'That went well, considering,' Elrohir said as he led the retreat from the study with Erestor and Lindir behind him. 'Lindir, really, I'm sorry Ada picked you out for blame; it wasn't fair of him and I can't think what's wrong…'

'Can you not?' Erestor said softly. 'Your father has just spent time with your sister at what should have been a joyous occasion, the birth of her first child. But the arrival of your niece was a reminder to Elrond that she will die, that her mother has chosen the mortal way and this is as clear a sign of her mortality as if her hair had turned grey… for all his faults, for all his inadequacies as a parent, do not doubt, do not ever doubt, he loves you and Elladan and Arwen very much. Your news, Elrohir, will not help, I am afraid; perhaps he has been hoping that you or Elladan would marry and he would have the birth of elfling grandchildren to celebrate, to offset the pain of meeting mortality in Arwen's daughter. He knows how bitter this will be, remember; he has already lost his twin…'

'I… I can't imagine…' Elrohir shook his head. 'If anything were to happen to Dan… but then, we'd meet up again one day, but to never… it's a hard thing. I suppose I hadn't really thought, about Arwen… not… when we saw her, she was so happy…'

'Of course she was happy!' Erestor said. 'Do not doubt her life will be a long and a contented one… until the moment when Aragorn loses his vigour and lies down to death, she will be joyous. But there will come a day of reckoning.'

Elrohir nodded. 'I'm going to stay for her,' he said. 'I don't think Rusdir would want to sail anyway – you know how Silvans are about that, Erestor – but even if he did want to, I think I'd want to wait. Naneth isn't here, Ada is sailing soon… she's a strange, fey thing, my sister, but I won't leave until I've seen her days over. Who knows? Maybe I can help… but even if I can't…'

'That's good of you, Elrohir,' Erestor said. 'For my part, well, I will follow Arveldir, of course, whatever his choices. But the sea does not sing to his Silvan blood, and so I do not think you will linger alone.'

'I will stay too,' Lindir said. 'For a while, at least. I would want to know what happens to… to the Fiefdom of the Southern Winds, if Kov… if Mesri's child grows to govern in her stead once she dies.'

'Lindir…' Elrohir began, but the minstrel smiled.

'Thank you for interrupting my meeting with Elrond,' he said. 'And Erestor, for coming in with me; it was not so daunting as if I'd been alone. Well, if you will pardon me, I have music to write; no doubt you would like something new for your wedding, Elrohir, and if it is to be soon, I had better make a start.'

It was not a happy group that met at the Great Hall for the evening meal. Glorfindel alone seemed in reasonable humour; Melpomaen took a place by Lindir and endeavoured to support his spirits with conversation concerning an encounter with Tulusson, the gardener.

'…for I was wishing to plant the kernel of the fruit I brought back, and he lifted his lip in something very like a sneer. "Thought you'd know better than that," he said. "It needs to cold to shock it into sprouting. You'll have to wait for the frosts before you stand any chance." And so, while I had hoped to make a little expedition of it soon, I find I have lost almost all the respect our gardener ever held for me in my eagerness!'

'But you are a healer first,' Lindir said when Mel had smiled at his own discomfiture. 'And your knowledge of plants is for their use in your craft; there is surely too much to remember in the growing of plants as well.'

'That may be true. But would you like a walk up the valley tomorrow, in any case?'

'Yes; it will be pleasant. Thank you, Mel; it's something to look forward to.'

'Talking of looking forward to things, will you be well enough to play for us tonight, Lindir?' Erestor asked. 'For I know you visited Melpomaen for help with a strained wrist?'

'Thank you, it is much improved. I can take a turn, I think, as long as it is not too long.'

'There's cause to celebrate, anyway,' Elrohir said, winking at Erestor. 'I have some news… that is, Adar?' He turned innocent eyes on his father. 'Perhaps you would rather tell the company formally over supper?'

Elrond set his brow in a frown while his mouth smiled.

