The 'Life in Imladris' Arc – stories focused on the inhabitants of Rivendell.
SeveranceFinally, the sequel to 'Dandelion.' It was a struggle to write... none of my characters wanted to do what I wanted them to do. The only one who turned out exactly how I wanted was Rumil, go figure. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. I've written a lot in numerous stories for this arc, but I hesitate to post anything until the story is completely, so unfortunately, they'll probably be long in coming.
Disclaimer: This fictional story is completely made up for fun and no profit is made from it. Any similarities to real events or other writings is purely coincidental. The relationship between Lindir and Glorfindel is not an original idea but I took great pains to portray it in an original way.
Please leave me a review or constructive criticism. I want to be a better writer.
Onto the story...
Lindir carefully pushed open the door that led from his closet to the antechamber of Glorfindel's suite. It was the first time he had made use of it since being informed of its existence only a few weeks prior, but he could hear voices in the hall outside his room which he wanted to avoid and he desperately wanted to speak with the balrog-slayer.
The moon cast long shadows throughout the small room. Lindir paid them no heed as he moved silently across the thickly carpeted floor towards the great carved door that led to Glorfindel's bedchamber. He tried the latch on the door and was pleased to find that it was unlocked. He slipped inside and cautiously approached the large bed situated in the center of the room.
Glorfindel lay sprawled out on his stomach, one hand curled under his pillow and the other hanging off the edge of the bed. His brilliant golden-blond hair cascaded around him, shimmering slightly in the moonlight. The coverings, only a thin sheet since it was a warm night, were pushed down, revealing that the famed elf wore only sleep pants to bed.
"Glorfindel?" Lindir said quietly, kneeling at the edge of the bed so he could see his yontatar's half-lidded blue eyes. Glorfindel didn't react. Lindir knew he was quite worn out from a full day of training his novices and the sons of Elrond, but Lindir had lain awake the past few nights, unable to sleep as pestering thoughts refused to leave him in peace. He could not wait another moment to speak with the older elf. "Glorfindel!" he called again, slightly louder. This had the desired effect and Glorfindel blinked awake, starting slightly to find a pair of hazel eyes so close to his own face.
"Lindir," Glorfindel groaned, rolling onto his back as the last strands of sleep left his tired body. "What is it child?" Ever since he had been reconciled with the younger elf, Glorfindel had done his best to always seem available and approachable to his adopted son, but he was not feeling very hospitable at the moment.
"I must speak with you," Lindir answered, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
"Then lay down," Glorfindel replied, slightly annoyed, and grew more irate when Lindir refused.
"No, you must stay awake for this Glorfindel. I know your methods," Lindir argued, catching the older elf's large hand in his own. The strength in the battle-worn hands never ceased to amaze Lindir and every day he was thankful to gain the warrior's love in return.
"You have found me out," Glorfindel sighed, squeezing Lindir's hand. "Tell me then, what it is that you could not wait until morning to discuss?"
"I wish to go to Lothlórien," Lindir answered.
Glorfindel was silent for a pregnant moment before questioning, "Why?"
"To confront my father," Lindir replied bluntly. He didn't like the way the older elf's brow creased with displeasure, but he was sure of his decision to do this. He wanted to close this last chapter in his life and finally embrace the complete happiness he had found in Imladris.
"I cannot stop you," Glorfindel answered and he found it hard to hide the fear in his voice. Was it not just a month or so ago that he had officially named Lindir his heir and already the minstrel wanted to part ways? His heart ached at the very thought.
"No, it is not as you think!" Lindir exclaimed, easily interpreting Glorfindel's expression. He clutched Glorfindel's hand to his chest. "I would that you accompany me. I mean to officially sever my relation to Loswan, but it will not be easy. I will need your strength," Lindir explained hastily.
Glorfindel felt the fist around his heart loosen immediately and he let out a deep breath. "Do you think it wise to bring old memories to bear?" Glorfindel asked, secretly hoping Lindir could be persuaded to let dead orcs rot. For all he cared, that loathsome elf could wither away in the Golden Wood and Glorfindel would not be the least bit affected. However, he also knew that Lindir was much more sentimental and emotional than he and if it was that important to him, Glorfindel could not possibly refuse him.
"I want to move on with my life, Glorfindel, and not spend each day wondering if it will be the one where he finally remembers I exist and comes to destroy everything I have here," Lindir answered passionately.
"All is well, child," Glorfindel comforted, brushing his fingertips over Lindir's cheek. "I shall speak with Elrond in the morning. Now come and lay with me. I shall let no bothersome warg-bait come between us." He pulled Lindir down and wrapped an arm around the slighter form, intending to keep his promise right then and there. Lindir didn't seem to mind and curled up closer to him, his worries vanquished for the time being. Sleep came quickly.
Elrond had been hesitant to let the commander of the Imladris guard depart for a trip of indeterminate length, but he wisely held his tongue and instead gave Glorfindel his blessings. His decision, of course, had nothing to do with the imploring hazel eyes that bore into him from over Glorfindel's shoulder. Now the elf-lord stood in the main courtyard of the Last Homely House, preparing to wish his friends a safe journey.
"You will send a message when you arrive," Elrond said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He was completely serious and did not appreciate the mirth he saw in his friend's eyes.
"So the truth comes out. You do care about me," Glorfindel teased, reaching over to pat Elrond on the cheek. Elrond slapped his hand away and leveled him with a highly intimidating glare. Well, it would have been intimidating had Glorfindel not been on the receiving end of it many times before and had long ago grown immune.
"Hardly," Elrond scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. Lindir stepped behind Glorfindel, placing the warrior between himself and the irate elf-lord.
"You should be leaving if you wish to reach the first camp by nightfall," Erestor spoke up from where he stood next to Elrond.
"You are right," Glorfindel agreed. The path between Imladris and Lothlórien was a well-tread one and therefore a few stops had been created to make travel between the two realms more convenient. The campsites were left stocked with tinder and fire wood, and were known have good shelter in bad weather. The first campsite from Imladris was set further apart from the rest as a security precaution. Glorfindel did not want someone who mistakenly stumbled upon the campsite to also find his way into the protected valley. It would take all day to arrive there, even if one left just as the sun was rising, as he and Lindir were doing.
That was also the reason their parting party consisted of only Elrond and Erestor. Celebrían and the twins still slept, as did most of other residents. Glorfindel quite preferred the small group. He knew the twins would be grumpy since they were not allowed to go as well, despite the incidents that had occurred the last time they left the safety of their father's haven with the balrog-slayer.
"Good-bye, Lindir," Erestor said and in a rare show of emotion, he pulled the younger elf into a hug. Lindir hugged him back and Erestor whispered into his pointed ear, "All will be fine, my friend. Remember to listen foremost to your heart." Lindir nodded slightly against his shoulder and then Erestor released him with a small smile. "Good-bye, ondo," Erestor said to Glorfindel.
"Good-bye, wembë," Glorfindel returned with a smirk. He and Lindir mounted their respective horses, and with a final wave to their friends, they turned and headed away from the sprawling house. Erestor and Elrond waited until they had turned the bend and were out of sight before heading back inside.
They arrived at the edge of the Golden Wood in little over a week. It was not long until Glorfindel began to sense the presence of other elves. He looked up into the bows of the ancient trees. "Show yourselves, guards of 'Lorien."
Haldir o'Lorien appeared before them silently, a half-smirk on his face. "Glorfindel of Gondolin and Lindir of Imladris, mae govannen."
"Mae govannen," Glorfindel replied tersely. It was no secret that little love was lost between the balrog-slayer and the three infamous guardians of Lothlórien, despite the brothers' close ties to Celebrían and Lindir's friendship with Rúmil. "We seek an audience with your lord and lady."
"Of course," Haldir nodded. "Lord Celeborn told me to expect you." He motioned towards one of the trees and a familiar blond figure dropped down beside his older brother, eliciting a small smile from Lindir.
"Mae govannen," Rúmil grinned.
