Bells of Silver
Author: TreeHugger  
AnakinS@aol.com 
PG-13 - Romance 
 

Disclaimer - I don't own them, they belong to Master Tolkien. (Except the ones 
you have never heard of before) I make no money from them or from anything else.

This one is being written as a birthday present for Artanis. She wanted a sweet, 
hot, romance, which is something I have not written before and wouldn't do for 
just anyone! Happy Birthday, Artanis! Many kisses from Glorfindel (which is what 
you really want!)!!

Author's Note: Laerlend means "sweet summer" as she was born in the summer on 
Artanis' birthday!

Okay, I know that Elves do not force marriages of convenience on their children. 
So in that aspect and a few others this is obviously AU.



Bells Of Silver

Prologue

A gentle summer's breeze drifted across the garden stirring the carefully tended 
flowers and filling the air with their delicate scent. Small bright butterflies 
and fat bees floated among the blossoms, delicate wings glimmering in the shafts 
of sunlight that fell through the interlaced branches overhead. Eryn Lasgalen, 
formerly known as Mirkwood, was no longer the spider and Orc infested forest 
that it had been in former times. In this the Fourth Age it was a place of great 
beauty and peace. And on this day its people were preparing for a celebration.

Garlands of roses and ivy had been strung in the trees; silver lanterns were 
hung in the branches; tall, slender oaken poles carved with twining vines and 
flowers lined the pathway of white stone that the bride and groom would soon 
tread. Fair Elvish voices were raised in song or laughter as they decorated long 
tables with snowy embroidered cloths and filled delicate fluted vases of silver 
with colorful blooms. Musicians and singers sat in small knots, tuning their 
harps and lutes, playing low melodies on wooden flutes, and sweet voices rose in 
happy songs.

Not far away a pair of bright hazel eyes watched the activities with an air of 
vexation and apprehension. Laerlend released the branch she had pulled back to 
peer into the clearing and stepped quietly away. The flash of silver on the 
index finger of her right hand caught her attention. She glared at the symbol of 
her betrothal, the silver so clear and bright. Her heart was fluttering in her 
chest like a caged bird; and anger raged through her. To most such a ring 
represented the union of two lives through love, but to her it was a symbol of 
her life being ensnared by another: a loss of her freedom and who she truly was. 
She hurried on swift feet away from the merry occupation of her friends and 
their lighthearted revelry.

"This cannot be happening!" She murmured as she hastened down a forest path, 
heedless of the silvery beech trees that gleamed in the sunlight. The day was 
beautiful and bright, but she was only aware of the pain and fear in her heart. 
She moved off the path and into the trees, allowing her feet to carry her deeper 
into the woods.

In a few hours time she would be married and her life would no longer be her 
own. Most maidens looked upon their wedding day with great happiness and nervous 
anticipation. But not Laerlend. Hers was a marriage of convenience, not love. 
And as the daughter of a king this sort of marriage was perhaps to be expected. 
But she had always hoped to pledge her life to someone she loved or at least 
cared for. As Arwen had. But such was not her fate. She would be wed this night 
to someone she barely knew, someone she had met for the first time at their 
betrothal a year ago and seen very little of since. He had arrived in Mirkwood a 
few weeks before to become better acquainted with her before their marriage took 
place. She would marry him. It was her duty. A word she was beginning to hate.

She sighed heavily. Above her the birds sang in the treetops, so joyful and 
totally oblivious of her pain. She had come to what she considered her special 
place: a small secluded grove surrounded by slender flowering trees, their 
drooping branches dripping with pale green leaves and pink blossoms. A small 
clear pool of water rested in the center of it, fed by an underground stream. 
She dropped to the fragrant emerald grass beside it and sighed again.

She stared at her reflection in the water, the sun falling through the trees at 
her back making her blonde hair shine like a halo about her fair face. Her brows 
knit and she ran her fingertips through the cool water, scattering the image 
into fractured ripples, shattered like her life.

And yet..