'No, indeed, my son, you will do it far more justice than will I… particularly as the details of when and where are not yet fixed…'

'Oh, that's easy enough! Well, everyone, you will be glad to hear that Rusdir and I have decided we would like to be vowed and married. Or married and vowed, however you want to put it…'

'Now, that does call for a celebration!' Glorfindel said, lifting his goblet. 'Good luck to you both… and, Elrond, don't you think that's cause for the good wine to go around…?'

'Indeed it does, although there seem to be far fewer bottles in store than when I left…' Elrond said in stern tones.

Glorfindel did not even pause.

'Ah, my lord, it's good to know that even though you've only been home a day, you've had time to visit the wine cellars for long enough to count the stock. That's what I call prioritising. Well, Elrohir, Rusdir, I will happily drink to your happiness.'

At least the news, which was hardly news at all to most of those assembled, provided a reason to smile and relax and be happy, to ask in eager tones for more information, when would it happen, where and how as they waited to be called to the table.

'Well, it cannot be right away,' Elrond said, trying to establish at least a little control over the discussion. 'There are things to organise first…'

'Yes, Ada; Lindir has promised to write us a wedding song, so we will have to wait for that.'

'Ah, but do you not have another composition to finish first, Lindir?' Elrond asked. 'That song for Kovalia, as you continue to call her…'

To Lindir, it felt as if the silence that followed Elrond's comment was personal, loaded. He swallowed, and tried to find some courage.

'In fact, Elrond, that is not how I work; if I am inspired, I will set aside a work in progress to begin another, and often while I proceed on that, further inspiration comes to me…'

'I am still waiting to hear the finished result, you see. It has been some time, after all…'

'A good song is like a story, my lord; one needs a suitable ending before one can record it properly. And Lady Mesri's tale is really only just beginning.' Lindir ventured a smile. 'I would not spoil the work for rushing it.'

Just at that moment, the meal was called, and the minstrel inclined his head and moved towards his seat with quiet dignity.

'Well said!' Melpomaen whispered, passing to take his own place, now rather lower than while Elrond had been away. 'Do not let yourself be bullied, mellon-nin!'

'We'll make sure that doesn't happen, eh, Mel?' Glorfindel asked with a wink, taking the seat next to Lindir. 'There, I'll ride point tonight. Not that I think there's going to be but one topic of conversation tonight – Roh and Rus will divert Elrond's attention beautifully, I think.' He reached for his goblet. 'Oh, and he really has broken out the good stuff tonight! Your health, my friends!'

Thoughts of a new composition kept Lindir occupied in his quiet moments during the next few days. He walked up to look at the mesri-plant (which, of course, was really the kovalia plant now), spent some time with Mel at his language study, and worked on an appropriate melody for the wedding song. It had to speak of love and true affection, and yet, it was for warriors, and so it had to have a degree of strength to it, a robustness and sturdiness about it. It made for an interesting challenge.

So occupied was he by the new song that he hardly noticed that Glorfindel and Melpomaen seemed busier than usual; Elrond had been complaining of slipping standards and so Glorfindel had been obliged to reinstate daily practice for the knights. That Elladan, Elrohir and Rusdir also attended the drills had not been Elrond's intention, but when he complained one day that it took them from him during his free morning hours and if he wanted to see his sons, he had to attend practice, Elladan had just shrugged.

'Leading by example, Adar,' he had said, and Elrond had turned away in silent annoyance to find something else with which to find fault.

It had not taken him long; from the practice ground the easiest way into the house took him past the healing rooms, and to his indignation, he found a sign on the door next to the duty roster:

"Healers Occupied Elsewhere: seek aid in the main house."

Fortunately for Melpomaen, his name was not down for duty until the afternoon, but Elrond nevertheless summoned him, and the main healer, to his study and lectured them for half an hour on responsibility and duty and the importance of being where one ought to be at the right time. As a result, the lead healer promptly claimed that she had been up most of the night with an unspecified emergency, and it was not fair to expect her to take morning duty as well… and decided Melpomaen was much better suited to the night watch than she…

This, in turn, meant that Mel left the Great Hall almost as soon as the evening meal was over, to rest for an hour or two before he began his watch. And all the extra work Glorfindel had been doing seemed to result in a string of minor injuries that, for some reason, he only felt late in the evening or very early in the morning, necessitating his visiting the healing rooms rather more than usual…

But although Lindir noticed his friend was not present as much during the evenings, with a very minor adjustment to their routine, he and Melpomaen continued to find time to study and talk together often enough that the minstrel didn't feel lonely.