"Mae govannen," Lindir replied. Glorfindel frowned.
"Rúmil will escort you to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," Haldir informed them. "I will send word ahead that you have arrived."
"Thank you," Glorfindel said shortly. His ire increased when instead of the two travelers dismounting to walk the rest of the way to Caras Galadhon, Rúmil pulled himself up onto the horse behind Lindir. Lindir didn't seem to mind.
"How was your journey?" Rúmil asked once they had parted company with Haldir and the other guards.
"Uneventful, fortunately," Lindir replied. "We made good time as well."
"It is unusual that Celeborn would send you or your brothers on patrol together," Glorfindel commented, changing the subject.
"And for a good reason," Rúmil smirked. "However, I just arrived this morning to join them so I could act as an escort to you once you arrived. Usually I am posted in the east. It is a good thing I arrived when I did, else I would have missed you."
"Pity," Glorfindel muttered.
"Oh, come now my friend. Do you mean to say that you would rather I not escorted you to my lord and lady?" Rúmil, like everyone else, knew that Glorfindel cared not for him or his brothers, but it didn't bother him in the least. It only made it that much more entertaining to annoy the warrior.
"That is exactly what I mean to say," Glorfindel replied confidently. He was not easily intimidated by the somewhat overbearing siblings.
"Let us have peace, we have only just arrived," Lindir requested, shooting Glorfindel a look that read, do not drop down to his level.
"I am sorry, mellon," Rúmil answered, reaching up to tuck a wayward braid behind Lindir's ear. Glorfindel glared at the action. "Tell me now, for what reason do you seek the lord and lady? No ill tidings have reached us from Imladris and I know Glorfindel does not act as a messenger."
"Nay, he does not. I have come for personal reasons," Lindir explained. "I seek my father."
"But…" Rúmil glanced over at Glorfindel in confusion. Was this the reason the balrog-slayer was of such an ill countenance? He knew Glorfindel had officially adopted Lindir as his heir a few months past. "I thought he resided in the halls of Mandos."
"I nearly wish he did," Lindir frowned. "He resides here, last I heard of him."
"Mayhap I know him? What is his name?"
"Loswan," answered Lindir, glancing over his shoulder at his long-time friend.
"From Tauno-Osto?" Rúmil exclaimed. "He arrived here centuries ago. He never made mention of a son, at least to me."
"He is happier without me," Lindir sighed dejectedly. "Glorfindel met him during the Last Alliance and told him where to find me, yet he never came."
"He is still living here?" Glorfindel questioned.
"Aye, he is on patrol to the north as we speak. He is due to return to the heart of the wood in a week," Rúmil replied.
"What do you think of him?" Lindir asked.
"I barely know him," Rúmil answered hesitantly. He glanced sideways and caught Glorfindel's eye, asking silently if he should tell Lindir of his father. Glorfindel shook his head minutely so Rúmil kept his peace. Lindir was suspicious that Rúmil knew more than he was saying, but did not press him for information. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know more about the elf.
"Welcome to Caras Galadhon," Celeborn greeted them. "I trust your journey was safe?"
"It was," Glorfindel nodded.
"Elrond sent word that you are seeking a certain elf within our borders," Celeborn continued.
"Aye, we look for Loswan," Glorfindel replied. "Lindir would have words with him, for Loswan is his sire."
There was a moment of silence during which Celeborn and Galadriel communicated telepathically before Celeborn addressed his guests once more. "Loswan is on patrol right now and due back at the end of the week. If you like, word could be sent to him to return immediately."
"No," Lindir spoke for the first time. "I do not mind waiting." The other four elves looked at him in surprise, but all understood his desire to postpone the meeting. Even Galadriel could not guess how the confrontation would go.
"That is well," Celeborn complied. "Rúmil, would you please show Lord Glorfindel and Lindir to a guest talan and then meet me in my office."
"I will, my lord." Rúmil bowed respectfully and then turned to the travelers from Imladris. "If you please?" Glorfindel and Lindir followed him from the ethereally lighted platform.
"Glorfindel, Lindir, I bid you to join us for dinner this eve," Galadriel called after them. Glorfindel turned to accept the invitation and then continued after the two younger elves.
"Is this to your liking?" Rúmil questioned a few minutes later once they stood at the base of a large tree. "It will be fine," Glorfindel nodded.
"You must excuse me, then. I will try to speak with you again ere I return to my patrol," Rúmil said.
"I will look forward to it," Lindir smiled. Glorfindel simply grunted his permission and began climbing the rope ladder to the flet. Rúmil clasped Lindir on the shoulder in parting. Once he had disappeared between the towering trees Lindir turned to follow Glorfindel to their sleeping place for the next couple of weeks.
"I do not know if I am happy that Loswan is here or not," Lindir admitted to Glorfindel while they were unpacking their travel bags.
"You had hoped he would not be?"
"Partially," Lindir sighed. "You know how I am about confrontations."
"Aye, you fear them more than the wargs beneath your bed."
"There are no wargs beneath my bed," Lindir chuckled.
"Ah yes, I remember vanquishing them all, numerous times."
"My hero," Lindir joked in a high-pitched voice, folding his hands together under his chin and batting his eyelashes.
"Imp," Glorfindel laughed.
"I am glad you are less irate now," Lindir commented. "I was worried for the safety of the Galadhrim."
"Unlike you, I enjoy confrontation. I have already stored up many words for Loswan," Glorfindel replied with a predatory smile.
"I am sure you have," Lindir smirked. "You must let me say my piece first, though."
"I will," Glorfindel promised.
Glorfindel was surprised and not pleased to see Rúmil waiting for them in the private dining room of Celeborn and Galadriel, wearing a normal tunic, leggings, and house shoes instead of his Galadhrim uniform. He had hoped the younger elf would have already been sent back to his patrol.
"Greetings," Rúmil acknowledged them.
"You are joining us for dinner?" Lindir questioned hopefully.
"Aye. Lord Celeborn informed me that I am relieved of my duties during your visit. Apparently, my vacation had been planned since Lord Elrond's letter arrived, but neither my lord nor Haldir decided to tell me until today."
"Wonderful," Glorfindel frowned. Rúmil smirked at him. Before either could speak again, Celeborn and Galadriel entered. Celeborn pulled out a chair for his beautiful wife before seating himself at the head of the table.
"Is your talan suitable?" Celeborn asked graciously, pouring himself a small glass of wine.
"It is," Glorfindel replied, accepting the bottle of wine from him and pouring his own glass. He passed the bottle to Lindir.
"How are things in Imladris?"
"Good. The twins seem no worse for wear from our hunting expedition, and Elrond and Celebrían flirt with each other more than is entirely necessary," Glorfindel answered with a joking tone.
"Yes, Celebrían has told me she wants another elfling," Galadriel smiled. "Elrond thinks the twins are enough for right now."
"I agree," Glorfindel laughed. "Celebrían's heart is quite large and I believe she still misses the presence of the Mirkwood prince."
"It has been a while since word has come from Mirkwood," Rúmil stated. "If I recall correctly, Legolas is already forty-two."
"Too big for you to pick on anymore," Lindir teased. Rúmil simply shrugged, ignoring Celeborn's look of exasperation.
The rest of the dinner past uneventfully, with the main topics of conversation focusing on Lindir's adoption party and the threat to Imladris' borders by the fell beasts that lingered in Middle-earth. All were careful to not mention Loswan.
After dinner, Lindir and Glorfindel declined the invitation to join the Lothlórien elves for the evening songs in a shaded glen not far from the Celebrant. They were both tired from their long journey and wished to retire.
Despite his fatigue, Lindir found he couldn't escape into elvish reveries. Too many thoughts chased each other through his head. He worried about how his father would react to seeing him after all these years. He wondered how Loswan would take the news that Glorfindel had adopted him as his own. He was curious to know if Loswan knew about Glorfindel's affair with his mother. What did his father even look like? Lindir only had blurry, brief recollections of the elf who had sired him. Would Lindir feel kinship with the stranger or would it be as if they had never met?
