Fields of Gold 2015

Chapter XVIII: Fields of Gold

First: An enormous thank you to EverleighBain who ploughed through this story despite power outages and a rambunctious toddler to text me enough bravery to post this last part. Without Ev there would have never been a completed story.

Second: A thank you to all of you who waited all those years. I hope it lives up to your hopes. This is dedicated to all of you. Thank you for all the amazing and kind words you gifted to me.

Morning did bring blue sky, and a chilly dawn, with a brisk breeze pushing the clouds east, but it also revealed the damage done to the havens and the town. Walking through the streets toward the harbor, Thalion shook his head. "Someone lost their sails." The canvas was ripped, loose rope still dangling from where it had gotten caught in the baker's sign.

"And a roof or two."

"Oh, no."

He barely heard the quiet exclamation before Bronwë was off like a shot, running for the quays.

"Sweet stars." Faelon had stopped and was staring at the harbor where something bobbed in the water. "Is that...?"

"Come on!"

Glorfindel ran with them past the quays to the beach where a swanship had been run up the beach, the mast half its normal size. Broken and jagged edges of what had been the mast were all that was left. The head of the swan at the prow looked as if something had ripped it off and left it rolling in the waves farther up the beach.

"Círdan!" Bronwë was in the water, trying to push past Galdor and his men to see what was left of the great ship. "No! Let me see. I can help!" She wasn't listening to Galdor as he held her back, but struggled to pull free. "Círdan!"

"Bronwë!" Walking up the beach, Gildor and his folk right behind, Círdan stood at the edge of the water. "Come out of there now, lass. You're soaking wet and it's-" The Shipwright staggered back a step, laughing as Bronwë bolted out of the water to throw her arms around him. "I'm fine, lass, I'm fine. Easy now." He hugged her tightly. "Shhh..."

"It's a relief to see you, old barnacle." Glorfindel shook his head. "We were beginning to think the worst."

Bronwë took a step back, wiping her face as she anxiously looked for any wounds. "What happened?" Her eyes widened and she reached out to touch one part of his chin that was bare. "Your beard."

A snort. "Aye, that patch got pulled right out, but it will grow back." Círdan rubbed the bare spot and met their wondering gazes. "Stop staring, all of you!"

"What happened?"

Leave it to Faelon to ask first.

Círdan sighed and ran a hand through his silver hair. "I can't rightly say what it was but we met some leviathan of the deeps I've yet to see."

"Did it do that?" Glorfindel pointed to the mast and the lolling swan's head.

"Aye." Círdan turned as a fountain of water shot up, glittering in the cool morning light as if suspended in time or held aloft by the wind. "Thank you, Lord Ossë, for your timely assistance." Hand to his heart, Círdan bowed.

The voice was soft and yet thunderous as the waves, echoing with the song of the deeps and the creatures there. The glittering form shifted and took on the appearance of a male elf, though one made of shells and kelp and coral from the deeper oceans. The waters rippled, foaming and shifting from the deepest blues and to the most brilliant of turquoise with green shifting through the sunlit spots. "Such creatures are not meant to be in the waters of your people."

All of the elves bowed to the Maia, even Gildor inclined his head, respectful of the power and destruction this one could call forth. Many Noldorin ships had sank at his command of wind and waves. A wind gusted, pushing the waves against those standing on the beach, and the water surged upward in a violent plume before crashing back to the ocean with a mighty roar that echoed across the bay.

Ossë was gone.

Bronwë let out a long breath and turned to look at Glorfindel. Her eyes were wide but there was a gleam of admiration there that only sea elves felt for one so chaotically unpredictable as Ossë, who never forgot what was done to their kin in Alqualondë. "Now there's something you don't see every day, even in Aman, I would guess."

He shook his head and smiled. "Not even in Aman."

It was a boisterous group that followed Círdan up the bluff to his home, too many elves speaking at once and making his head ache. "Wait, wait." He held up his hands, and bellowed, "STOP!" This was his commanding voice that could be heard over driving rain and wind, and in the relatively small office, it resounded like a sonorous bell, silencing everyone immediately. They all looked at him, some blinking in surprise, others smirking.