She reached up into her hair and drew out a small spray of silver blossoms known 
as Celebnellath: Silverbells. She twirled the stem in her fingers, breathing in 
its sweet fragrance. She gazed at the delicate silvery-blue petals, the slender 
lavender tendrils fluttering in the blossoms' center. Though her eyes were on 
the flowers, she had ceased to see it. Instead she saw the face of the one who 
had given it to her this morning and placed it lovingly in her hair. It was a 
fair, masculine face framed by long golden hair. His eyes were as blue as the 
summer sky above. And when he spoke to her, not as an Elder would to a child, 
but as an equal.

Something fluttered inside her, an unknown feeling never felt before. It was an 
odd feeling, yet strangely pleasant. A smile played across her full pink lips, 
her eyes softening.

"Glorfindel." She whispered with uncertainty, and her heart raced.

But then she frowned, her eyes caught by the silver once more.

"No." She stated firmly. "I do not love him."

She stood and dropped the flowers into the water. She felt a twinge of regret as 
they swirled slightly in the ripples. But she turned resolutely away and strode 
out of the grove, her head held high, eyes hard.

"I do not love him." She repeated beginning to run, fleeing the confusing, 
conflicting emotions that assailed her.

A tall figure emerged from the trees that ringed in Laerlend's grove. He had 
watched the Elf maiden as she sat by the water in silence gazing at the flowers. 
He had felt a thrill of hope when she had raised it to her lips, her glorious 
eyes so tender. He sighed and moved to the pool, kneeling to retrieve the wet 
blossoms. A ring of silver matching Laerlend's circled his own strong finger.

:I knew this was a mistake: he thought sadly. :I did not think I would need to 
guard my heart so closely:

He raised the flowers to his lips and closed his eyes.

"Ah, Laerlend. You have stolen my heart away. And yet yours remains untouched by 
anything that I do. What can I do to win you?" He sighed once again and opened 
his eyes. "I have waited my entire life to find you and you only flee from me. 
What am I to do?"

He lowered himself gracefully to the ground and stared out across the water. One 
year ago they had met for the first time. It had not been love at first sight 
for him. It wasn't supposed to be love at all. He smiled wryly, recalling the 
day he arrived in Eryn Lasgalen to meet his bride. 

  
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Books » Lord of the Rings » Bells of Silver text size: (+) : (-) 
 
Author: TreeHugger 1. Default Chapter2. Chapter 1 - The Gift3. Chapter 2 - To 
Sing a Song of Goldilocks4. Chapter 3 - A Song on the Air5. Chapter 4 - Amidst 
the Twining Branches6. Chapter 5 - The Comfort of Friends7. Chapter 6 
Anticipation8. Chapter 7 When At Last We Meet9. Chapter 8 Time for Tea10. 
Chapter 9 Songs Beneath the Spreading Branches11. Chapter 10 A Love Song If You 
Please, Lord Goldilocks! 
 
PG-13 - English - Romance - Reviews: 256 - Publish date: 07-14-02 - Updated: 
01-17-03  story id: 846717 
 

Author's Note - Please, please, please reread the Prologue!! (Unless you 
remember the silver rings then you have read the new prologue!) I am begging you 
as I have changed some rather important things in it! For that I apologize. I am 
in Good - Writer - Doing- Research mode now and am rectifying a few things! As 
the prologue was indeed short it shouldn't take you long to peruse it once 
again. Again my most heartfelt apologies, but this story will be better for my 
changes!

Thoughts in : :

Chapter 1 - The Gift



Small golden bells chimed merrily as the seven horses trotted down the beaten 
path that ran through the northern part of the forest. Great oaks and silvery 
beech trees lined their way, shafts of sunlight danced through the interlacing 
branches. Butterflies darted in the stands of wild daisies and celandine; the 
air was alive with birdsong and the droning of bees. Deeper in the forest pale 
mushrooms rose amidst the dark glistening ferns. No longer was this place called 
Taur-e-Ndaedelos, the Forest of Great Fear; nor Taur-nu-Fuin, the Forest Under 
Night. Mirkwood had indeed become Eryn Lasgalen, the Wood of Greenleaves.

