"Enter," Haldir responded to the sudden knock at his door.
Glorfindel slipped into the room. "Good eve, Haldir."
"Glorfindel. Oh dear, there's something on your mind, my friend. Come sit," Haldir invited with a gesture beside him where he sat on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked up beneath him.
Sighing heavily, Glorfindel crossed the room to sit on the bed, perching daintily on the high structure. "I need to ask you something."
"All right," Haldir said, curious.
Glorfindel drew what strength he could to look up into unguarded hazel eyes. "Do you still love me?"
"Ah," Haldir answered quickly, looking away. "Hmm," he stalled, swinging his free leg back and forth nervously. "Well, yes. I don't think I could ever fall out of love with you Glorfindel, if it is possible for anyone to do such a thing. But you have known a long time now that I am happy with our friendship. And my feelings have grown more fond than passionate over the years."
"Then you do not... pine for me?"
Haldir laughed openly at his friend's phrasing. "Only on the rarest occasions, my friend. Only very rarely, and not for a long time now."
"That is good," Glorfindel quickly answered. "Isn't it?"
"I suppose so," Haldir shrugged, looking to the ceiling.
"Oh Haldir, you have that look on your face again."
"What look?"
"The 'I'm not telling you something important' look."
"Oh that one," Haldir answered worriedly.
"Yes that one. What is it Haldir?"
The Guardian sadly bowed his head and closed his eyes biting at his upper lip as if to still his tongue. "It is none of your concern."
"It is, because as a friend, you concern me."
Taking a few deep breaths, Haldir stood. He paced the room a bit, wringing his hands nervously. "I knew I shouldn't have come here. I just should have stayed home!" He began laughing, a hysterical edge to the shaking voice. "You see, I shouldn't have let it happen." He stopped and turned to look at Glorfindel. "I was content in our friendship and had long ago cast aside any hope for you as anything more than a very good friend. I've been in Lorien how long now? Right, and it is my home and you were rarely in my thoughts, and then my thoughts turned away completely and now, after all these years, what do you know? ...I've gone and fallen in love again!" Haldir's eyes were haunted. He quietly repeated, "I tried not to let it happen."
"And why not?!"
Hazel eyes met his and Glorfindel's hopes deflated. Haldir's voice was stone cold. "Because he is wed."
"Oh Haldir..."
"I know," his friend replied with eternal weariness. "I know." He shrugged and sat upon the bed again, seeming to deflate in a way as he did so. "Love happens."
"Erestor, you never married," Elrond wisely observed. The half-Elf looked across his desk to see the most puzzled expression he could ever recall witnessing on his Chief Counselor's face.
Erestor blinked. "Are you feeling all right, Lord?"
"Quite. I was just wondering you know."
"Should I have?" Erestor asked, perplexed. He did not wait for Elrond to answer. "I have little time for it. There is always so much to do."
"How can you not have time for love?"
"You said marriage, not love."
Elrond was caught speechless a moment. "I suppose I assumed they went hand in hand."
"I thought you never assumed."
"Huh. Well. Could you hand me that inventory?"
It was just about teatime in Imladris, the time of day that Glorfindel sought out his other best friend. Every day, like clockwork.
He knocked, received no response, and entered Erestor's study, tray in hand. "Crumpets today!" the blonde announced happily. "Lindir made them."
"And how is your... betrothed?" Erestor asked. He had cooled somewhat from the day previously.
"Very well! We are both very well," Glorfindel told him, setting down the silver tray on Erestor's desk.
Erestor grumbled, stood, picked the tray up off his Very Important Papers, and moved to the small fireplace where he set the tray on the floor and sat before the smoldering flames on the fur rug. Clad in simple shirt and trousers, Glorfindel easily joined him on the floor, not having to fight with any robes as Erestor constantly did.
"Sugar?" asked Glorfindel.
"One please," said Erestor.
Glorfindel stirred in three spoonfuls of sugar. "Milk?"
"No thank you."
Glorfindel handed him the teacup and they both drank in silence.
This was an ancient ritual.
"I wanted to thank you," Glorfindel told him, "for your love advice."
"Mmm," Erestor responded, attempting to ignore him.
"Can I give you some?"
"Some what?" Erestor asked without thinking.
"Love advice."
"Certainly not."