"One at a time, or I'll send you all out to the shipyards to work off this behavior!" Círdan drew in a deep breath, gazing around before nodding in satisfaction. "All right. You. Report."

Thalion's eyes widened at being picked first, but he stepped forward. "The sickened trees have been treated, and those too sick to be saved were harvested and burned, per our instructions from Lothlórien, milord."

"Good. Is the treatment working?" Círdan leaned his hip against the large desk and crossed his arms.

"It is." Thalion smiled. "We hope to see new growth soon."

"Very good." With a smirk, only half-hidden by his beard, Círdan nodded to Faelon. "Out with it lad, before you spill guts here in my office."

He had been tapping impatiently, shifting from foot to foot, but now Faelon blurted, "We spoke to the Avarin elders and then we looked in the mirror and Galadriel said you would know what the images meant because none of it makes sense to me, and Bronwë also looked but I don't know what she saw since she hasn't told me really, and dead animals have been washing up and fights have been breaking out in droves, and -"

"Faelon!" Círdan's lips quirked up in a wry smile. "Breathe, lad, or you'll pass out right here." He sobered and straightened to walk around and sit at his chair behind the desk. "The rest of you, those who didn't go to Lothlórien. Is there aught else to report that must be dealt with this moment, and Galdor, I realize the ship is painful for you. Believe me, it pains me as well, but secure her as best you can so she can't go drifting out to the bay and we'll see to our wounded lady soon enough."

"I simply want to know what's going on." Gildor Inglorion sat gracefully in the bay window and grinned. "I'll stay out of the way."

A snort and Círdan waved his hand. "All right. Go on, the rest of you, I'll find you later and deal with whatever it is. See Galdor until then!"

Seeing how harassed Galdor already looked, Bronwë took up her normal chair near the fireplace. "You're unkind to him at times."

"He practically runs the place, so he can deal with that lot." Not true, but Círdan was well-pleased and leaned back in his chair to regard the five elves remaining in his office. "Galadriel had you look in her mirror, and you did?"

Faelon nodded but said nothing. His gaze shot to Bronwë who nodded slowly.

"Bron?"

Leaning in against the high back of her chair, Glorfindel set a hand on her shoulder. Reaching up, she set her hand on his and sighed. "I saw a place, somewhere in the bay, I think. Lady Galadriel said you would likely recognize it, but..." She hurried to finish before Círdan could interrupt. "There are rocks, but I'm not sure where they are. I didn't recognize them."

"Hm." Running fingers through his tangled beard, Círdan tried to figure out the puzzle given to them. "What is the significance of these rocks?"

"Eyes." Faelon grimaced and began to pace. "I saw two glowing eyes. Something pink flashed past and then a ray of sunshine. There was...something menacing there, something dangerous but..." He huffed a long sigh. "It had little power other than to..." Faelon gestured as if stirring the air. "Agitate the ...what exists down there. It radiated ill will and I think that is what sickens the creatures that go near it."

"And the trees?"

A shrug, and Faelon stopped at a window to look down at the bay. The water stretched to the mouth of the bay and then rippled endlessly to the horizon as if you could sail and suddenly just drop off into nothingness. "Maybe?"

"I saw eyes as well." Bronwë shrugged. "Two glowing eyes that dimmed at times and then flared to life."

It was a fine puzzle. Círdan asked, "When you saw the eyes in the vision, where were you?"

The question took her aback and Bronwë gazed at him for one heartbeat, two, three. "I...I'm in the water. I must be." Her gaze unfocussed as she recalled the vision in the mirror. "Everything is blurred and moves, undulating. I think it's waves? And then, they're just...there. The eyes."

"I know it's not a creature." Círdan shook his head. "I would know if it was."

"I saw -"

"Faelon." Círdan held up a hand, cutting the other elf off. "I heard you, but, lad, I just came from that very bay where you two claim to have seen eyes. There is no creature like that lurking in the narrows."

"There are other ways of seeing than through eyes." It had struck him as he rode through the Tower Hills. Eyes. Glowing in the deeps. Glorfindel turned to the group and his smile was grim. "It is Arvedui's doing, for it was he who lost them in the first place, when his ship sank."