He rolled over on his narrow cot and sighed, staring blankly at the wooden walls of their flet. Was his father a great warrior, like Glorfindel? Lindir knew that Loswan had fought in the Last Alliance and managed to survive. Was Loswan sensitive and a lover of the arts, like Lindir? Lindir doubted it. After all, his father had abandoned him and it was Ancalë, his mother, who loved listening to the musicians.
Glorfindel suffered from his own doubts. True, he had managed to find sleep, but his dreams were not peaceful. His fears manifested themselves as shadowy images. He imagined Lindir coming face to face with his father and forgiving the elf. Lindir would claim kinship with the cowardly warrior and renounce his ties to Glorfindel. After the way Glorfindel had treated Lindir during the decades after the Last Alliance, it would not surprise him if the young minstrel chose to leave him.
Glorfindel's eyes cleared to reveal the leafy ceiling of the flet. He scowled. Lindir would not turn on him like that. The younger elf had fought too hard to keep Glorfindel in his life. He didn't even know that dratted elf from Tauno-Osto. Glorfindel knew that he would, in turn, fight to keep Lindir, even if it meant drawing swords against his rival.
"Glorfindel?" The balrog-slayer started at the hushed whisper. Lindir must have realized he had awoken.
"What is it, sinquelë?"
"You are awake as well?" Lindir sat up, looking over at the older elf.
"Aye. Dreams plague me."
"What dreams?" Lindir assumed he meant the nightmares he suffered from that concerned his first death. The first time Lindir had witnessed one of the nightmares it had scared him badly and taken Erestor most of the night to soothe his trembling form while Elrond sat with Glorfindel. Only when the three older elves felt Lindir was old enough to handle the knowledge of Glorfindel's painful past did they explain the nightmares.
"Nothing to worry your pretty little head over," Glorfindel answered. He would not admit just how much he feared Lindir's reaction to Loswan. "You brought one of your flutes, did you not?"
"I did," Lindir confirmed. He loved his music so much that he rarely traveled without one of the smaller instruments. If it wasn't so cumbersome, Lindir would have always brought his harp.
"Play for me," Glorfindel requested.
"What do you want to hear?" Lindir asked, sliding from his cot and moving to where their bags were resting. He retrieved the flute quickly.
"Something inspirational," Glorfindel replied. "Happy, but not too upbeat." Lindir complied, raising the instrument to his mouth and finding the correct fingering for the first note. Glorfindel let his eyes fall shut after the first few notes, letting the tune wash over him. It was comforting and he was nearly asleep again by the time Lindir reached the end of the song.
The week passed too quickly for Lindir's tastes. He had spent the past days in the company of Rúmil and a few of his Galadhrim friends who weren't on patrol that week. His evenings passed in the company of Glorfindel and the lord and lady of Lothlórien. He had enjoyed himself even though his fear of confronting his father always lurked in the back of his mind.
Now it was the morning of Loswan's scheduled return to Caras Galadhon. Lindir was waiting impatiently in the main receiving room of the legendary capital. He had tried to distract himself by playing chess with Rúmil, but in the end the slightly older elf had put the game away and simply offered a shoulder for Lindir to lean on. The two blonds absently watched Glorfindel as he paced on the other side of the room.
"What time do the patrols usually return?" Glorfindel questioned, turning towards the younger elves.
"His patrol was not stationed too far to the north. They should return around midday," Rúmil replied.
"Are your brothers also due to return today?" Lindir asked quietly.
"No, the patrols are staggered in such a way that there is always a group in the vicinity who has been out for a while. It would not do for the entire guard to change at one time. Haldir may return around midweek, but Orophin is not due back for another fortnight," explained Rúmil.
"Oh." Lindir was quiet for a moment before asking, "Do you remember your parents?"
"No. I only know stories, but they are few in number. Haldir does not like to speak of them and Orophin was still young when they passed."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Rúmil replied, nudging his friend in the side. "I've had a long time to deal with it, and I was never wanting for affection. Between my brothers and Celebrían, I probably would have been happier with less!" he laughed.
"I bet you were cute as an elfling," Lindir teased him. "Lady Celebrían always coddles the cute elflings."
"I certainly was not!" Rúmil denied. "I was never cute. I was always tough. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that I would be a celebrated warrior."
"So what happened?" Lindir asked with a smirk.
"I'm still working on it," Rúmil grinned.
Before Lindir could retort, the door to the room opened and Celeborn entered with Galadriel. The younger elves scrambled to their feet so they could bow their heads respectively to the ruling elves. Glorfindel was too impatient to stand on ceremony.
"Does he come?"
"Shortly," Galadriel replied with a knowing smile.
"Any news from the borders?" Rúmil asked curiously.
"All is well for the time being," Celeborn informed him. He guided his beloved wife to the two high backed chairs that were beautifully displayed on a low dais along one wall of the airy room.
"He is here," Galadriel said cryptically once she was comfortably seated. Lindir felt his heart rate quicken with anticipation. Soon most of his questions regarding his biological father would be answered, whether he liked the answers or not.
An attendant entered the room and announced the warrior. Lindir held his breath as he watched the door slowly open to admit the strange elf. He felt Glorfindel's large, comforting hand on the small of his back.
The elf that entered was quite ordinary, though he carried himself as one who had known comfort and riches for the better part of his life. Despite being a common soldier at the present time, it was obvious that at one point he had been a son of an influential family.
Loswan's hair was dark and his eyes shadowed. He stood tall; not nearly as tall as Glorfindel, but he held his own. He had changed out of his soiled uniform and was wearing a clean tunic, leggings, and boots that reached mid-calf. His broadsword was strapped to his waist and a dark gray cloak trailed behind him as he walked confidently towards his lord and lady.
"Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel," he bowed stiffly. "You summoned?"
"Guests from Imladris have come to speak with you, Loswan," Celeborn informed him. Loswan's dark brown eyes glanced over to where Glorfindel, Lindir, and Rúmil stood. He recognized the famous balrog-slayer immediately, and of course he knew who Rúmil was. The elf between them seemed familiar, but Loswan could not place him.
"I am acquainted with Lord Glorfindel," Loswan said. "We exchanged words upon the slopes of Mordor."
"Those words are of the same grain as the ones I wish to exchange with you today," Glorfindel spoke out, not caring for formality or diplomacy any longer. Simply seeing Lindir's father, his rival, in the flesh again after so many torturous years made the balrog-slayer's blood boil. This elf was the cause of much heartache in his life, but more importantly, his blatant disregard had hurt Lindir.
"Forgive me if I do not remember the exact topic of our conversation," Loswan replied testily. He did not appreciate Glorfindel's tone of voice.
"Perhaps this will refresh your memory. Allow me to introduce you to Lindir, your son," Glorfindel said darkly, motioning behind him to where Lindir stood nervously. Rúmil poked Lindir in the back until the minstrel took a hesitant step forward.
"Mae govannen," Lindir spoke in barely more than a whisper.
"Lindir." Loswan's tone was surprised. "This is a pleasant surprise." He glanced quickly at Glorfindel and suddenly everything seemed to make sense. Glorfindel had spoken of Lindir during the last war and now the warrior of Gondolin had brought the boy to Lothlórien to confront him. They must have become weary of waiting for him to arrive in Imladris. Loswan grew angry. He didn't like being confronted.
"I would like to speak with you," Lindir said, his confidence returning slightly. He felt no connection to this elf. Perhaps it would be easier to break with him than he had thought.
"I have nothing to say to you," Loswan stated bluntly. Lindir was taken aback by the angry tone, but to his surprise, he did not relent fearfully as he normally would in a similar situation. Instead, he took a step forward, his owe ire giving him courage.
"I have things to say to you," Lindir argued heatedly.
"You raise your voice at me?" Loswan demanded, his eyes narrowing at the younger elf. "If you are my son, then you will treat me with respect."
"When you earn my respect, I will treat you with it," Lindir countered.