Evenings and nights were harder, though. Elrond's insistence that everyone return to their properly assigned rooms had hit the minstrel hard; even though he felt much recovered from his ordeal, it had been good to know someone was only a tap on the wall away and, of course, Elrond's return had brought with it the reminder of Kovalia no longer being Kovalia, of her being married and therefore unavailable, and so while Lindir's dread of Briot invading his dreams was less, now he was anxious lest he dream of Kovalia…

He clung to the knowledge that he was better, much better, stroked the jewelled branches of his dream-sifter, thought of the kindness of Melpomaen, who had made it for him, and tried not to fear reverie.

Time began to pass again.

There were walks to look at the mesri-plant (in the afternoons now, since Mel needed some hours rest at least), pleasant hours of conversation in the warm air, there was progress to report on the song ('…at least their names names rhyme, and I can even make them alliterate if I contract "Elrohir" down to "Roh", but Elrond will not like it… then again, I am not writing it for him, but for my friend, his son…') and the only thing missing, really, was that where before Glorfindel would usually have joined them, the extra practice seemed to be taking its toll on the Balrog-slayer and he kept to his rooms in the afternoon.

Erestor joined them, though, and at Lindir's invitation, brought Arveldir with him. It was nice to get to know the serious Silvan outside the formality of the house, nice to watch Erestor relax and smile and hold hands decorously with his handsome Silvan husband.

But for all one might think Erestor's attention fully occupied with his husband, it was not the case, and one day, about a week after Melpomaen's enforced night duty had begun, the advisor looked from him to Lindir with a shake of the head.

'Both of you look exhausted!' he said. 'Melpomaen, I can understand why you should be tired, but Lindir, is all well?'

'I… am finding it difficult to find reverie, some nights,' Lindir admitted, lifting a hand as he saw Mel about to launch into full healer-mode. 'It is fine, Mel, really, I do not want a draught to help me sleep; it is but a temporary situation, it will pass.'

It will pass.

It seemed to have become Lindir's personal chant, he thought to himself on their return to the house. His distress and pain from the attack – it mostly had passed, the rest would pass. His personal, selfish sorrow that Kovalia was married – it would pass, and when it did, he could reassure himself with the thought that she belonged in her fiefdom and he belonged in Imladris, and the miles were long between the two places. Even Elrond's bad moods and insistence on everything being exactly to order, that, too, would pass.

Meanwhile, the household kept its collective head down and contented itself with minor, subversive acts of defiance that generally were so minor as to pass unnoticed, except for the relief they gave the perpetrators.

'Something is wrong,' Arveldir said one evening as he and Erestor readied themselves for supper. 'I had been hoping you would confide in me without prompting, my dear. But for the last two nights now, you have sighed when you thought I was not paying attention. How may I help?'

Erestor turned with a smile and a gesture that brought Arveldir across the room to him.

'It is nothing. Well, for me, personally, it is a very small matter… you remember I spoke of my misadventures on the way to the Fiefdom of the Desert Winds?'

'Yes; you were all drugged, and you were kidnapped, but later released unharmed. Is it praying on your mind, my love? It must be almost a year now, if I have it right…'

Erestor stroked his hand down Arveldir's shoulder, dropping his gaze.