Gildor sat up, eyes narrowing. "I thought the Dúnedain regained the ring."

"Oh, the ring, aye." Glorfindel turned to Círdan, waiting for him to realize just what he meant.

Silver eyes widened in sudden recognition. "The Seeing Stones!"

"But they were lost far north, in the Forchel Bay." Bronwë remembered Círdan readying the ships to sail to the doomed king's rescue. It had been too late. The ice had taken Arvedui's ship and everything and everyone with it. Only the Ring of Barahir had been spared. Arvedui had given it to the Ice men in return for their assistance. It had taken a great deal of persuasion, decades later, for the Dúnedain to regain the priceless heirloom. It now rested in Imladris, safe in Elrond's care.

"Ah, currents can be tricky that way." Tugging on his beard, Círdan's gaze was distant, perhaps remembering or perhaps looking forward. "I begin to see why I couldn't sense anything evil. The stones aren't evil."

"But Sauron could be using it to influence the creatures that live in the deeps." It was purest speculation, but Glorfindel did not doubt. The Maia was canny and always quick to use whatever influence came within his grasp.

"Ulmo rules the deeps." It was a statement, one not up for debate. Círdan sighed. "But Uinen and Ossë ...I begin to see why they would not answer. This is not their predicament."

Something to remember. Glorfindel shook his head. "Do we even have a clue where the stones are located?" He looked at Faelon and Bronwë who were staring at each other.

Faelon shook his head. A grimace and Bronwë turned to Círdan. "If you got close would you be able to sense them?"

"No, lass." A shake of his head and Círdan squeezed her arm. "There's naught to sense. The stones are..." He turned to Glorfindel and nodded. "You might."

"Me?"

The smile was that of someone who was on to something. "You've sensed other items that were imbued with power."

Faelon looked at Bronwë who shrugged.

"That..." Was true. He had sensed the Rings as soon as he set foot upon Middle-earth. Well, as soon as he had regained his mind and known what it was that was throbbing in the air like a drumbeat, nearly alive. "Why could I not sense them then? I stood on this very shore just this morning."

"Take him out on a boat." Thalion looked up from studying the map.

"Ship," Círdan growled with a frown.

Bronwë bit her lip and walked over to look at the map. It showed the shoals and rocks hidden at the mouth of the bay, and the passage where the current was strongest. "There." She pointed to a spot that was notorious for shipwrecks. The waters there were turbulent, dangerously so when the tide was surging in or out of the bay. "I remember seeing rocks near the eyes."

Círdan studied where she was pointing and nodded. "That's a tricky piece of work, getting in and out of there safely. It can only be done for a short time, when tide is at its highest and a ship can get over the rocks." He looked at Bronwë. "You're sure?"

"There was a rock, shaped like..." Looking around Círdan's study, she found a quill and piece of paper. "Roughly like this."

"Is that a recognized landmark?" Thalion waited to be corrected on his terminology but Círdan only stared, lips pursed.

"It is, but it is under water, and it's only a little apart from the wall of the bay itself. It's far enough no one could reach it going out on the rocks."

"I don't suppose you could ..." Faelon waved a hand in the air. "Convince a whale or seal to swim down and nudge them out?"

Círdan pinned the blond with a look. "Do I look like Ossë or Ulmo, lad? No, this is ours to deal with. Elves created the problem, and elves will have to solve it, without the help of Maiar or creatures."

Thalion looked to Glorfindel. "Looks like you're going out on a boa..ship."

"Not today." Círdan pulled another set of charts out. "Not for a few days. We need a full moon when tides are highest if we have a chance of doing this." He tapped the chart. "Three days and we'll have a full moon."

"So here you are, old chum." Gildor Inglorion slouched in the chair and raised a pint. "Once again poised to leap into battle-"

"Stop spouting rubbish, Gildor." Glorfindel clinked his mug against Gildor's and took a long drink before setting it down. "Though I find it astounding that once again something of Fëanor's creation is causing trouble."

"Not his fault this time, mate."

A shrug and Glorfindel sighed. "This time."

Chuckling, Gildor shook his head. "You're never going to let that go, are you? Despite the fact it was...too many years to count!"

