"...something to do with the grapes. You know Suldan, that's all he thinks about. It doesn't matter that winter is not even over, he wants to meet with you. And I told him it would not be possible, that he could meet with me or not at all, but that family is from Mirkwood and they keep their stubborn nature in every last digit and he's still pestering me. But things have been well these past years with the vineyard, very well, so I don't understand his perseverance. I tell you I am more concerned about the wheat fields; this debate has been going on I-don't-even-remember-how-long and it will drive me to drink, you can bet. Elrond? Are you even listening?"
"Hmm? Oh, quite, Erestor. ...You were saying?"
Erestor raised a disgruntled brow and leaned forward in his seat. "Perhaps you ought to take a rest, my Lord. Imladris will last, should you take a few hours' nap, you know."
"It's not that. I've..."
"You've been staring at me like I've grown a second head, but haven't heard a word I've said," Erestor told him. "Honestly, I haven't seen you like this since... Well," Erestor nervously broke off. "I think you ought to rest."
Grey eyes disconcertingly penetrated his. "Yes, perhaps I'd better."
Lindir felt eyes on him as he went about his business, again lending a hand in the kitchens on this cold winter day, perhaps the last truly cold day before spring. "Haldir, you're following me." He viciously grabbed up a knife to chop the vegetables laid out on the counter.
"So?"
"Why?" Lindir demanded.
"Because I want you to do something about this. I can't make you. And I won't betray your trust, but I still think you are in the wrong if you remain determined to avoid this."
"Haldir, leave me alone."
"...As you wish."
The Hall of Fire was much more subdued this cold evening, as Elves lay back in their chairs or even reclined on the floor as the multitude of fires burned high and bright, glinting off the dark woods and gold enamels.
Lindir sang little, instead encouraging others to display their talent, especially those many pupils he had taken on in his years. Lindir himself sat in the shadows beside Erestor, neither of them particularly cheerful, though that was normal for the latter.
Glorfindel and Elrond sat side-by-side, content to listen to the slow songs dominating the evening's entertainment.
Haldir had joined a table of sentries, all of them rather restrained and lethargic, like everyone else in the Hall that night.
A point came when the music ceased, and the Hall was filled only with the crackling of the fires. But then Haldir's voice rang out. "Lindir? Give us a song."
Many heads nodded and many murmurs pervaded the room, and so Lindir stood, long green robes gathered about him as he made his slow way to the bench closest to the largest fire, where he allowed an apprentice to lean the tall harp into his reach.
He sat there a moment in silence, oddly embracing the awkward instrument as he gathered himself with one deep, cleansing breath. Then, limber fingers danced along the strings and his head fell forward, pale hair screening a mournful expression and deep green eyes as bittersweet melody poured forth.
His voice seemed the sweetest sound in all of Arda in that moment, though full of a somber sadness capable only of the Elves.
"I know there isn't much to see here There may be even less to do Some people say there is no future here for me And maybe that is true Some houses by the lonely river A narrow path leads to the house A mead hall and some bored old seagulls I'm calling this my piece of earth
"For reasons that I can't remember I've never felt that restless urge To go just where the road might take me I'm happy on this piece of earth I've never been afraid of silence What scares me more are empty words But this is something you can count on I'm staying on this piece of earth
"You tell me that I shouldn't stay here You say there's so much more to see The world is full of golden chances And somewhere there's a prince for me But can't you see that all I wish for Is you for better and for worse And to hear you say how much you love me Forever on this piece of earth."
Lindir pushed the harp into its upright position and stood to leave the hall, robes swishing quietly behind him to a polite patter of applause.
Haldir smiled grimly as Glorfindel suddenly rose to follow.
One by one, the Elves left the Hall to seek their rest. Haldir was almost the last to leave and helped some musicians and soldiers bank the fires for the night, dowsing some that would not need be lit again until the following winter.
When he turned to leave, Erestor and Elrond were the only Elves still present within. He closed the doors behind him.
Elrond watched the slender form in black robes wander the Hall with a silver snuffer in a pale white hand. Erestor moved with natural grace from candle to candle, deftly putting out each light, the room growing that much darker as he did so.
Elrond himself rose to move to the windows, using a carefully constructed set of ropes and pulleys to close the outer shutters against the light of the moon without opening the windows themselves. He then pulled closed the dark blue curtains, blocking out all evidence of the evening.
Only embers held safe within deep braziers or fireplaces lit the room with a smoldering red glow.
They took one last turn about the room together, easily making their way with Elven sight. Erestor matched his Lord's strides and Elrond spoke. "Winter is nearly done, I think."
"Aye," Erestor agreed. "Imladris will soon be brimming with visitors new and old and our minds will be consumed with the planting and sowing. And Haldir will soon leave us, I imagine, to resume his post in his Golden Woods."
Elrond nodded. "Yes, I will miss him. Though I cannot wait to see the blooming of the flowers and the new growth of the leaves. It seems winter has been too long and too grey. We need more color in the world."