'It is, and while I do not remember the incident fondly, another of our party has reason to be far more distressed… I cannot speak plainly without breaking a confidence, but I am worried for my former companion…'

'Erestor, beloved, I know the event to which you refer.' Arveldir nodded, and took Erestor's hands in his, rubbing his thumbs across Erestor's knuckles in a way that soothed his fëa. 'No one person has broken faith, but a few words here and there… I know Lindir's tale, and I am terribly sorry for him… and the thought of what might have been, beloved, had you…'

'Oh, no, I was not pretty enough, that is why they threw me back,' Erestor said with a catch in his voice that they both pretended was a laugh. 'But you see, he may need help. Elrond, I fear, has forgotten the incident and so will not realise…'

'And his friend the young healer is locked into night duty at the healer's rooms, it is rather unfair…'

'I did venture to suggest that Melpomaen had taken more than his turn, but Elrond has said he is not interfering in the running of infirmary… which is rather unjust, since it was his intervention that has led to this. But… if Lindir needs a friend and his friend is not to hand…'

'Anything you feel you need to do, my dear,' Arveldir said gently. 'Of course, if I may assist in any way –even without the poor minstrel knowing…'

'Thank you. Beloved, I am most grateful. I may well need to accept your gracious offer.'

The anniversary of the terrible night drew nearer with no mention of it by Lindir to any of his friends, at least, not that Erestor could see. Elrond seemed oblivious of any relevance; of course, it had been some time after the event that he had learned of it from Lindir's diary, which had not been dated as such. Elrohir was wrapped up in Rusdir, and Elladan filling the role of two sons to give his twin time to be with him. Melpomaen, too, might well have been ignorant of the date and Erestor would have been willing to bet that Glorfindel had lost track, too, except that the seneschal approached him in a quiet moment.

'Don't mention it to Lindir, in case he's coping on his own,' he said softly. 'But I think tonight's the night we drank drugged wine, which makes tomorrow a very bad day for him.'

'I was beginning to think only I remembered…'

'No, you couldn't really forget something like that if you tried, could you? I want to help but if I go blundering in, I might make things worse… I want to mention to Mel, but the poor penneth's so exhausted it wouldn't be fair… I'll wait for Lindir's lead, I think. Just so you know I know, though.'

Yes. Oddly enough, knowing that Glorfindel hadn't forgotten was reassuring; it meant Erestor did not feel he was the only one watching.

Next morning, he tried approaching Elrond with a hint that the current use of rooms was inefficient for the household staff, and that one or two small adjustments might make things easier, but his lord cut him off with a gesture.

'I know what this is about, Elrohir has been complaining that I've insisted that Silvan has a room to himself. Well, if they're not married, I won't have them behaving as if they are, not under my roof… and, no, I won't be hurried into an early date for the wedding, either.'

'In fact, my lord, it is not about Rusdir and Elrohir's arrangements, but…'

Elrond carried on as if Erestor had not spoken.

'So, thank you, Erestor, we will leave things as they are. If the staff are struggling because there is one extra room to clean, then perhaps Rusdir had better go back to his trees, then.'

With a bow, Erestor withdrew. If Elrond was once again fretting about his son's love life, then he was not likely to have room to process any other thoughts with the compassion for which he had once been famed. He would just have to be on the alert and be prepared to take care of Lindir himself, if need be.

He didn't have long to wait.

After supper, the evening passed in the Hall of Fire, Elrond conversing with his sons, grudgingly admitting Rusdir to the talk, Glorfindel lounging next to Melpomaen until the healer sighed and bid them all good evening before setting off for his night watch in the infirmary. It seemed to be the signal for Lindir to rise from their group and go to the harp. He began with bright tunes, but it was not long before the tone grew more sedate and sorrowing as time went on until finally he stilled the strings and came over to sit with Erestor, Arveldir and Glorfindel.

'I do not know what is up with me,' he said. 'My fingers will not dance in joy over the strings tonight.'

'Your playing was beautiful, nevertheless,' Erestor said. 'Thank you for sharing your gift with us.'

Another hour, and Elrond left the hall. Elrohir and Rusdir bid every goodnight to hasten away as if they had only been waiting for their father to go before they, too, escaped.

Elladan explained it.

'If Rus had gone first, Ada would have kept Roh talking for a good couple of hours – he's done it before, dragged him – dragged us both – into some tedious conversation in his study that neither of us could see the point of… and if Roh had gone first, it would have been awkward for Rusdir, left with Ada either ignoring him or being strictly polite… so this way, they can sidle off together. And I'm off to bed too; it's getting late.'