It had, in fact, been Ages, but elven memory did not lose its sharpness, and Glorfindel could remember perfectly. Taking another long drink, he sat back. "Why don't you come with us, keep me out of trouble?"

"Ah, Glorfindel." Gildor winked. "When was I ever able to do that? Besides." Smiling at a group of humans trying to appear as if they weren't watching even as they were watching, Gildor turned his gaze to his friend. "You have someone to think about now, don't you? Someone besides Elrond and his children."

The inn was growing more crowded, and a group of musicians were tuning up their instruments, getting ready to entertain the evening crowd. It was a far cry from the ethereal beauty and near solitude Lothlórien could provide, but Glorfindel preferred the lively atmosphere. He liked to listen to the men laughing as they told their stories and see the women and children dancing. "I do." Turning a lazy smile on his friend, he arched an eyebrow. "Not going to lament for another bachelorhood lost?"

Gildor smiled, but there was a sadness that dimmed the blue eyes. "No. You've been alone long enough, mate."

Leaning forward, Glorfindel nudged his mug against Gildor's. "Don't get glum on me, Gildor. Bronwë will likely get tired of me soon enough and toss me out to go wandering with you and your merry group again." He winked. "Or are you finally going to sail?"

"Not yet." A shake of his head, and the Exile sighed. "Ah, my friend, it's all changing, isn't it? This world, she's been winding down for some time now, the colors dimming, Arian not quite as brilliant."

A morose Gildor was normally a drunken Gildor, but Glorfindel shook his head. "Changing, yes, but you know very well we weren't meant to wander creation for all time." He held the gaze of his friend for a long moment. "You'll have to return to Aman someday."

"Ha!" Gildor sat up and thumped his mug down. "Bar keeper! Another round to congratulate my old chum here on finally braving himself to speak to the girl he loves!"

Glorfindel rolled his eyes. "It wasn't that long-"

Laughing, Gildor held up his mug. "To happy endings, my friend! To happy endings!"

"Are you all right?"

Glorfindel winced and closed his eyes, knowing it was useless. There was no fooling a healer. "My head is just a bit..." He sighed as a cool towel covered his eyes and reached to take the hand smoothing his hair back. "Gildor can still drink me under a table." He rested the captured hand, tangled with his, on his chest.

"What a surprise." Bronwë sat on the divan and shook her head. "You go out on the sea tomorrow with Círdan and the winds are kicking up. I hope you feel better by then."

"Mm." He squeezed her hand. "Be fine in a little while. Just need to sleep." But sleep was a capricious creature, evading him with every heartbeat that echoed the throbbing ache in his head. "You're staying on shore." The silence was telling and he squeezed her hand. "Bronwë." The sea was something she loved, but being out on a ship or boat or any other type of craft that bobbed and rocked with the waves was enough to make the healer queasy.

"Go to sleep."

He opened his mouth to protest, but that sneaky thief sleep snuck up and suddenly pounced him, dragging him down to reverie.

It was a clear morning, the sky cloudless and the sea so calm as almost to appear as glass.

"You're not going out there."

Braiding her hair back, Bronwë slanted a look sideways and stuck out her tongue. "Fortunately for me, I'm not one of your men to command."

"You'll be puking in a matter of minutes."

"Glorfindel." Braid done, Bronwë turned to face him. "I'll not puke on your shoes, all right?"

He grimaced. "That's what you said-"

"Glorious morning, isn't it?" Gildor sauntered down the quay, smiling brightly. "Which of these lovely ships are we taking out?"

"Who invited you?"

Arching an eyebrow, Gildor quirked a wry smile. "Bit grumpy, are we?"

"I-"

"Come on, don't loiter." Círdan appeared on the deck of one of the smaller swanships and gestured for them to board. "The wind is calm but she won't stay that way."

"Ah. Lovely." Gildor held out a hand and helped Bronwë up the gangway, smiled and stepped right in front of Glorfindel. "Age and beauty first, old friend."

Glorfindel snorted but helped Círdan pull the gangway up. Faelon and Thalion were already there, looking over the sea charts at the prow of the ship.

