp. The pale-haired Elf himself was curled up on a high bench, wrapped in a pale blue blanket with a goblet of steaming mead cupped in his hands. He sipped casually from the cup on occasion, more concerned with watching the events below. Glorfindel had swiftly pulled the legs out from under one of his young sparring partners and Lindir echoed the laughter of the soldiers in the yard.
A deep chortle sounded behind him and Lindir turned to see Haldir approach, his plain grey cloak flaring out behind him as he walked. "Good morning, minstrel," he greeted, coming to stand at the railing and lay his strong hands upon the carved stone rail.
"Good morning, Guardian," Lindir said with a grin.
Haldir smiled at the dawn and breathed a puff of air that swirled before him a moment before disappearing. "It is a good day," he said. "A good day to spar."
Nodding agreement, Lindir asked, "Will you not join them, then?"
"Ah, but it is also a good day to sing," Haldir said with a broad smile. "Aye?"
"Oh, aye," Lindir said at once, his intense green eyes alight with interest. "You sing, then Haldir? You had not said as much."
"Oh, everyone sings," Haldir protested with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just because I enjoy it does not mean I am any good."
"I might say the same of my archery," Lindir admitted. "But I have always found that practice does no harm." He took a quick sip of his drink, smiling as the warmth curled down to his belly. "Will you sing with me then?"
"Surely."
"Will you pick the tune?"
"I'm afraid I know few ballads," Haldir said, his head lowered in something like regret. Swords clanged in the yard below. "Campaigning songs, tavern reels..." he mourned, eyes distant as he spoke.
Lindir could make no response to the suddenly melancholy Elf who had been so chipper and laid-back the past week. The bard gnawed the inside of his cheek and idly turned the glass about in his hands, watching the Elf at the balcony rail. Shouts reverberated up from the Elves who were training.
"But I do love a good song," the golden Elf murmured, his eyes seeing little as he gazed into the Imladris morning. "A tune to sooth in sad times or happy ones. Music to heal. Music can keep us whole..."
"Haldir?"
The golden mane waved as Haldir shook his head, freeing himself from whatever distraction had captured him. "I am sorry. I apologize, Lindir."
The musician shook his head.
"Would you sing for me, Lindir? I find I am suddenly not in the mood for it."
Lindir nodded. "What would you hear?"
Haldir looked to him, hazel eyes revealing a well of sadness. "A love song."
"Aye." Lindir quickly agreed and set his goblet aside. He gathered his blanket close around him and lifted his eyes to the opalescent sky. "A love song..."
And so the bard sang, the lilting tune a small hum that grew to gentle voicing of sweet words.
"Yesterday my love went away Away he went, far away I wish he would come back and stay But I know he can't He's gone away
"Today it is the month of May And my true love is still away Please come back, this I pray But I know he can't He's gone away
"Tomorrow I myself may go And follow where my heart doth flow Whichever way the winds do blow To find my love I'll steadfastly go."
Haldir looked into the yard. Glorfindel, standing against the wall where he supervised the youngsters was looking up, seeking the source of that voice. Lindir had ceased and was looking at Haldir, whose wide eyes overflowed with his sorrow. Glorfindel met those weeping eyes, and Haldir himself began to sing.
"Out of reach my love has gone Somewhere between the dusk and dawn Still my heart remains his pawn I wish mine could go Where his has gone."
Haldir abruptly turned from the balcony and walked away. He stopped, but did not look as his trembling voice reached out to Lindir. "Where may I seek you after the noontime meal?"
Lindir stared wide-eyed at his dejected form. "In the Hall of Fire."
Haldir nodded and left the balcony.
In the yard, Glorfindel curiously regarded the figures on high, their mournful song still ringing in his ears.
Glorfindel and Erestor shared the small table in the back of the kitchen where those going about their business ignored the somber Elves. Both wore Imladris brown, but Glorfindel was still in the simple tunic he wore for training, whereas Erestor continued his everyday tradition of sober robes with little decoration but for the simplest silver fillet across his brow. They had eaten in silence and now sat in weary stillness, despite the busy environment surrounding them.
Erestor frowned and grumbled, "Something's wrong."
Glorfindel ignored him.
"Fine, you go ahead and ignore me," Erestor said agreeably. "That will make this all the easier for me, especially as you know how I loathe conversation." He stopped a moment to make sure Glorfindel would remain silent. The counselor was still being ignored. Good. "Good. Well then, it seems to me I ought not make a habit of this, but I'm going to give you some advice. You see, you are as close as it comes to being a friend to me. You've gone out of your way and I appreciate it. In fact, I'd say we've gotten as close as I dare in the last few decades. And I've seen a few things I tried not to. Like the way you look at a certain bard." Glorfindel made a movement, almost like a flinch, but gave away no other reaction. "And you see," Erestor continued, "if you don't do something about it, you're going to fall deeper into depression until you're as old and cranky as I am. Yes, yes," Erestor made a waving motion as if shooing away unpleasant thoughts, "I know what they say of me. And they'll soon say the same of you if you aren't careful."
Erestor stood to come around and place a hand on Glorfindel's shoulder, perhaps the first time he had ever made such a gesture. "Seek your fortune, my friend, before it is gone forever."
Lindir was alone in the Hall of Fire, unsurprising at this time of day. Usually, the Hall was only ever opened to the crowds at sunset. But the Chief Minstrel of Imladris spent much time here, composing and practicing and spending time alone with his music. He distractedly strummed the small harp in his lap, a composition without melody that lazily drifted up and down the scales.