"Yes, I will see to the changing of the décor directly. The Spring colors will enchant all of Imladris before you know it," Erestor thought aloud, gesturing to the drab curtains that would soon be replaced with the warm spring tapestries.
Elrond glanced aside and said nothing. Thoughts turned in his head. Distracted by much and hindered by the dark, he stumbling over the long hem of his crimson robes, reaching out on instinct to grab hold of the one next to him.
Erestor allowed Elrond to cling to him just a moment as the half-Elf regained his balance. "Careful, my Lord," he whispered, taking Elrond's hand in one of his own and placing the other on the small of Elrond's back. "You must be tired; let me escort you to your rooms."
Elrond was not tired. But he did not say as much.
Lindir was walking in the armory. There was little light and no fire, but the torches in their brackets glinted sharply off all the carefully cared for weapons and armor. He passed through and into the stables where he crept past sleeping horses and dozing stable masters to climb up to the straw-filled loft, carefully holding a silver lantern out before him as he lifted the hem of his green robes out of the way. He hung the lantern from a hook on a beam and settled into a little fort-like circle created by bales of hay. He lay back in the tattered old blankets and took a book off the makeshift shelf he'd set up there. He opened the cover and stared at the pages, pretending to read.
Soft footfalls caught his attention and he looked up to see Glorfindel in his red and gold captain's uniform peeking around the wall of hay bales. The golden haired Lord slunk within the circle of straw to look down with wide blue eyes at Lindir, whose deep green eyes were equally large and frightened. For a moment, neither spoke.
Then, Glorfindel nervously cleared his throat and looked away. "Was that song..." Anxious, he coughed and started again. "Was that just a song? Or were you singing to me?"
Lindir couldn't stop the words, even as he met Glorfindel's panicked gaze. "Whenever I sing, it is always to you." He hung his pale head, eyes growing wider as he disbelieved he had said such a thing.
A swirl of red cloth slithered to the straw-strewn floor. Lindir looked at Glorfindel's crimson cape, coiled like a ready serpent of blood in the hay. Now panicking himself, he looked suddenly up.
Glorfindel raised a blonde eyebrow and said, "It's hot up here."
Lindir could only nod agreement even as their breath misted the frigid air, as he found himself suddenly speechless.
Then Glorfindel took two swift steps forward and fell to his knees. He and Lindir were nose to nose, eye to eye as Glorfindel gathered his strength. "Lindir, something's happened."
"Oh?" the bard asked, breathless.
"Yeah," Glorfindel said with a bit of a shrug, removing the book from Lindir's death grip and taking those talented hands in his. "Um... You see, there was this Lord. He was a noble Elf Lord, with a lot of power and ambition. He was really a pretty decent guy actually, and led a good life. He really liked to sing and to dance, because he loved music so much. But times were hard, and when a war came, he was determined to fight for his people. There was a terrible battle. People were killed, soldiers and innocents; it didn't matter. The Elves were... sad, when their golden Lord fell, killed by this awful, awful demon. The Lord fell into an abyss of pain and..." he confessed, "loneliness, especially since wherever it was that he went, there was never any music. He was stuck somewhere between life and death, and when the Maiar found him, they admitted that they had forgotten about him. And they called Mandos. Mandos came and talked to the Lord and because he had suffered so long, Mandos gave him a choice. He could go to the Halls of Waiting if he wanted. Or he could go to Valinor where he might eventually meet up with his friends and family. Or he could go back to Arda, where there were still battles. And music. And the Lord chose his old life, you see, because he thought there was still more he could do there."
Lindir gripped the hands that held his and pretended not to notice the tears on Glorfindel's flushed cheeks.
"And he was welcomed back with lots of fussing and hugs and drinks all around and they wanted him to be a lord again. But this Elf thought that he really didn't want all that responsibility. And so he went away to Lindon, where there was a lot of happiness for a while. That was where he met up with this Elf called Elrond. And Elrond was very special. He was really a half-Elf with a mortal twin brother. Elrond had a few secrets and a few hard times himself. This Elf got along real well with Elrond, and when the half-Elf said he planned to get married and move to Imladris and found a haven where people of all races would be welcome, this old Lord thought that sounded like a pretty good idea and asked if he could go along. Since he was so experienced with war and stuff, Elrond was really excited and asked him to be one of his advisors and the captain of his guard. The Elf agreed at once. And you might not believe it, but there were more battles and wars and Elrond DID get married and even had kids. And they DID find this perfect little valley where they built a huge house with a library and a tavern and everything. Elrond brought a host of people with him, including his best friend Erestor, who was named Chief Counselor. Over the years, there were so many people who wanted to live there, they had to build even more buildings. Oh, and there were gardens and archives and kitchens and just so many wonderful things there. But then there came the most wonderful thing of all."
Glorfindel stopped a moment and stared, entranced into deep green eyes. Lindir softly prompted him, "What was it?"