There was a bustle of motion as Círdan's crew weighed the anchor, pushed them off and dropped the oars into the water. Gildor leaned against the railing with Bronwë. "I remember when swans pulled the ships in Alqualondë." He smiled at her, but the smile faded. "'Twas a true tragedy, burning those ships. They were the beloved jewels of the Teleri, every bit as precious as Fëanor's Silmarils."

She had known Gildor was ancient, but sighed for the images his words called forth. "Someday, I'd love to hear about them."

"Someday." A wink and Gildor straightened. He rubbed his hands together and gave a smile for Círdan. "Are we supposed to row as well?"

A snort and Círdan waved him off. "Fat lot of good that would do, you steering us into rocks."

"Círdan!" Gildor clutched his chest. "You wound me."

Shaking his head, the Shipwright steered them towards the mouth of the bay. Arien was still climbing into the sky when they reached the spot and dropped the anchor. "This is as close as we dare get. Even with a light ship I don't dare scraping her on those shoals." He pointed to a point just past the mouth of the bay where the water roiled even with the rising tide. Turning to Glorfindel, Círdan arched a silver eyebrow. "Well?"

Glorfindel crouched near the gangway, where he could see the water. It was too turbulent to actually see below the surface, but there was something... It was faint, a low song of power slumbering, just waiting to be wakened. A nod and he sat to pull off his boots.

"What are you doing?"

"Someone has to go down there."

"No." Bronwë crouched next to him, face a bit green, but a stubborn line to her mouth. "Let one of the crew. They're far more used to diving in these waters than you."

Setting his boots aside, Glorfindel took her hands. "Bronwë. If Sauron is, indeed, using those palantíri as a conduit the last thing I want is for anyone to touch them."

"But you're going to do just that."

"Here, lad." Círdan handed him a pair of thick gloves, the kind used when handling falcons. "You'd best braid back your hair as well."

Taking the gloves, Glorfindel paused, struck by the oddest sense that he'd done this before. He held Bronwë's gaze for a long moment, watching her frown turn to a puzzled look as he stared. The wind was blowing, cool and thin in the high mountains, carrying the scent of flowers from the garlands hung along the walls. It was so silent, so quiet, even with all the folk of the city gathered along the walls, and -

"Glorfindel."

Hands on his face grounded him back in the present and he blinked. The hands were too small, the eyes too grey to be... "Bronwë."

She leaned in, still looking at his eyes. "You've not had one of those memory flashes in a long, long while."

"I'm all right." He could see she wasn't convinced, but Glorfindel took her hand and kissed it. "Bron, I'm fine."

Still frowning, she sighed and stood. "Let me braid your hair at least before you go."

Stripped down to breeches and his undershirt, hair tightly braided back and gloves on his hands, Glorfindel stood on the edge of the ship, took a deep series of breaths and dove.

The water was cold, colder even than the day he had swam with the jellyfish, and he realized the storm had likely brought in cooler water. The rocks loomed as dark, hulking figures as he kicked deeper, and he paused next to the largest rock, grasping it to steady himself as the water tugged and pulled at him. Pulling himself along the rock, Glorfindel spotted something that reflected the light of the surface and kicked deeper to get closer.

There. He could see one of the palantír, glowing and slightly reflecting the colors around it. Quiescent, it rolled gently against the buffeting of the current rising in the bay. Good. One was good enough for now.

Then he spotted the other one. It was lit from within, glowing yellow and reddish as if a great eye was watching him, and Glorfindel's eyes widened. This was what Faelon and Bronwë had seen in their visions. A low growl in his throat and he surged forward to grab hold of the palantír. A shock of energy ran through his arms, down his spine and he almost yelled in surprise, but Glrofindel wrestled the stone into his grip and bared his teeth.

I know you can hear me, he thought at the glowing eye. I know what you've been doing and where you are. Your time is coming.

Was that mocking laughter, echoing through the water? The stone pulled against him and he tightened his grip, unwilling to let it go now. The eye flared brighter, lighting the dark water and Glorfindel grunted as his back impacted the rock, but he didn't let go. He wasn't going to let go, not now, and not ever.