"Erestor," Glorfindel confided, "I am absolutely torn watching you day after day—"
"Glorfindel," Erestor interrupted with a growl. "One. More. Word. ...And your betrothed shall not have anything to look forward to on the wedding night."
"Hm," Glorfindel answered.
"Well you have to find out who it is!" Lindir was adamant.
"And then what?" Glorfindel asked.
"Then we can do SOMETHING, instead of suffer simply because we know he is suffering. There's always a chance."
"Then you ask the damn Galadhrim," Glorfindel said. "For he won't tell me."
"Fine," Lindir said quietly to himself. "I think I shall..."
"Next?"
"Ah," Elrond scrutinized the list before him. "'An Elvish Account of Dwarven Customs and Policy' by Belindel the Great."
"You know he gave himself that title," Erestor muttered as he strode to the spindly ladder, hiking up drab robes to climb nearly to the top of the shelves to lift down a large, heavy book and carefully descend with it cradled in one arm. He placed it on the growing stack in front of Elrond, who looked up at him.
"Erestor, I know there are better things you could be doing with your time. Melpomaen could assist me here as well as you."
"Ah, but none know the libraries as well as I, even your Chief Librarian."
Elrond acceded with a nod. "Tis true." He shook his head and muttered, "Only you would have the placement of every book memorized."
Erestor ignored him. "Next?"
Lindir found Haldir in the stables, brushing down his mount, which looked more than happy in his stall constantly supplied with water and hay and oats. Lindir jumped over the gate and hopped up to sit on the ledge that separated one stall from another. "Good day Haldir!"
"I'm not telling you," the Guardian answered in stiff monotone.
"What?"
"Glorfindel sent you. And I will not say."
Lindir accepted this, slipping from his seat to stand on the other side of the proud horse and look up at Haldir. "Will you tell me why not?"
Haldir ceased his ministrations, looking down at nothing. "I will not say it. Because I have never said it. Because saying it will make it real. Please leave me to my own sort of peace, my friend."
"All right then." Nodding sadly, Lindir agreed. "All right."
Haldir was surprised to find, upon finally leaving his horse's stall, Rivendell's Lord wandering the stables. "Elrond?"
"Ah, good day, Haldir."
"Everyone keeps saying that, but I hardly think it is. What on earth is the matter?"
"Too many things," Elrond wearily answered, the heaviness of something dark and dreadful visibly weighing him down.
"Shall I walk with you?"
"If you like. I have received news of note from your Lady."
Haldir leaned in. "In regards to what?"
"The future."
Concerned, Haldir joined him and they walked slowly and spoke in whispers down the length of abandoned stalls.
Glorfindel finally cornered Elrond in his office. "Elrond! My but you do look in poor spirits."
Elrond smiled at his Guard Captain. "Ah, well. The pressures have been building steadily what with," he waved his hand as if to encompass all the world, "everything."
"Mm," Glorfindel mused shortly. "What is that?" he asked of the tall stacks of books around the edge of Elrond's desk, caging him in.
"Research."
"Of course," Glorfindel said, sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk. Finding his view blocked by the many books, the golden-haired Elf pushed aside several columns of them so that he could see Elrond there, pondering his plethora of papers. "My Lord, do you love Erestor?"
Elrond looked at his Guard Captain as though he did not understand him.
Glorfindel persisted. "What does Erestor look like?"
"That is an odd question."
"Humor me."
Elrond sat back, folding his hands before him a moment in thought. "He is quite tall and stately, with dark chocolate eyes and ebony hair. His features are fine and his skin quite fair. His hands are very slender."
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Nothing. How does Erestor spend his free time, if he ever has any?"
"When I force him away from work, he writes little poems and fictions of his own. He composes ballads, if I force a lute into his quite capable hands. He loves to ride, though you hardly ever see him at it."
"Huh. And what does he smell like?"
"Mallorn blossoms. Glorfindel, why are you asking me these things?"
"Because, my Lord, anyone else would describe your Chief Counselor as being short and hawkish - for he is - his eyes like mud, his hair like dirt, his features mousy, and his skin as being pallid. No one, not even I, could tell you what he does in his spare time, no one else is ever close enough to so perfectly recall his scent, and I doubt anyone has ever bothered to look at his hands."
"Oh."
"Elrond?"
"I love him," the old Lord realized.
"For how long?"
Elrond looked shocked. "I don't know."
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