The Elves had ridden in silence for a time, admiring the beauty about them, a 
beauty quite different from their home in Imladris. It was even different from 
Lorien. Each of the Elven realms held diverse beauties, each reflecting the 
hearts of the Elves that inhabited them. It was the sense of pervading peace 
that made them truly akin to one another.

Elrond, Lord of Imladris, rode at the head of the procession. His long dark hair 
spilled down the back of his maroon riding tunic, held in place by a silver 
circlet. The light grey-green traveling cloaks they had worn were packed away as 
the sun rose high in the summer sky. Elrond's dark blue eyes surveyed his 
surroundings with pleasure. A great work had been done here during and after the 
War of the Ring.

After fending off assaults on Lorien by Sauron's minions from Dol Guldur, 
Celeborn and Galadriel crossed Anduin with their people and cleansed southern 
Mirkwood, long a stronghold of the Dark Lord. They chased and slaughtered his 
evil creatures and Galadriel tore down the walls of the vile fortress and 
cleansed the foul pits below it.

Thranduil had fought his own battles in the north. After much destruction and a 
great ruin of fire he managed to gain the victory for his own realm. On the 
Elven New Years Day Celeborn and Thranduil met in the midst of the forest, which 
would no longer be known as Mirkwood. The northern area of Eryn Lasgalen stayed 
Thranduil's realm, the mountains being his southern border. Celeborn took the 
southern region below the Narrows. Between the two Elven realms the land was 
given to the Beornings and the Woodsmen.

The path they traveled on now was once the road trod by Thorin and Company as 
they passed east on their way to the Erebor to reclaim what the Dragon Smaug had 
taken from them. But the path was much changed. No spider webs hemmed it in and 
sunlight sparkled along the ground. It was a pleasant ride to the realm of the 
Wood Elf king now.

Glorfindel sat straight in the saddle, his own blue riding tunic falling 
gracefully about him. His handsome face was peaceful, his blue eyes serenely 
fixed on the road ahead of him. He could feel the gazes of the twins on his back 
as they talked quietly to one another, speaking now of the hunting to be had 
here. They hoped to ride out with Prince Legolas and the Dwarf Gimli to explore 
the forest more fully after they arrived at Thranduil's palace. Though their 
words spoke of game and bows and adventures to be had, he knew they were 
wondering what he was thinking.

A slight smile touched his lips and he leaned forward to stroke Asfaloth's snowy 
neck. The twins fell silent and then the inevitable question came.

"Lord Glorfindel, why are you taking Princess Laerlend a bush?" Blue eyes moved 
to the packhorse that carried large baskets on either side of its flanks. One 
bore the things they needed for the trip: food, cookware, small bundles of 
kindling and water flasks; and their "fancy" clothes as the twins called the 
outfits they would all don for their arrival at Thranduil's palace. The other 
held only a small bush with silvery green leaves, small sprays of delicate 
silver-blue flowers dripping from the slender branches.

Glorfindel's dark gold brows rose. This was not what he had anticipated.

"I have told you the history of the bush, Elladan, have I not?"

Elladan suppressed a sigh and turned to his brother, who smiled and shrugged, 
his look clearly stating : You had to ask, didn't you. :

"Yes." And knowing that one simple word would not prove a sufficient answer he 
drew a breath, feeling that he was once again forced to recite history before an 
exacting audience. It was all he could do to resist pulling on his long ebony 
hair, as was his wont when giving an oration.

Curon and Tellenlagor, the last two members of the party, grinned at one 
another. They too had studied under the ancient Elf's tutelage.

"Celebnellath the Silver Bell bushes were grown in Gondolin, the Hidden City and 
none were more beautiful than those grown in the garden of Lady Idril, daughter 
of Turgon and Elenwe; wife of Tuor, son of Huor and Rian. The delicate scent of 
their flowers ever filled the summer air and their gentle chiming was as 
enchanting as birdsong."

Glorfindel smiled as Elrond turned to look at him with laughter dancing in his 
eyes. Then his gaze passed to his son.

"You should have become a bard, Elladan. You have quite a golden tongue," 
Imladris' lord said. "I am certain that a place could be gotten for you at any 
court you chose. I know that your sister and Estel would welcome you any time."