But the lack of air was beginning to remind him that he needed to surface and Glorfindel tried to kick up off the rock. The palantír suddenly seemed to weigh far too much, even buoyed by the water. Gritting his teeth, he pulled it to his chest and again kicked hard against the rock.

Something nudged his shoulder and Glorfindel almost dropped the palantír when he turned to find the laughing face of a dolphin. It was bobbing in the water before him, eyes bright...

Too bright. And weren't dolphins normally grey and not covered in a silver sheen?

If you don't wish for aid, I can leave...

The laughing voice was echoed in a clicking sound that Glorfindel realized was the dolphin who was not a dolphin. He wasn't about to refuse help. No! I would dearly love your assistance.

Swimming in a quick somersault, the dolphin laughed again. Do you wish to take them both?

Yes, please!

And quick as the thought, the dolphin dove down and bumped the other palantír with its snout, pushing it up, towards Glorfindel. He grabbed it and held it against his chest.

But still...he could not move.

Eyes wide, he pushed down the panic, panic never helped, it only burned energy and fogged thoughts, and concentrated on pushing his legs up, away from the rock.

Spinning in a graceful roll, the dolphin swam to float before him. You need to rise, Glorfindel.

Yes, he was aware of that, yet... The palantíri seemed to be weighing him down, holding him hard against the rock. How was it that had had ever forgotten how humorous even the Maiar could be, laughing as they appeared and either announced something or helped you?

He hoped it was going to help.

You need to remember. The blue eyes glowed brighter, the clicking laughter filling his ears as air became a very real problem.

Remember now, Glorfindel. Remember and go now to your reward. The dolphin nudged him upwards, towards the surface, towards the light that was so bright. His lungs were burning, and again he could not breathe. It was like before, only that had been because fire had seared his lungs from the heat of the balrog and he was falling.

Falling down, deeper and deeper...

Wait. No! Moving yes, but upwards! Soaring, soaring up through the blue, pushed towards the light. Eyes opening wide, Glorfindel held the orbs and yearned with all that was in him for the light.

One last push, the laughing clicks of the dolphin and his head burst clear of the water. He gasped and went under as a wave swamped him. No, he was so close, too close. Please, please, he prayed. Not yet, I cannot go! I remember! I saw the fields of gold, and yes! Please, I want that blessing...

"I've got him!"

Hands strong as steel grabbed Glorfindel's hair, and this time he was deliriously happy that he had left his hair long, the braid easy to grab. "Easy, lad. I've got you."

He was hauled up, coughing and gasping for air, laughing when he could, to lay on the deck. Hands reached for him and he opened his eyes to see Bronwë bent over him, touching his face. Coughing up what seemed like half the sea, he stared into her face and thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful. "Got them."

"You did." She cradled his head, stroking back heavy gold hair, looking into his shimmering eyes.

Glorfindel coughed and set the Seeing Stones against his chest, holding them in place. Blasted things. He sagged into Bronwë's hold and met her gaze again. "Fëanor's blasted stones wanted to remain hidden, but..." He touched her face and smiled. "I saw the fields of gold."

"Fields? Glorfindel, you were-"

"They promised. I had forgotten. But I saw them."

"How is he?" Círdan held up a few golden strands of hair, tangled around his hands. "Sorry, lad. Had no other way to grab you."

Bronwë smiled and looked up at Círdan. "He's fine. Grousing about Fëanor, but fine."

"How could such beautiful things cause so much trouble?"

A snort and Glorfindel pushed aside Faelon's hand before covering the palantíri again. "What concerns me is what I saw, and what you two also saw, in the stones." His gaze met Círdan's. "Was Gondor warned when the stone at Osgiliath went missing?"

"They knew it was the most powerful stone, capable of communicating with any of the others, even intercepting any conversations on the other six stones." Círdan sat back, stroking his beard, gaze distant as he thought. "You think Sauron found it."

"We cannot assume he did not, not after what I saw and sensed." Glorfindel stood and stared at the covered palantíri. "They cannot stay in Middle-earth. To allow them to do so is to invite trouble."

"What about the one in Elostirion?" Bronwë, quiet until then, looked up.

Glorfindel shook his head. "It sees only west to the master stone in Avallónë. There is nothing Sauron could do to it."