When the door opened silently, Lindir felt the small draft of air across his face and turned to see Haldir in the doorway. "Haldir, please come in."
The Guardian closed the door behind him and approached, his footsteps quiet on the dark wood floor. His smile was friendly, if not quite so light-hearted as it had been the past few days. "I am pleased to find you here, Lindir." Haldir took off the grey cloak that hung from broad shoulders to lay it before Lindir's feet and sit upon it as a child awaiting a story. "I wished to speak with you."
"Okay," Lindir agreed, concerned about his newfound friend, now looking up at him with deep hazel eyes. "In what regards?"
"In regards to Glorfindel."
"Oh." Lindir shuddered, hearing his own voice break on that small utterance. He pretended his tone did not quaver as he said, "What of Lord Glorfindel?"
"Of the way you look at him. Especially when you sing. Of the way he looks at you when you sing."
Lindir looked surprised at that last bit.
Haldir smiled gently up at him. "How long have you loved him?"
Lindir gulped. "Two-thousand three-hundred twenty-four years, five months, sixteen days. And, um, about five hours."
"And you never thought about, oh I don't know, doing something about this?"
Lindir shook his head nervously, pale hair waving. "No, I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because," Lindir shrugged. "He is a Lord. And a warrior! He's an advisor to my Lord Elrond and has lived through more than I can imagine."
"And a Chief Minstrel is so unworthy?"
"Well, yes."
Haldir laughed suddenly. "Never believe that, Lindir! Love happens. You never know until you ask."
It was nearly twilight. In this rare winter sunset the hues were vibrant reds and purples and oranges flooding the sky with color. "Look at the sky, Glorfindel."
Blue eyes lifted to the heavens and the golden Lord halted his steps. "Now that is something else," Glorfindel said fondly.
Haldir also stopped and together the pair of golden Elves watched until the great gold orb laid itself to bed undercover of the mountains. Yellow rays like streams of butter cut across the sky from the east and the silver stars winked into view in the west.
Glorfindel softly sang a greeting to the silver stars, but Haldir remained silent, thoughts turning over in his head as the sunlight gradually dimmed.
When Glorfindel's beautiful voice died away, Haldir spoke. "I am glad to be here with you, my friend."
Unexpectedly, Glorfindel launched himself at his companion, embracing Haldir tightly. "Oh Haldir! Me too!"
Haldir laughed, a deep, rich sound in this wintered garden. He hugged Glorfindel in turn and they laughed in the deepening night. "Walk with me," Haldir asked, taking Glorfindel's hand and leading him off down the path.
"Yes, and talk with me," Glorfindel said. "You have something on your mind, I can see it."
"Ah," Haldir hesitantly agreed. "Well, yes, you might say so."
They slowed their steps and roamed peacefully in the hibernating garden, their hands swaying between them. "So?"
"So," Haldir teasingly began, "I was wondering."
"Yes?"
"Well, I know I shouldn't, and I know it's not like me, but... I've been listening to the Imladris gossip."
Glorfindel chuckled. "I see," he said, understanding.
"And I was wondering. Is it true what they say? Of Rivendell's Chief Counselor?"
Glorfindel glanced furtively about, only half serious as he whispered, "Are you sure it is prudent to speak of such things out here in the open?"
Haldir raised an immaculate eyebrow. "I highly doubt there is one who knows not of what we speak, and there is no one here to hear us besides." An excellent point, as there was no one else about in the greying, weedy place of statues and arbors suffused with the light from a half-moon.
Nodding, Glorfindel agreed and sighed, "Ah, the ever persistent gossip. I remember many decades ago when Erestor learned just how often he features in the gossip of Imladris. The poor thing. Erestor does not take well to attention of any sort and it took many years of perseverance on my part to find his friendly nature, if you could call it that."
"You're avoiding the topic."
"Ah yes, the rumors," Glorfindel wondered to himself. He then shook his head as if to release himself from some reverie and spoke more confidently, "Oh, they're quite true. He would never say anything to me directly of course, and I would never ask him. But between us it does not need to be said. I'm afraid I'm the closest it comes to a confidant or friend for Erestor and words still do not pass easily between us. But we have little need of words. And he does not need to tell me the truth of such rumors. He is quite horrified at the gossip, though if confronted I doubt he would deny it. But he never will be. None care enough about him to truly ask, and Elrond is far too consumed in other affairs to ever notice. As for myself, you see our relationship. And I may be the only one to say with certainty that it is true: our poor Chief Counselor has been in love with Lord Elrond for countless centuries. Since before the Lord married. Since before Imladris was founded. He has led a lonely life, I fear, but seems content enough with it. Though I wish it were not so."
Haldir nodded thoughtfully, consumed with sorrow for the dark advisor whom he had only known distantly over the years.
The two Elves continued along their way in silence through the darkening night.
Elrond peered around the statue he had been sitting behind, the book in his elegant hands forgotten, grey eyes wide with shock.
Site Info
We are the home of 1292 authors from among our 2552 members. There have been 2904 reviews written about our 3820 stories consisting of 10734 chapters and 29400445 words. A special welcome to our newest member, Rosamundeb.Categories
Skin Change
Donate
Help us keep one of the oldest running LotR archives available to all. Even the smallest donation helps!
Many thanks to our previous donors!
Many thanks to our previous donors!
The Library, elsewhere
Other projects
It Happens by Ezras Persian Kitty
Chapter notes: (A week later, if it matters to you.)