"I will not deal with this nonsense," Loswan growled, turning to face his lord and lady. "I am tired from my patrol and wish to retire." Without waiting for permission to leave, he stormed out of the room.
I will have words with you, child, but they will be on my terms, and no overrated warrior will be breathing down my neck at the time, Loswan thought to himself as he stomped down the spiraling stairs to the forest floor. He didn't understand why such an important character was so concerned with a worthless 'singer' from Tauno-Osto.
"I can't believe him!" Lindir ranted, pacing across the wooden floor of the flet he shared with Glorfindel. Glorfindel sat on his cot, leaning back against the wall as he watched the younger elf try to expel some of his frustration. His emotions warred within him. He was ecstatic that Lindir was so upset with his father. However, he was not happy that Lindir was upset. "How can he have nothing to say to me? He abandoned my mother and me! He ignored my existence for a hundred and eighty years!"
"Calm down, sinquelë," Glorfindel urged, trying to swallow a triumphant smile. Lindir glared at him.
"Why do you find this so amusing?" the minstrel demanded, stalking over to stand directly in front of the older elf.
"It's not," Glorfindel replied, the corners of his mouth twitching.
"You're laughing at me!" Lindir exclaimed, throwing up his hands in exasperation.
"I would never laugh at you when you're so upset, Lindir," Glorfindel said seriously.
"Then why are you so happy?" Lindir sneered.
"Because I no longer have to fear that he will win you away from me," Glorfindel admitted.
"He surely won't! I can't believe he thinks he has nothing to say to me!"
Glorfindel stood, sensing that Lindir was about to launch into another tirade and begin repeating material. The minstrel needed to vent his frustration and Glorfindel knew just how to do that. "Hush," he ordered, pressing a finger to Lindir's lips before the younger elf could complain about being abandoned again. "Grab your sword and meet me in the clearing just west of here," he instructed. Before Lindir could argue, Glorfindel was gone, descending the rope ladder effortlessly. Lindir sighed and located his sword before following his adoptive sire.
He found Glorfindel standing the middle of the clearing wearing only a pair of dark blue leggings. His tunic and boots were discarded under the boughs of a willow tree. His long golden locks were tamed into one long braid.
"Come on then, show me what you've got," Glorfindel taunted, swinging his own long sword skillfully. Lindir toed off his traveling boots but kept his tunic on. He approached the warrior. "Pretend I am Loswan. Let me know how you feel about my actions."
"I could not threaten him with a weapon, no matter how much he hurts me," Lindir argued weakly. "He is still my blood."
Glorfindel rolled his eyes. "Fine. Pretend I am one of the twins and I have just filled one of your flutes with tar."
"I should just challenge Lord Elrond to a duel myself before attacking one of his sons!" Lindir exclaimed, looking quite pale at the thought. Glorfindel ground his teeth together.
"Use your imagination! Are you not supposed to be creative?" he taunted.
"I am creative," Lindir frowned.
"Then come, spar with me, and unleash your anger for your father."
"I do not think sparring is a good way to vent anger," Lindir informed him. "I prefer writing…" He barely raised his sword in time to block the sweeping swing of Glorfindel's sword at chest level. "I wasn't ready!" Glorfindel ignored him and swung again, this time aiming for Lindir's knees. The younger elf deflected the blow and glared at his opponent. "Stop it! I am trying to explain…" He ducked from the attempt at his neck. His ire rose again and the next time Glorfindel swung at him, Lindir raised his own weapon to meet the opposing sword instead of just diverting the blows.
"Finally," Glorfindel muttered to himself as Lindir tried to strike him. Glorfindel easily situated himself in a comfortable stance which allowed him to defend himself while he let Lindir take the offensive position. Lindir's strikes were not delivered with the same finesse and agility that Glorfindel was used to when working with his warriors, but the younger elf wasn't as strong or quick so Glorfindel had little trouble blocking the erratic and random attacks.
Lindir quickly spent his rage, letting the tip of his sword fall to the ground as the adrenaline rush left him, leaving him lightheaded and short of breath. He had not exerted himself thusly for a long time.
Glorfindel sheathed his sword and moved to stand beside Lindir, placing his hand on the younger elf's shoulder. "Are you still angry?"
"Yes," Lindir answered between deep breaths. "Yet, I do not feel the rage anymore. Thank you."
"There is not better cure for emotions than physical exercise," Glorfindel commented. "Now that your head has been cleared, we can forget all that has happened today and not think upon the situation again until it is necessary."
"But how can I just forget?" Lindir cried. "He abandoned my mother and me, and then the way he spoke to me today… how dare him?"
Glorfindel smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead. Artists!
The next morning found Lindir in a different mood, yet in Glorfindel's opinion, it was not a much improved mood. Instead of feeling angry and offended, Lindir moped about the talon, mourning to Glorfindel about betrayal and being unwanted.
Glorfindel, after having his first few attempts at sympathy rebuked with harsh turns of phrase (Lindir was obviously spending too much time around Erestor), had done the only thing he could think of: he dumped Lindir off with Rúmil and hid away to nurse his own righteous indignation at Loswan.
Rúmil, while being of similar to disposition as Glorfindel and unable to cope with Lindir's melancholy, was nonetheless not harboring any resentment towards his fellow guard. Therefore, he was more successful in distracting Lindir with a trip to the river and stories about the mishaps of him and his friends.
"Prestannen, whom you know to be somewhat off, got the great idea to play a wonderfully ingenious prank on Haldir," Rúmil chuckled, recalling one of his most recent escapades. "It would have involved mistaken identity, Mirkwood spiders, a fair maiden… yet in order for it to work, we needed dear Orophin's aid. He had to distract Haldir so we could set up the prank. However, unbeknownst to me at the time, he was more annoyed with me than our older brother and in quite a turnabout, he proceeded to inform Haldir of our plot rather than distract him. Haldir, being the overblown, pompous elf that he is, did not appreciate the cleverness of our scheme. You should have seen him come storming into the garden, smoke pouring from his ears. Just the sight was enough to make the ensuing thrashing worth it."
"He beat you?" Lindir asked incredulously.
"Within an inch of my life," Rúmil grinned, flopping back on the grass.
"You jest," Lindir accused him, unable to believe that Haldir would do such a thing.
"I am quite serious!" Rúmil insisted, but there was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Lindir decided not to believe him.
"One of these days, someone truly will beat you within an inch of your life," Lindir said, shaking his finger at his friend. "And I shall stand aside and think to myself, well, he deserves it, what with all the antagonizing he does."
"Perhaps, but I shall endeavor to never be caught with hands too red. You see, the best part was that Orophin bore the brunt of Haldir's annoyance. 'Orophin, he's your little brother. You should not encourage such behavior,'" Rúmil mimicked in a pitched voice that sounded nothing like his eldest brother's.
"I thought you said Haldir beat you within an inch of your life," Lindir pointed out.
"You didn't believe me anyway," Rúmil shrugged with a large grin.
"I'm surprised you didn't jump to Orophin's defense and claim that you didn't need your older brothers' treating you like an elfling anymore."
"Are you mad? Would you try to make Haldir angry with you when steam was billowing from his ears? Let Orophin take it."
"You are horrible. Thank the Valar I am an only child."
"You should thank the Valar that I am fully dressed and do not feel like dunking you in the river," Rúmil retorted humorously.
"I shall," Lindir responded. "Among many other things."
"Are you becoming melancholy again?" Rúmil exclaimed, throwing a clump of grass at his friend. "Here I tell you of how I plotted this marvelous prank which was completely ruined by my backstabbing brother, who later tried to kinslay me, and all you can do is moon about some stupid elf."
"Pardon me, but I am having quite a hard time keeping track of your story. It changes each time you tell it."
"So it does," Rúmil agreed. "Perhaps I shall have to dunk you after all."
"I have a better idea."
"What is that?"
"That you don't dunk me."
"How is that a better idea?"
"It just is. Trust me."
"Fortunately for you, I do. So tell me, what of my precious lady's daughter's husband's horrible offspring?"