"It was a birth. There was a young maid who was very sick with grief and who had come all by herself all the way from Mirkwood so that her child could be born and raised in Imladris. And she gave birth to the baby and she died and was buried and that was all very sad. But the baby boy was healthy, and even though he really didn't want to, Erestor took the child in and raised it, almost like his own. The child learned a lot of things in Imladris, and he was very lucky, because Erestor was - in secret - a very generous Elf and told him that he could be anything he wanted. Well, what this boy loved most in the world was music, and he wanted to become a minstrel. And, as if you couldn't guess, he did. He grew up and as he grew, he learned all manner of arts and music and he could play any instrument and sing any song and it was said that he had the most beautiful voice ever gifted to any Elf. Well, the old Lord who had become Elrond's captain had watched this lad grow up and had listened to him practice everyday and had heard his beautiful voice and they became fast friends because they both loved music very much, even if they didn't have a lot else in common."
Glorfindel sighed a shuddering breath and gasped and continued his story in a choked, trembling voice. "And because it was only natural, and the Minstrel was so beautiful and shared his love of music, and shared his life in the good times and the bad ones, and made his day brighter, the old Lord fell in love with the Minstrel. He was very sad, you see, because he didn't think the Minstrel would ever look at such a stuffy old warrior with anything like love. But maybe, maybe the Lord was wrong. The end?"
Lindir smiled, even as a few stray tears wandered down his own pale cheeks. "You're a terrible story teller."
"But do you know how it ends?" Glorfindel begged.
Nervous but energetic, Lindir nodded his head. "Yes."
"Please tell me!"
Lindir cleared his throat. "Well, that wasn't the end of the story. In truth, the Minstrel himself had fallen deeply in love with the old Lord, who really wasn't so very old. The Minstrel loved him a very long time before this crazy Elf from Lorien showed up and told him to do something about it. So, the Minstrel sang a song, and even though the room was filled with people, he sang just for his own golden Lord. What came next was even better. The Minstrel was a little shook up after that and ran away to the stables. Well, the Lord followed him and they finally got down to declaring their love for each other." Lindir blushed now as he spoke. "And they were so overcome with joy and passion that they made love in the stable loft. They were so worn out, they even slept there. In the morning, they woke up together, and they remained together everyday thereafter until the end of time."
"I like that story," Glorfindel whispered, leaning closer.
"Me too," Lindir eagerly agreed, licking nervous lips.
And the Lord kissed his Minstrel, and the tale turned out just like the Minstrel said it would.
Elrond, full of fear and anxiety, half-closed his eyes and allowed his Chief Counselor to steer him down the hall, as had happened a thousand times before. He guiltily feigned a helpless exhaustion and noticed for the first time the protective embrace Erestor almost had on him and the gentle way his strong hands handled him and the easy confidence with which he cared for him.
The soft slippers they wore muffled their steps and the dark pair moved near soundlessly through the empty halls of Imladris, the rest of its residents long having sought bed or bath. The way was slow, but it was not very long before Elrond was leaning against the wall outside his room, watching from behind hooded eyes as Erestor unlocked the white doors and then took Elrond's hands in his own surprisingly warm ones to lead him past the embers in the hearth and the table by the window and through the bedroom door.
Elrond unaccountably resisted as Erestor led him toward the bed. Mistaking his reluctance for mere fatigue, Erestor soundlessly scooped up his Lord in strong arms and carried him across the green and gold carpet to the bed. Elrond went breathless at the casual strength of his friend and it seemed he flew for those few moments until he found himself sitting comfortably propped against the pillows piled before the white headboard.
Before he could wave them away, pale hands were at his throat, nimbly releasing him from the deep red robes.
Somewhere between shock and apprehension, Elrond let Erestor do what he would.
When his Lord was naked, Erestor retrieved a heavy nightgown for the cold night and slipped it over the dark head. He easily drew limp arms through the sleeves and laid Elrond back on the bed, pulling up the covers. He gently took up the ebony hair, never pulling as he untangled the complicated braids and smoothed out the black mane. He laid his warm hands on the hunched shoulders and feeling the deep tension within them, began to message the ache and stress away with firm hands.
Elrond barely prevented himself from quaking in his hold, and then listened carefully as Erestor began to sing. Never could he recall hearing the mellifluous voice raised in song, but it was both sweet and mellow, and though he could have sworn he'd never heard the odd little song before, it wrapped round him with the familiarity of an old blanket and soothed him better than any draught of wine or warm embrace.
Feeling the shoulders relax and the breathing even, Erestor withdrew, his voice dying away. He pulled the covers up tenderly over all but Elrond's head and moved to shut the shutters, closing out the moon and to build up the bedroom fire, adding a few sticks to the flames.
As he passed by the bed, he was caught in the blinking of weary, grey eyes. For the first time in the millennia Erestor had done this, Elrond reached out a hand and his deep tenor washed through the room. "Stay."
Erestor moved inexorably closer as if in a dream until he stood beside the bed, smoothing a warm hand across the half-Elf's brow. "Sleep, Lord. I will stay until you do."
"Will you sing?"
Erestor curtly nodded. "If you like."
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Chapter notes: (The next day if you must know.)