'It is indeed,' Glorfindel stretched and got to his feet. 'I want to have a chat to Asfaloth before I turn in – he's been complaining I don't spend enough time with him what with daily practice and things. So I will see you all later. If anyone needs anything… you know where to find me.'

The hall emptied until just Arveldir, Erestor, and Lindir were left.

'Well, Lindir, may I ask how is your wedding song coming along?' Arveldir asked.

'If I thought it would encourage our lord to permit the wedding sooner, I would declare it ready at once,' the minstrel replied. 'But perhaps you can advise, Lord Arveldir; the music of the Greenwood, are any particular instruments preferred? I would like to have the wedding song reflect Captain Rusdir's Silvan heritage as well as referencing Elrohir's background…'

The two discussed the music of Eryn Lasgalen for a few minutes while Erestor went about his nightly routine of ensuring the hall was properly ordered for the night; it was generally considered a hint, to any who might be lingering, that it was time to depart. But once he had finished and was ready to collect his husband and leave, he found Lindir still sitting in earnest conversation with Arveldir about instrumentation and arrangements, although the Silvan seemed to be more listening than participating now.

'Forgive me, Lindir, but might we continue tomorrow?' Arveldir said, noting Erestor's return. 'It is time I retired for the night.'

'Yes, of course, I am sorry, just because I do not feel sleepy yet, it is not fair of me to keep you up! Goodnight, then. Both of you.'

'Lindir?' Erestor asked, trying not to sound over-anxious. 'Are you not going to your own bed?'

'Oh, no, I… I thought I would sit up, tonight. The… the tone on the hall harp is different from my own, and I thought… well, if I played softly, I might… very softly…'

'In which case, goodnight,' Erestor took Arveldir's arm and left the hall. Halfway down the corridor to his room, he paused.

'He is not at ease, Arveldir, I need to do something…'

'But what, beloved? Sit up with him all night?'

'I have a plan; I wondered if I might need one, but would you pardon me?'

'Of course, but…'

Erestor silenced him with a chaste kiss.

'You are very good. Thank you. And do not worry.'

Erestor left his husband and hastened to the stables. It was his hope that Glorfindel would have been delayed on his intended visit to Asfaloth, for he wanted to get to the horse first; Fin seemed to have found a way of absenting himself of late that was at once disconcerting and intriguing, but it was not Erestor's place to question the seneschal's whereabouts.

Fortunately, the stall was empty except for the ghostly white stallion who snorted and whickered hopefully as Erestor greeted him softly and approached.

'I have a few treats for you, mellon-nin, but I have a small favour to ask of you in return… when your friend Glorfindel comes in…'

He had time to make his request, feed a few dried cherries to the horse and explain how very kind it would be of him to accede to Erestor's wishes when a sound outside alerted him to Glorfindel's presence. Knowing that however much wine the seneschal may have imbibed his reflexes were still quite sharp enough to cause serious mayhem to one's person if he thought one might have been lurking with evil intent, he thought it best to announce himself.

'Glorfindel? I thought I would spend a little time with Asfaloth while you were detained. We have been having rather a nice talk, in fact.'

'Yes? Very kind of you, what's going on really, though, Erestor? You've been off all evening and…'

'Remember, just a little,' Erestor murmured and stepped back from the horse as Asfaloth delivered a short, sharp back-kick to one of Glorfindel's shins.

'Ow! Owww! What was that for, wretched beast?' Glorfindel limped back, rubbing his leg.

'Two handfuls of cherries and the promise of more tomorrow,' Erestor said. 'Do not blame your poor horse; I asked him to kick you.'

'Why in the name of all the Valar would you do that?'

'Because he can kick harder than I. Come now, back to the Hall of Fire with me.'

'No, oh, no, I need to go back to the inf… go to the infirmary…'

'And so you shall, presently. Come. Findel – it is important.'

'But…'

'It is for Lindir's sake.'

'Oh. Oh, all right then, you maniac! But I need to lean on you… I don't know, that horse of mine will do anything for cherries…'