Elladan said nothing, merely rolling his eyes eloquently skyward as he 
continued.

"When the Lady Idril perceived that the doom of their fair city was drawing nigh 
she gathered seeds from her beloved Celebnellath and kept them always with her 
near to her heart, wishing to keep something of the beauty of her beloved city 
with her after its vanishing. 'Ere the first assault she could be seen in her 
garden, weeping silently, her slim fingers bidding them farewell."

Glorfindel's eyes grew distant. That was not a time that he often dwelt on, his 
first life in Arda. But now he found himself recalling the splendor that was 
Gondolin, his home. The music of its many falls and fountains sang in his ears 
and his vision filled with the white towers skillfully carved, so slender and 
delicate like trees themselves; the fair houses and courts filled with a 
profusion of flowers; the towering trees filled with the sound of birds; the 
wide, stone paved streets kerbed with marble. And rising amidst this 
magnificence was the king's palace, its tower rising above the rest of the city. 
Before its doors a great fountain shot sprays of water twenty fathoms and seven 
into the clear air, the glistening droplets cascading back into the water making 
a music all their own. Two trees flanked the doors of Turgon's palace, one 
bearing blossoms of gold and the other of silver. These trees' glory never faded 
for they were shoots of the Trees of Valinor: Laurelin the Golden and White 
Telperion. The Gondolindrim named their trees Glingol and Bansil. White birds 
inhabited the branches filling the air about the palace with the sweetest of 
songs.

But of all the glories of Gondolin, Glorfindel treasured the Celebnellath best. 
They reminded him of the Lady Idril: beautiful, graceful, and rare. She had been 
as glorious to behold as the dawn, or the night sky studded with stars. Her 
courage and bravery adorned her as a crown. She was called Idril Talceleb - 
Idril Silver Feet - as she went barefooted more oft than not and her long hair 
always hung freely about her, like a cloak of sunlight. Gracing the golden locks 
were her Silver Bells.

Glorfindel shook his head slightly, suddenly aware of the eyes fastened on him. 
How long he had been lost in his reverie he knew not.

"'Tis a fitting gift," he said after a moment. "A rare treasure of Gondolin 
given to my bride to be." The words felt strange on his tongue. He had never 
contemplated marriage before this, he was content with what his life was. His 
position in Imladris had not allowed for a visit to Eryn Lasgalen ere now, and 
to find himself about to be betrothed was rather disconcerting.. "It shows that 
I hold her in highest esteem." He finished quietly, his fingers twining absently 
in Asfaloth's mane.

Elrond studied his old friend, knowing well the misgivings he must harbor. It 
was an unusual thing to marry two that hadn't chosen one another in love. But by 
doing this the three Elven Realms of Middle Earth would be more truly united to 
one another. Lorien and Imladris had been joined by blood in the marriage of 
Celeborn and Galadriel's daughter Celebrian to Elrond. And now Thranduil's realm 
would be united to Imladris by the marriage of the Wood Elf King's daughter to 
Lord Glorfindel, second in power only to Elrond himself.

: Perhaps I should not have asked this of him. He has never refused me anything 
and mayhap I took advantage of that, : he thought, his dark brows knitting 
slightly. But then Glorfindel looked at him and smiled gently, reassuring 
Imladris' lord that all was well. Elrond smiled tightly and turned his attention 
back to the road. : He is trying to give me comfort in this. Just once I wish he 
would gainsay me on something. :

"You did very well, Elladan," Glorfindel said, studying the twining branches 
overhead. "I thought of asking you to give the seven names of Gondolin and name 
Seven Gates, but I thought better of it. I am your teacher no longer. The 
student has surpassed me."

Elladan grinned and looked at Elrohir who laughed slightly and slapped his 
brother on the arm.

"It appears you have passed the test, Elladan," he said.

"But you, Elrohir, have passed no test as it were." Glorfindel continued. "What 
are the seven names of Gondolin and the Seven Gates?"

Elrohir suppressed a groan and began to his own recitation.