"Your what?"
"The twins," Rúmil explained, waving his hand through the air dismissively, as if Lindir should have had no trouble determining who he meant.
"Did you hear of our journey to the mountains?"
"Briefly."
Lindir was unable to elaborate on the story for just then, a new presence entered the riverside clearing. It was Loswan.
Loswan had changed from his guard uniform into something more suitable for wandering around the Golden Wood. His mood had not improved since being confronted with his past the day before. Who did Glorfindel think he was, meddling with Loswan's life like that? Why had the Lord and Lady not given him warning of what was waiting for him?
When the news of Ancalë's death had reached him, he hadn't been surprised. He felt the tear in their bond. He mourned more for the empty ache within him than for the loss of an immortal life. It was a nuisance that he had to deal with every day of his life.
He had automatically assumed that the child had perished with his unloving wife. He rather hoped the child had died, for then he would be free to start a new life without his duties to his family restraining him. It was not as if he had ever been close to his offspring, who was more of an embarrassment to him than anything else.
His closest friends had told him he was being paranoid, but Loswan was sure he hadn't imagined the whispers and looks that passed between his fellow elves when his face was turned away. He knew what they were saying. Look at that elf whose wife pines for another. Look at that elf whose son does not resemble him. Had Ancalë lain with another?
Loswan shook his head to dispel the mocking voices. He knew Ancalë had never betrayed their bond, at least not physically. She had never truly given him her heart however. Her father had insisted that she could grow to love her new husband, and like the fool he was, Loswan had believed the older elf. See where his mistake had taken him? And now, his embarrassment of a son had returned from the grave to torment him anew.
His ire perked when he stepped into the clearing to find the elf in question seated before him, a startled look on his face. Loswan scowled. He did not want to speak with the blond at this time, but he quickly realized that it was only his son and the captain's irritating youngest brother who regarded him warily. Glorfindel was nowhere to be found. Perhaps now would be a good time to exchange words with the brat, without the meddling warrior interfering.
"Mae govannen," Lindir greeted, standing slowly. Rúmil stood as well, nodding briefly to his fellow warrior.
"I am not pleased to meet you," Loswan replied menacingly. "Why have you come here?"
Lindir was slightly taken aback at the harsh statement, but he recovered quickly. "I have come to officially sever our relations, seeing as how you never bothered to find me after the war."
"And you couldn't have sent a message?"
"I would not hide behind parchment and quill. I would see your face as you tell me why you abandoned us in Tauno-Osto," Lindir replied, his own anger returning forcefully. Never had another being caused him to be so emotionally volatile, even Glorfindel.
"I will tell you why, you disrespectful orcling." Loswan took a step towards Lindir. Rúmil, his instincts warning him of a threat, moved in behind his friend, keeping a close eye on the older elf. He was sure Loswan would not attack them, but he was still armed with a long sword while all Rúmil carried was a dagger and Lindir was completely weaponless. "Your mother was a disgrace, a mistake, and she went behind my back to have a bastard child!"
"That is not true and you know it! She never was unfaithful to you," Lindir shot back.
"She was never true to me! For long years she pined for a dead lover, the whore, and when she finally does her duty by me, the child is an abhorrence, an insult to my family!"
"You are a liar," Lindir practically growled.
"You dare to question my integrity, boy?" Loswan demanded. "I should show you the sharp side of my belt."
"You have no influence over me anymore," Lindir informed him. "I am renouncing your family name."
"And where will you go from here, little Lindir?" Loswan questioned mockingly. "Who would want anything to do with a nameless, homeless, pathetic minstrel?"
"Glorfindel has adopted me as his heir," Lindir said bluntly. "For all my life he has stood in your place and provided for me after mother died."
"Glorfindel? The great Glorfindel took an interest in you?" Loswan laughed as if the idea was completely unbelievable. "Did you poison his tea?"
"No," Lindir replied through gritted teeth, as Loswan continued to laugh loudly. "He loves me and he loved my mother, unlike you ever did."
Loswan stopped laughing. "What did you say?" He didn't wait for Lindir to answer. Questions that had remained unanswered for thousands of years finally were answered. Ancalë's mysterious lover from Gondolin was… Glorfindel. It made so much sense that Loswan was shocked he hadn't figured it out before. Why hadn't his son inherited his dark complexion? Because his slut wife had conceived with Glorfindel! And now, Glorfindel was trying to capture the elfling that bore Loswan's name.
"Glorfindel was Ancalë's lover," Loswan said, mostly to himself. The words stung his tongue like acid. It was the last straw. "You traitor!" he snarled, glaring at Lindir with murderous eyes. "You go behind my back, just like your conniving mother! I should kill you for your trespasses!" In a single motion, so quick that Lindir would have been unable to duck if he had been able to move at all, shocked as he was at Loswan's insane accusations, Loswan drew his sword and advanced on his son. Lindir stood rooted to the ground as the elf who was his father by blood if not by acts, charged towards him, an uncontrollable rage dictating his actions.
Loswan's first blow missed its mark, deflected by a long dagger. Loswan, blinded by the red haze that covered his eyes, saw only blond hair. He renewed his attack, striking as hard as he could at the slender figure before him.
"Lindir, get out of the way!" Rúmil yelled, grunting under the force of the sword as it connected with his dagger. Lindir could only watch in horror as his father and best friend dueled before him. Rúmil danced in and out of Loswan's swings, trying to keep himself out of harm's way while not letting Loswan's attention return to Lindir. Too many times the edge of the sword came too close to his head or chest. Rúmil was at a severe disadvantage. He would never be able to get close enough to Loswan to disarm him without being skewered in the process.
Lindir finally came to his senses and jumped up, determined to help his friend. He would try to bowl Loswan over, giving Rúmil the upper hand.
"No! Stay back!" Rúmil shouted when he saw Lindir move too close. The distraction cost him. In a single move Loswan sliced the top of Rúmil's wrist, causing the younger elf to lose his grip on the dagger. The small weapon flew from his hand, imbedding itself in the ground a few feet away. Loswan followed the move by slamming the elbow of his sword arm into Rúmil's face, knocking the blond to the ground.
"If only your pitiful mother could see you now!" Loswan shouted as he raised his sword for the fatal blow.
"NO!" Lindir screamed as Loswan brought the sword down. Rúmil threw his arms up over his face, knowing that there was no way he could prevent the insane elf from slaying him. He tensed for the strike that would first sever his arms, and then his neck. He only hoped that Lindir would escape from harm and perhaps write a nice song in his memory.
The strike never came.
Sparks rained down over him as the clash of metal grated his ears, too close for comfort. He lowered his arms and tried to see who had come to his timely rescue, but he was left sightless as the warrior's gray cloak fell over his face. The newcomer stood, one foot on either side of Rúmil, forcing Loswan back.
Rúmil recognized him immediately and he never thought he'd be so happy to see that certain elf in his immortal life. His relief was short lived, for just then Loswan stepped on his ankle while trying to backpedal from the new offensive. He heard it crack more than he felt it. Feeling didn't take long to catch up and Rúmil bit his lip to keep from crying out. He couldn't have Lindir thinking he was a wimp, could he? He was so focused on the pain that he didn't even hear the thump of Loswan falling, having tripped on his foot, and being disarmed.
"How dare you attack a fellow Galadhrim under the bows of our protected city?" Haldir spat, pointing both his sword and Loswan's at the fallen warrior.
"W-warden?" Loswan stammered, glancing behind his commanding officer to see the elf he had almost slain. He paled when he saw it was Rúmil who Haldir was guarding, not Lindir.
"Explain yourself!" Haldir barked. Even Rúmil was surprised by the tone of his brother's voice. Haldir looked huge and menacing, like the head of Middle-earth's most revered army, and not an older brother who was prone to falling for pranks every now and again. Rúmil suddenly had a new respect for Haldir, and was proud to share blood with him.
"Are you hale?" Lindir whispered, dropping down next to Rúmil's head.