"And it's not as well-known as the palantíri Gondor controlled." Círdan nodded as Glorfindel arched an eyebrow. "Aye, I'll send them west on the next ship. It's for the best."

"Shouldn't we warn those who have the other palantíri," Thalion asked quietly. "Let them know what we suspect?"

Círdan stood. "Not until we're certain and not until these two are in Aman." He shook his head. "I'll take responsibility for the decision, lad, don't fret. After that disaster with Arvedui I'm not inclined to let Men have any of the old relics, especially those dangerous to all of us."

Not missing the significant look that passed between Glorfindel and Círdan, Bronwë sighed. Secrets, there were always secrets. Sometimes it made a simple wood-elf feel quite overwhelmed. She stood as well and shook out her skirts. "Will one of you send word to Elrond? He did ask to know how all of this fell out." A glance towards the covered stones and she shook her head. "I'm only going to let him know about the mold and what we discovered."

"I'll send word, unless you're returning to Imladris soon?" Círdan shot a look at Glorfindel who shook his head.

"Let him know." He held out his hand to Bronwë and smiled as she clasped his hand. "I have other important matters to attend to."

"Gil-galad used to walk that seagull of his along here, didn't he?" Walking hand in hand, Glorfindel and Bronwë strolled down a deserted stretch of beach, far from the shipyards, where the most common visitors were the sea birds who hunted the tidal pools and shallows.

"Lovey." Bronwë smiled. "I admit I liked him better for that bit of eccentricity."

Laughing, Glorfindel pulled her closer and stroked a finger across her cheek. "Did you now?"

"Oh!" Pulling free, she dug in her cloak pocket. "Your hand, please? No, the other one."

"What's this?" Glorfindel stared in amazement as she slid a silver ring on his finger with a smile that clearly said, "so there". "Bron, you didn't have -"

She rolled her eyes. "Right. I know the tradition even if it isn't one the Teler or Silvan share."

Which was part of why he hadn't even asked before putting a ring on her finger. "How did you get the size?"

Her grin grew. "Erestor said you rarely wore any 'ornamentation apart from festivals upon where you would dig out several rings and wear them.' He let me size one of those."

"Did he?" The old sneak. Glorfindel laughed and tugged at her hand, pulling her closer again. "He's right, though I shall certainly wear this ring." A kiss to celebrate left them breathless and he tucked her against his side before resuming their stroll. "At least until we exchange them."

"Still set on a year?"

Looking down he caught her mischievous grin and snorted. "Would you care to explain to Erestor why we forwent tradition and deprived him of the chance to show just how marvelous a strategist he is?"

"It is tempting." Bronwë pretended to consider the question, then halted. "Wait, just what will he be planning? Glorfindel, I don't want this to turn into anything like Elrond and Celebrían's wedding."

He hesitated, almost teasing her, but there was a hint of true anxiety in her eyes and he shook his head. "No, I'll see its kept smallish." Glorfindel grunted as she punched his arm. "What?"

"Smallish?" Bronwë shook her head, adamant. "Family and immediate friends only."

"I have to invite Mithrandir."

"Fine. And Mithrandir." Seeing the teasing glint in his eyes, she pinched his side. "I mean it!"

Laughing, Glorfindel caught her hands and brought them up to kiss. "I shall endeavor to please you, milady."

"You do remember I was here when you were part of Gil-galad's court?" Bronwë nodded as his smile grew. "I know that tone, and you won't sweet talk me into this."

"Bronwë."

"No. I'm not a dwarf to have his axe charmed from him." She refused to smile as he laughed, but her mouth did twitch at the effort. "Oh, you brat!"

Glorfindel caught her in a hug, pressing a kiss to her hair. "All will be well, you will see!"

"I'll hide in my room." Bronwë pinched him again as his chest shook with laughter. "I see now how it will be."

"Is that so awful?" He tipped her chin up and held her gaze, truly concerned.

Her smile was unfettered, full of joy.

And all the answer he needed.

The adventure begins, but this story is at -

The End! :D

There might be an epilogue or another story. If anyone wants one, and if you do? What do you want to see ?