-----------------------------------------------------------
Author's Notes

First if you want to know about the city of Gondolin, then you really should 
read "The Fall of Gondolin" which can be found in The Book of Lost Tales 2. It 
is a fascinating read. And if, like myself, you worship a certain golden Elf 
named Glorfindel, then you should definitely read it. But be warned - it is not 
a happy story. Much information that I am using came from this source.

Secondly, for the cleansing of Mirkwood in the Third Age read LOTR Appendix B. 
Woodsmen dwelt in northern Mirkwood prior to its cleansing.

Gondolindrim are the people of Gondolin.

Celebnellath are something that I made up.

And last, I am sorry this has taken me so long to update. Research takes a while 
and I have been busy with a group of spiders that won't leave me alone!

Special Huge Thanks to alliwantisanelfforchristmas otherwise known as Legolas, 
which is much easier to type, for beta reading this. She keeps my commas and 
colons in line for they are rather boisterous! (grin) She also gave me the 
chapter title!
-----------------------------------------------------------
 

Chapter 2 - To Sing a Song of Goldilocks

Thoughts in : :

"Lo! the flame of fire and fierce hatred engulfed Gondolin and its glory fell, 
its tapering towers and its tall rooftops were laid all low, and its leaping 
fountains made no music more on the mount of Gwareth, and its white hewn walls 
were whispering ash." *



Laerlend sighed as she listened to the singers' voices lifting so sweetly and 
sorrowfully on the air. The Lay of Gondolin told of the fall of that fair city 
hidden in the caldera of Echoriath and Amon Gwareth. It was an enthralling tale, 
one often told of late. One of great sorrow and loss, yet one of salvation and 
the mysterious will of Iluvatar. But in the remnant that fled the wreck and ruin 
of that great city was Tuor, Idril and their son Earendil who would bear the 
Silmaril from the Nauglamir on his brow and sail the skies forever - a sign of 
hope to all oppressed by evil.

"I am oppressed by evil," she murmured, then felt a flush of shame stain her 
cheeks. "Nay, not evil. But something not of my choosing," she amended, lying 
back against the cool grass and gazing at the star filled sky above her. She ran 
her fingers over the soft material of her pale green silk gown, feeling the 
stiff silver embroidery in the pattern of flowers and stars.



".There the narrow way of Cristhorn was clove, the Cleft of Eagles, through the 
midmost mountains. And more is told in lays and in legend and lore of others of 
that weary way of the wandering folk; how the waifs of Gondolin outwitted Melko, 
vanished o'er the vale and vanquished the hills, how Glorfindel the golden in 
the gap of the Eagles battled with the Balrog and both were slain: one like 
flash of fire from fanged rock, one like bolted thunder black was smitten to the 
dreadful deep digged by Thornsir." *



She felt many eyes fall upon her at this part: eyes filled with wonder, 
amusement, envy, and some with sympathy. For they all knew her feelings on this 
subject. Why else sing the old lays and legends so often if not to convince her 
of the folly of her thoughts? She knew what her father was doing by encouraging 
this singing and tale telling, but he was going about it in quite the wrong 
manner, which she had told him oft enough. She sighed wearily and closed her 
eyes.

"What troubles you now, tithen muinthel?" [little sister] a low voice asked, 
colored by merriment. "Does the music not agree with you?"

She opened her eyes to find Legolas staring down her, a smile playing over his 
fair features. He was adorned this night in a silken tunic of rich green, a 
silver belt glinting at his slender waist. She snorted and rolled onto her side 
away from him.

"You know well what troubles me, O Hero of the Fellowship," she said 
sarcastically, her fingers plucking at the small white star shaped flowers that 
nestled in the green of the grass.

He laughed lightly and dropped comfortably to the ground beside her.

"You are merely jealous," he rejoined. "Because I have seen him and you have 
not."

She ground her teeth together, but was determined that he would not get the best 
of her this day.

"That is not true. I care not what he looks like. I will not like him if he 
appears as mighty and glorious as Manwe himself. Or as fair as one of the 
Eldar."

Legolas laughed once more and yanked playfully on the loose strands of her fair 
hair.

"Glorfindel is one of the Eldar, silly," he said, lightly, seeing her fair cheek 
redden as she turned back to him.