"Besides being attacked by a homicidal elf and having my ankle broken, it hasn't been that bad of a day," Rúmil smirked, trying to hide his grimace of pain.
"How can you joke at a time like this? My father tried to kill you!" Lindir cried. Hot tears started down his face as the gravity of what had just transpired started to sink in.
"Please don't cry," Rúmil begged, grasping Lindir's hand with his uninjured arm. "You'll make me cry and that won't help people see me as the world's greatest warrior."
"I'm sorry," Lindir sniffled, trying valiantly to calm down. "It's just…"
"No, I don't want to hear it. You're not sorry for anything, Lin. Just listen to Haldir giving Loswan the talk down of the millennium."
"You are forthwith relieved of your duty to the land of Lothlórien," Haldir told the dark-haired warrior. "Consider yourself dishonorably discharged and banished from the Golden Wood."
"You can't do this to me!" Loswan protested. "It's not my fault."
"You were clearly out of control. I will hear no further arguments. You will stand before the Lord and Lady at dusk tonight. Now get out of my sight," Haldir ordered darkly. Loswan wisely turned tail and fled.
Haldir sheathed his sword and threw Loswan's to the ground before kneeling on the other side of Rúmil from Lindir. "Are you hurt?" he questioned calmly. At Rúmil's mystified expression, Haldir asked confusedly, "What?"
"You really do care about me," Rúmil said in wonder. Haldir let out a short laugh.
"Just a little," he replied, holding his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. "Now be serious. Where are you injured?"
"My ankle."
"And his wrist," Lindir added helpfully. Rúmil glared at him.
Haldir checked him over quickly. The ankle was definitely broken, but the cut to his wrist would heal quickly as it wasn't that deep. "Will you collect Loswan's sword and Rúmil's knife?" Haldir requested of Lindir as he slid his arms under Rúmil's knees and back to lift him up. Lindir nodded and quickly moved to collect the weapons as Rúmil protested his current position.
"You are not going to carry me all the way across Caras Galadhon to the infirmary!"
"Consider it revenge for the trick you played on me last week," Haldir answered, smirking at his younger brother's mortification at being toted around like an elfling.
"This goes beyond simple revenge," Rúmil insisted.
"I could make you crawl back," Haldir pointed out. Rúmil scowled.
"Fine, carry me. I hope it makes you happy. I won't make it enjoyable for you."
Haldir didn't care if Rúmil protested the infraction on his dignity at the top of his lungs all the way back to the healers. For a heart stopping moment, after identifying the two combatants, Haldir had feared he wouldn't make it across the clearing in time, and he'd never hear his brother's annoying voice ever again. Just the thought still made shivers run down his spine.
It didn't come as a surprise to anyone, save Loswan, that Celeborn and Galadriel agreed with Haldir's banishment of the mad elf. Loswan was ordered to collect whatever belongings he could carry with him and depart immediately from the borders of Lothlórien. Haldir would personally ensure that Loswan left.
He was granted one last request. In a desperate attempt at revenge, Loswan challenged Glorfindel to a duel, and the prize was Lindir. Loswan didn't truly want guardianship of Lindir, and should he win, he'd deal with the minstrel later. However, what he wanted even less was for Glorfindel to adopt Lindir. Loswan would not let the legendary warrior steal both his wife and his son.
Lindir couldn't believe his ears when he heard about the challenge, and that Celeborn was going to allow it to take place! Did he not have a say in his own future? Who was the Lord of 'Lorien, an elf Lindir had only met on a handful of occasions, to decide his fate?
He would not stand for it. At the first opportunity, Lindir gained an audience with Lord Celeborn.
"How can you condone this?" Lindir questioned, using all of his self-control to stand still and not rant at the silver-haired elf. "Does what I want not matter?"
"Lindir, do be still child," Celeborn admonished, standing from his seat. He crossed the room to stand before Lindir, placing a hand on the minstrel's shoulder. Lindir bit his tongue to keep from snapping at the older elf. "Had I any doubt that Glorfindel would win, I would not have allowed Loswan to make his challenge." Lindir calmed slightly at this. Celeborn could feel the tension leaving the younger elf and smiled fondly.
"Did you also not know that no matter the outcome of the duel, it changes nothing? Loswan gave up his rights to you when he did not seek you after the Last Alliance. Glorfindel has sworn to provide for you; all that is his is now yours. Did you think the ceremony in Imladris was just for show?"
"No," Lindir mumbled, feeling foolish. Of course Loswan had no say. Lord Elrond was not one for wasting time on meaningless ceremonies. Glorfindel could not revoke his vow during this life or the next.
"This duel is nothing but a chance for Loswan to try to redeem some of his dignity and for Glorfindel to put him in his place for good. I will personally see to it that Loswan is never left alone with you again," Celeborn promised.
"Thank you, my lord," Lindir replied, forcing himself to meet the older elf's eyes. Celeborn's smile brightened.
"You are welcome, Glorfindelion. Now, I hear Rúmil is terrorizing the healers. Perhaps you could go and give them a hand?"
"Of course," Lindir laughed. "By your leave?"
Celeborn nodded. The Imladris minstrel parted quickly and Celeborn watched him go until the towering trees blocked his vision. With a tired sigh, he turned back to his seat and sat down heavily. Old memories flitted through his mind.
By the time Loswan had arrived in the region now know as Lothlórien, he had already become paranoid about his wife's supposed infidelities. Over the years he grew progressively worse. He began picking fights with the soldiers who had come to aid his little village of Tauno-Osto. When he did return home, he was violent towards Ancalë. He despised the child that she bore him, insisting that the babe was illegitimate.
Celeborn tried to interfere with the unhappy couple by sending Loswan out on long patrols and letting him have only brief respites in Tauno-Osto. He warned Ancalë to hide the child away when Loswan was home. For all his efforts, Loswan only continued to grow more paranoid and more susceptible to uncontrolled rages. Celeborn feared the elf would have to be restrained, or sent to Valinor where the Valar could ease his disturbed mind. He had never seen jealousy so completely destroy an elf before, save for those affected by the Silmarils.
Celeborn had been in Tauno-Osto immediately after the attack that had destroyed the village. He led the soldiers who came to search for survivors among the debris. He hadn't allowed Loswan to come in fear that the failure to protect his home would further derange the unstable elf.
It was Celeborn who made one of the hardest decisions of his life, separating father and son eternally. He told Virë to take little Lindir to Imladris where the trusted Lord Elrond would provide for them until Virë decided to sail West. He returned to his troops and informed Loswan of his wife's death, letting the other assume the child was dead as well. He had thought it for the best. Perhaps then Loswan could find some peace.
Whatever peace the elf had found was now shattered. His rage had resurfaced and expanded, making him volatile and dangerous, attacking whoever crossed his path. Celeborn knew that Glorfindel could defend himself and even Rúmil, in a fair fight, would have come out on top, but where Lindir was concerned, Celeborn feared he had only let the pot simmer to a boil instead of dousing it with ice. He regretted hiding Lindir from Loswan like he had.
"You berate yourself," the calm voice of Galadriel spoke from beside him. Celeborn hadn't even noticed her entrance.
"Had I but corrected Loswan's assumption that Lindir was dead, none of this would have come to pass," the elf-lord spoke.
"Would that you went back to that terrible day and told Loswan of Lindir. How do you know what would have come to pass?"
"You think Loswan capable of slaying his own son?"
"After yesterday, I am positive," Galadriel said sadly. She placed her hand on Celeborn's shoulder and he placed his hand atop hers. Celeborn pitied the mad elf, simply because no one else did.
"The first elf to disarm his opponent will be the winner," Celeborn announced, making eye contact with Glorfindel and Loswan each in turn. Glorfindel nodded in understanding and Loswan glared back evenly at his lord.
"Each of you is allowed the use of your long sword and no other weapon," Haldir continued, stepping up to the two elves. He would act as referee during the duel. Celeborn and Galadriel were there as witnesses and sat upon a low bench beneath a willow. Reclining next to them were Rúmil and Lindir, along with two other guards who were to make sure one of the combatants did not lose control of himself. Haldir trusted Glorfindel; he did not trust Loswan.