"I care not," she stated haughtily, sitting up and swinging her head away from 
him. "You have never been made to marry, so why should I be made to do so?"

"Why don't you wish to marry?" He countered deftly. "I would think that most 
maidens at least think on the prospect favorably."

"I am not most maidens, brother, as you well know." There were many reasons she 
did not wish to marry, but she feared that saying them aloud would make them 
sound childish or trivial. "I just don't want to," she said stubbornly, twining 
a lock of fair hair about one slender finger. "I don't even know him, Legolas. 
This isn't fair. Why can't I choose whom I want to marry? Or.or run off and have 
adventures with a Dwarf as you have!"

"Run off with a Dwarf?" A gruff voice behind them growled. "A Dwarf, my lady? 
You could choose no better companion than that."

Laerlend turned to see Gimli approaching them, a smile appearing amidst the 
braided reddish hair on his face. The Dwarf was wearing rich clothing of leather 
dyed in a russet hue, embroidered with the geometric designs that his people 
favored. He bowed to her, eyes twinkling as he turned to Legolas.

"I thought to find you here with the prettiest maiden, and I see that I was 
right."

"Alas that she is my sister," Legolas sighed dramatically, holding his hand over 
his heart. "She is spoken for as well. Who am I to compete with Lord Glorfindel 
of Imladris? Will you join us, Gimli?"

"Or do you tire of hearing Lord Glorfindel's praises sung as I do," Laerlend 
interjected, shooting a scathing glance at her brother, who merely grinned at 
her in amusement and began to sing about the glories of the House of the Golden 
Flower in his pleasing musical voice.

"Come, Master Gimli," the Elven princess said, rising gracefully to her bare 
feet, turning her back on her brother. "I cannot bear to hear even one more word 
spoken this night about the Golden Glorfindel."

"Well," Gimli began, looking to where the small group of Elven singers was 
seated on a grassy knoll not far away, surrounded by an appreciative audience. 
He did indeed enjoy the sound of Elvish voices lifted in song or chants. But as 
the young maiden had said it was growing tiresome to hear the same songs sung 
day and night and it seemed that the only songs allowed in Thranduil's realm at 
present were songs of the glories of Glorfindel, Gondolin, and love. The Dwarf 
shrugged. "I will join you, lady, if you will permit me. Perhaps you can sing a 
song for me that has some other theme."

Laerlend laughed and held her hand out to him.

"Very well, but only if you will return the favor. I dare say the Dwarves have 
not written any songs about Goldilocks."

"Laerlend!" Legolas stood and shook his head, his blue eyes shining with 
exasperated amusement. "Lord Glorfindel does not deserve this sort of treatment 
from you. Truly sister, he may be suffering from the same feelings as you are. 
Perhaps he tires of hearing praises of you and your beauty touted day and night. 
Mayhap he is no happier with the prospect of joining with a stubborn, willful 
child of Thranduil's than you are of joining with the golden Goldilocks."

"I care not what he is feeling," Laerlend said, not allowing the taunt to touch 
her. She pulled on Gimli's hand pulling him behind her as she moved away from 
her brother and the singers. "I have no feelings for him whatever. Come, Gimli. 
Let us find an adventure this night."

The Dwarf looked back at his companion of many years and adventures who smiled 
and trotted after them. Legolas snatched a handful of his sister's hair 
playfully, yanking gently then moved past her, daring her to catch him.

"Adventures," the Dwarf huffed as his hand was released and the two Elves moved 
suddenly ahead of him on soundless feet, their amused laughter filling the soft 
night air. "I am getting too old for this. Hmph. To think they call me the 
'child'," he grumped, stumping after them.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Author's Notes

* From "The Lay of Gondolin" found in the book "The Lays of Beleriand". It is an 
incomplete poem by Master Tolkien.

Iluvatar - God. Also called Eru.

The Silmarils were three jewels made by Feanor in which was captured the light 
of the Two Trees of Valinor. The Valar hallowed them so that an impure hand 
could not touch them. The Valar are the 14 greatest Ainur (angelic spirits) 
chosen to go to Arda (or the World). The tragic history of the Silmarils can be 
found in "The Silmarillion".

Earendil is Elrond's father and is known as the Mariner, the Blessed, and Bright 
Earendil. He became the most beloved star of the Elves.

The Nauglamir was a gold necklace made for Finrod by the Dwarves. When it came 
into King Thingol's possession he had the Dwarves of Nogrod set the Silmaril in 
it.

Manwe is the noblest of the Ainur and the mightiest of the Aratar (the eight 
chief Valar.
-----------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 3 - A Song on the Air



Glorfindel took a brush from his pack and began to slide it over Asfaloth's 
snowy neck. The horse leaned toward him, enjoying the ministrations that his 
master performed. It was calming and pleasant for them both and the horse sensed 
that the one brushing him needed the comfort of it more than he did. Though he 
appeared serene on the surface, the Elf was beginning to feel somewhat 
apprehensive about what was to happen. It had been easy not to dwell on it when 
he had been in Imladris as so many other things there occupied his mind and his 
time, but now as they were nearing their destination he felt somewhat anxious. 
On the morrow he would be meeting for the first time the one he would marry. 
They would take part in the exchanging of silver rings in the betrothal 
ceremony, then one year would pass before the actual nuptials would take place.

I would rather get this over quickly, he thought wearily, stroking Asfaloth's 
nose as he moved to the other side. To wait yet another year. He sighed heavily, 
all his years seeming to settle upon him.

As the brush stroked in soft circles over the horse's skin, Glorfindel rested 
his head against the animal, the fingers of his free hand twining in the long 
soft mane. Asfaloth nickered slightly and rubbed his head against his master's, 
offering what solace he could.

Elrond, who had already seen to his own horse, watched his old friend well aware 
of the way Glorfindel was feeling. It was expressed in the way he stood, the 
tilt of his head, the grip of his fingers on Asfaloth's mane. He had known 
Glorfindel since the Second Age when Glorfindel had come, a legend reborn, to 
aid them against the Shadow. During that time Elrond had come to love and 
respect the tall, quiet Eldar on whom he depended for sound judgment and wise 
counsel. The strong bond of friendship bound them now as closely as brothers in 
blood.

The Lord of Imladris moved to help Curon prepare their last camp. Tellenlagor 
was seeing to their two horses and unloading the bedrolls. Elladan and Elrohir 
were unrolling the banners for the "grand procession" on the morrow. Elrond 
could hear their quiet amused comments as they shook the stiff silk out and 
smoothed it as best they could under the present circumstances. The packhorse 
had been unloaded and attended to and was standing a few feet away with the 
other animals cropping the green grass of the clearing. It had rolled in the 
grass, wriggling and waving its long legs in the air, glad to be rid of the 
baskets that it had borne. Glorfindel's bush had been set on the ground in the 
shade, its silver bells filling the air with sweet music.

Curon's gaze followed his lord's and rested on Glorfindel as well. He had never 
seen his tutor of old appear anything but calm and self- assured. The Elf 
remembered his own betrothal and the feelings of trepidation and diffidence that 
had accompanied it.

I knew my beloved well and wished for our joining, he thought in sympathy. I 
cannot imagine wedding someone in this manner. He shook his head and moved to 
make a fire in the center of the small campsite.

When Glorfindel had finished with Asfaloth, the horse trotted away to join his 
fellows, whickering greetings to one another. Glorfindel moved to place the 
brush in his pack once more, his eyes falling on the bush. Would she truly 
appreciate what he was giving to her? Would she understand what it meant to him? 
This sort of gift was not given lightly and he prayed that she would appreciate 
its worth. His brows furrowed with worry. He took a flask of water and poured it 
into the basket that the bush rested in, running his slender fingers over a 
spray of blossoms.

"Ai, Elbereth," he breathed, the flowers intoxicating scent filling his 
nostrils. As it always had the fragrance filled his mind with memories of the 
land of his home. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander as they would. 
Perhaps someday he could tell her of Gondolin and its beauties long gone. But 
then the sound of the twin's laughter broke into his reverie and he opened his 
eyes, seeing not the white towers of Gondolin, but Eryn Lasgalen's tall oaks and 
beech-trees.