Loswan shifted anxiously, feeling the reassuring press of hidden metal against the outside of his calf. He would not lose this fight. He felt his lady's gaze rest upon him and he looked away. She did not comment.
"I cannot bear to watch this," Lindir whispered to Rúmil. "I feel like some half-witted elleth who has attracted the attention of two suitors and now they fight over her."
"I can see the resemblance," Rúmil muttered absently, his attention focused on the proceedings before him. The duel had begun and now the two warriors circled each other cautiously.
Lindir huffed in annoyance. He turned to watch the fight as well. He did not think Glorfindel could lose, but he didn't want Glorfindel to suffer even a scratch on his account. Had he known this trip would end as such, he would have ignored his worries and remained quietly in Imladris, happy with what he had.
Loswan mocked Glorfindel. He taunted him for falling for the wiles of a conniving minstrel. He degraded him for loving an elleth who didn't love him enough to bond with him. He rained insulting words down upon Glorfindel's head but the balrog-slayer never wavered or flinched. Loswan grew visibly agitated when his words didn't have the desired effect. He took the offensive.
Glorfindel had no trouble deflecting the erratic blows. He idly thought to himself, here is one thing father and son have in common; they are both crappy swordsmen. However, Loswan had a lot of experience being a crappy swordsman and he managed to slip inside Glorfindel's defensive. Refocusing on the duel, Glorfindel shoved Loswan away and adjusted his grip on his sword.
"When I defeat you, oh houseless lord," Loswan seethed, trying a new tactic. He knew he had to distract Glorfindel or he would not be able to gain the upper hand. "I will spare you from facing reincarnation for a second time. Instead, you can watch as I reclaim my authority over Ancalë's bastard son."
"You are so confident, Loswan. Do not count your pebbles too soon."
"I shall cash in my pebbles ere your beaten body strikes the earth," Loswan hissed, swinging his sword hard towards Glorfindel's side. "See how Lindir fears for you. See how he doubts that you will be able to conquer me. See how he fears what I will do to him once I am done with you."
Glorfindel glanced over at Lindir, meeting the minstrel's hazel gaze. Yes, Lindir was frightened for the outcome of the duel; however, the stronger emotion in his stare was trust and faith that Glorfindel could prevail over any challenge. Glorfindel knew his own limits and he was surely not invincible, but Lindir believed he was and that made all the difference to Glorfindel.
Loswan growled at the exchange that passed silently between the two fair-haired elves. He lunged forward, dropping to one knee as he thrust upward. Glorfindel leapt backward to dodge the blow, arcing his sword in a counter stroke. As Loswan stood he slid the hidden dagger from his boot in a fluid motion that would have disguised the knife along its entire journey to Glorfindel's chest had the legendary warrior not known of its existence.
Galadriel wasn't restrained to verbal communication.
Glorfindel caught Loswan's wrist with his free hand and squeezed, grinding the small bones together. Loswan grunted in pain, losing his grip on the illegal weapon. Glorfindel used his hold on the other elf to jerk Loswan towards the ground, upsetting his balance. Flailing, Loswan was unable to swing at Glorfindel before the balrog-slayer kicked the sword out of his hand, clear of the fight.
Lindir let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when he realized that Glorfindel had won. He jumped up and hurried towards the two struggling elves, reaching Glorfindel's side just as he subdued Loswan.
"Glorfindel wins the duel," Haldir announced, kicking Loswan's dagger away. "Prepare to depart, Loswan."
"No! I cannot lose! You will not take my wife from me!" Loswan raged as the two guards moved to take over for Glorfindel. "You cannot have Ancalë!"
"I did not come for Ancalë," Glorfindel spat, rising to his feet. "I came for Lindir, who always has been, and always will be, my son."
As he was dragged away by the two guards, Loswan could do nothing but watch Glorfindel wrap Lindir in a crushing hug, victorious again. Oh how he hated that elf from Gondolin.
"All right my fair lady," Rúmil called, waving at Lindir. "Your knight in shining armor has won, now come help me up."
"I am not a 'fair lady,'" Lindir retorted.
"Fine," Rúmil huffed, rolling his eyes. "My not-very-fair-and-actually-rather-ugly lady, come help me up."
"I think we should just leave you there," Glorfindel spoke up. "I rather like you not being able to walk."
"Oh yeah?" Rúmil grinned, a mischievous glint entering his eyes. "Just watch me." He grabbed the edge of the bench where Celeborn and Galadriel had been seated and prepared to lift himself up.
"Sit!" Haldir and Celeborn ordered in unison. Rúmil plopped back down to the ground obediently.
Lindir's joy at Glorfindel's victory was short-lived. He stood at the base of the largest tree in the forest, the one that housed Celeborn and Galadriel's public rooms, watching woefully as Haldir brushed down his horse while waiting for Loswan and the other soldiers to arrive. That night, Loswan's sentence was to be carried out. He would be escorted by a few of Lothlórien's most skilled warriors, all the way to the shores of Mithlond where Círdan would ensure he boarded a ship to Valinor. Haldir would only be accompanying them to the borders of Lothlórien, as he had too many responsibilities in the Golden Wood to leave behind.
"Why are you upset now?" Rúmil asked in exasperation. Lindir glanced over at his friend, who stood slightly hunched over, a pair of crutches the only things holding him upright.
"I never meant for this to happen," Lindir replied. "I just wanted to officially tell him that Glorfindel had adopted me and be done with it. I didn't want to get him kicked out of his home."
"He got himself kicked out," Rúmil reminded him, glancing down at his thickly bandaged ankle.
"But if it weren't for me, he wouldn't have tried to attack you," Lindir insisted.
"Listen, Lin. Loswan has always been somewhat… off. I think Lord Celeborn realized that, even when Loswan first came here. His banishment has been a long time in the coming."
"He's right," spoke a new voice. Both blonds looked up to see Orophin, still dressed in his uniform and carrying his longbow, standing a few feet in front of them.
"You're back early," Rúmil grinned.
"Actually, I'm not," Orophin replied impatiently. "Don't you even read the schedules?"
"Yes," Rúmil replied with narrowed eyes.
"Stop fighting," Haldir snapped, never looking up from his self-appointed task. "Welcome back, Orophin. You can report to Wenion, later."
"Will do," Orophin replied. "I wanted to say my own good-byes to Loswan."
"I've already taken care of it," Haldir denied him. "Go get cleaned up. I can smell you from over here."
Orophin turned to face his older brother, a look of consternation coming over his face. "I can say something if I want to…"
"Now who's the witless elleth in distress?" Lindir whispered to his friend.
"It's not the same," Rúmil insisted. "They're my brothers."
"If you say so."
"I do."
Lindir was prevented from retorting and Rúmil's brothers' argument was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the escort and Loswan, from whose face the dark cloud of madness had yet to leave. "I'm going to say something to him," Lindir decided.
"Why? Do you enjoy torturing yourself, Lin?"
"No," Lindir frowned. "I'm never going to see him again. I can't just say nothing!"
"Of course you can," Rúmil countered. "It's quite easy. Just keep your mouth shut."
"If it's so easy, then why can't you ever keep your mouth shut?" Lindir joked.
"It's not that I can't. I just don't want to. And, for the record, I don't talk to homicidal elves."
"Why, are you afraid?"
"No, I'm sane."
"Wimp."
"I'm going to hit you with this crutch," Rúmil threatened.
"Then you'll fall over," Lindir pointed out.
"No, I won't. Fortunately, in two thousand years, I've mastered something called balance."
"I'll push you over."
"You wouldn't dare. Imagine, sweet little Lindir, pushing over injured elves. What will the twins think?"
"They'd probably laugh." The two long-time friends eyed each other distrustfully until Lindir noticed that the guards and his father had mounted their horses and were preparing to depart. They were only waiting for Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel, and Glorfindel to arrive to see them off. Rúmil didn't say anything as Lindir hurried away from him, heading directly towards the tall horse that bore his father. You play with fire, you're going to get burned, he thought morosely to himself as he watched Lindir from a safe distance.
Lindir approached the tall war-horse cautiously, his false bravado leaving him now that he was away from the protective presence of his friend. The words that he had wanted to say to the dark-haired elf who had sired him fled from his mind and no matter how hard he tried, he could not recapture them.
"Get away from me," Loswan sneered when he noticed the younger elf's approach.
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry that this had to end like this," Lindir replied evenly.
"I have been cursed since the day I married your unfaithful mother," Loswan spat. "You are nothing but a plague to me… a slimy leech who just won't go away." Lindir held his ground, hazel eyes narrowing as he listened to the bitter words. Loswan, seeing that the younger elf wasn't going to run back to the protection of his friend or Glorfindel, decided to continue. "What makes it even worse, you're just a minstrel. A weak, untalented, good-for-nothing drain on the resources of Arda. How have I so wronged the Valar that they would have me be plagued by one so unworthy?"
The lord and lady of the Golden Wood arrived then, accompanied by Glorfindel. The warriors of Lothlórien shifted on their horses' backs, preparing for their long journey to the sea and back. Lindir, sensing that his time was running short, forced himself to look into the simmering eyes of his sire one last time.
"I forgive you for what you've done to my mother and me," Lindir informed him. When he'd thought the words, Lindir had meant them only as one last barb at the mad elf, but in saying them, he found that he truly meant them. He realized that his life was better for all that Loswan had done. Lindir knew the love of an extended family; he was comfortable and happy with his life. He doubted that Loswan could have provided that sort of life for his small family, even if he'd wanted to.
"I don't want your forgiveness," Loswan hissed and kicked his horse, propelling the animal forward and away from his son. Lindir shrugged and turned to face the rest of his life. Glorfindel was watching him guardedly, still standing at Celeborn's left side. Lindir offered him a shy smile and Glorfindel returned it with a more radiant grin.
"You are to avoid the borders of Imladris and any other settlements along the way," Celeborn was instructing his warriors. "Upon reaching Mithlond, your duty is to see that Loswan is comfortably boarded on a ship to Valinor. Once that is done, you may return in your own time."
His unspoken words brought a small bit of melancholy to the group of elves. Celeborn acknowledged that once his warriors stood on the shore of the sea, they may never wish to return to the Golden Wood. It was just one more sacrifice he was forced to make in his long life. At least this time, he would lose the elves to peace and eternal bliss, and not to the uncertainty of Mandos' Halls.
"We leave now," Haldir commanded, clucking his tongue to encourage his horse to move forward. The small party gradually left the clearing, Lindir's view of Loswan blocked by the soldiers who surrounded the dark-haired elf.
"Are you going to cry now?" Rúmil asked, having laboriously made his way to Lindir's side.
"No," Lindir scowled, but his expression lightened when he realized Rúmil was joking with him. "I actually feel rather good right now."
"I'm glad to hear it," Glorfindel spoke once he reached Lindir's side. He wrapped one arm around Lindir's shoulders and the minstrel leaned into him happily.
"I hope he finds peace in the West."
"It is a peaceful place," Glorfindel assured him.
"Then how come you were so eager to leave?" Rúmil questioned.
"I wasn't," the balrog-slayer huffed. "I am being punished for some unknown offense by being forced to deal with Elrond and his brats for eternity. Fortunately, I have someone to keep me sane." He squeezed Lindir's shoulders and the minstrel beamed.
"Did you just call my precious grandsons 'brats'," Lady Galadriel questioned, her knowing blue eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Only in the most adoring manner," Glorfindel answered suavely.
"Be sure that you keep it that way." She reached out for her husband's hand, drawing Celeborn into the small group. "Dinner will be served within the hour. We hope you will join us."
"Of course, my lady," Glorfindel accepted the invitation. Once they had parted, Glorfindel led Lindir back to their borrowed talan so they could prepare for their own journey home, while Orophin dragged Rúmil back to the healers.
The journey back to Imladris was an uneventful as the one away from the valley. It was late and many of the elves had already retired for the day, leaving the valley calm and quiet. Lindir drew in a deep breath. He was home, and he never planned on leaving again, until the day he sailed to Valinor with Glorfindel.
"Happy?" Glorfindel questioned.
"I am," Lindir replied. "Thank you again for going with me."
"Of course, child."
The peacefulness of the valley was shattered as voices rent through the air, heralding the return of the commander of the guard and the minstrel. Glorfindel and Lindir exchanged knowing looks.
"You're back!" Elladan exclaimed, bounding up to Glorfindel's side. "Did you see any orcs?"
"Thousands," Glorfindel laughed, dismounting from his horse and catching the half-elf in a one-armed hug. "Where is your father?"
"He's coming," Elrohir answered for his brother. "Did you see Grandmother and Grandfather?"
"No, we managed to stay an entire week and a half in the Golden Wood without them noticing us," Glorfindel answered. Elrohir scowled at him.
"That's not what he meant," Elladan sighed, eyeing the saddle-bags on either horse curiously. "Did they send us anything?"
"What are you, elflings?" Lindir grinned, dismounting as well and retrieving two small parcels from his leather bags.
"No," Elrohir replied, reaching for one of the parcels. Lindir hid them behind his back. Knowing a challenge when he saw one, Elrohir grinned and advanced.
"I don't think so," Glorfindel interceded, catching Elrohir by the collar of his tunic. "Lindir, stop teasing them and give them their presents so they can stop acting like children."
"We're not children," Elladan insisted, maneuvering around the balrog-slayer and his captive brother. Before Lindir could comprehend what was happening, the older twin had relieved him of his burden. The minstrel shook his head. He still had trouble believing that Elrond's sons were adults.
"Oh, this isn't exciting," Elrohir complained, holding up the jeweled pin so the moonlight could dance across its surface. It was a beautiful piece but the twins had been expecting something more exciting, like weapons.
"Hush you," Glorfindel chided.
"It's jewelry," Elladan deadpanned.
"You two are horrible. Where is your father?"
"Right here," Elrond spoke as he crossed the cobbled surface of the courtyard. Celebrían walked beside him and Erestor was a few paces behind. "Welcome home."
"Look Nana," Elrohir sighed, handing his mother the pin.
"That's beautiful, sweetheart," Celebrían replied. "Was it a gift from your grandparents?"
"Yes."
"And what would you do if you had been given another dagger? You can't possibly use every single one you own already."
"That's not the point, Nana," Elladan argued. "It's jewelry."
"I think it's beautiful jewelry," Celebrían countered.
"Well, you're a girl," Elladan pointed out. Celebrían laughed, the sound lifting the hearts of all who could hear her. Glorfindel decided that perhaps it wasn't all Elrond's fault that his boys were such terrors. Their mother let them get away with close to murder sometimes.
The twins were distracted as Celebrían dared to press a kiss to her older son's cheek and Elrond was bringing Glorfindel up to date on the state of Imladris. Erestor approached Lindir, who was watching the scene before him with a contented smile. "I take it that all went well?" the advisor asked, placing his hand on Lindir's shoulder.
"It did," Lindir replied. "I'm very glad to be home."
"Good," Erestor smiled. "Glorfindelion. It sounds like a weed."
"It's a flower," Lindir insisted.
"A flowering weed," Erestor amended. Lindir couldn't argue with that and simply laughed.
"A note for you," the messenger said shortly, holding out the folded parchment to the dark-haired elf. As soon as the paper was taken from him, the messenger turned and darted away, his sack bursting with more notes to be delivered.
Loswan eyed the note suspiciously. He had only been in Valinor for few days and was barely settled into his small home. He definitely hadn't made any friends with the neighbors yet, nor did he truly intend to.
After a long minute, he broke the seal and flipped open the note. Only three words were scrawled carefully across the page in black ink.
Welcome
home.
Ancalë
He smiled.
THE END -Please review!