I did not feel this much trepidation when I faced the Balrog, he thought wryly, 
wondering how the fair Sindarin princess would feel about the comparison. But 
then I had not time to think. I merely acted.

Slowly he moved from the bush to join the others, his fingers trailing one last 
time over the soft bell shaped flowers, their chiming filling his ears. He 
glanced at his banner rising upright from the ground. It bore the symbol of his 
House Los' loriol the Golden Flower.

In his mind's eye he could see a similar one snapping above the battlefield of 
Anfauglith, the once grassy plain of Ard Galen north of Dorthonion, during the 
fifth battle in the Wars of Beleriand in the First Age, That beautiful region 
had been destroyed by Melkor's forces during the Dagor Bragollach, the fourth of 
the great Wars. It was in the battle that Fingolfin fell, his body returned to 
his sonTurgon of Gondolin by the great eagle Thorondor. It was at Anfauglith 
during Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, that Turgon joined 
the Union of Maehdros. Glorfindel had followed Turgon his King into battle and 
if not for sacrifice of Hurin, Huor, and the Third House of the Edain Turgon's 
forces would have been slaughtered. The banner had flown over the plain of 
Dagorlad just north of Gorgoroth in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Its 
colors had shown proudly when Glorfindel had led a company from Rivendell to aid 
Cirdan and Earnur of Gondor to defeat the Witch-king at the Battle of Fornost.

He turned from it, pushing memories away like so many irritating cobwebs. He 
needed to prepare for his future, not recall his long gone past. Why think of 
battles now when he should be turning his thoughts to matters of the heart not 
the hand. The banner would fly on the morrow as he arrived at Thranduil's palace 
to look on his bride to be for the first time. He would not be facing the 
Enemy's armies this time, merely an Elf maiden of tender years, when compared to 
his own, so why these thoughts of battle?

"Elbereth give me the strength to endure this battle," he breathed, smiling 
wryly. "For a battle it will be I fear, though not of the kind I am used to."


"Will you sing something for us, Lord Glorfindel?" Elrohir asked after their 
meal.

The Elves sat on the ground as crickets fiddled in the darkness just beyond the 
light of their small fire. Glorfindel's gaze went to the heavens, which always 
had afforded him a measure of peace. Earendil shone brightly overhead.

Our symbol of hope, he thought watching it twinkle in the dark velvet of the 
night sky. The words of a song sighed through his mind.

"Earendel arose where the shadow flows At Ocean's silent brim; Through the mouth 
of night as a ray of light Where the shores are sheer and dim He launched his 
bark like a silver spark From the last and lonely sand; Then on sunlit breath of 
day's fiery death He sailed from Westerland." *

He recalled young Earendil, so vibrant, beautiful, and bright; exhibiting the 
best qualities of both his revered parents. Here with him this night were 
Earendil's son and grandsons. He smiled softly looking at his lord and the 
twins. He loved them as deeply as he had loved Tuor the Edain and Idril, the 
beautiful daughter of Turgon, and of course their shining son. Ever he would 
serve their family in honor and contentment. Quietly he began to sing, his 
melodious voice blending with the night's own symphony.



Laerlend had moved ahead of Legolas and Gimli. Earlier the two Elves had dashed 
through the trees laughing and playing like children, rejoicing under Elbereth's 
stars. But now they were merely walking at a more leisurely pace seeing that 
Gimli's shorter legs could not keep up with their longer ones. Legolas walked 
beside the Dwarf, the two speaking in hushed tones together. She marveled at the 
differences in their voices: her brother's a lower pitched tenor; Gimli's a 
deeper rumbling bass. Two such variant creatures should not have become the fast 
friends that they were, but Laerlend knew that Gimli was something quite special 
and the thought of her own friendship with him warmed her heart. She smiled as 
they moved nearly soundless behind her. Since the Dwarf had abandoned his chain 
mail he was nearly as soundlessly as an Elf, something that seemed to amuse him 
highly.

She trailed her fingers through the leaves of the oak tree as she walked beneath 
it in gentle greeting. The night was glorious and not to be wasted listening to 
songs of past valor no matter how heroic. She skipped lightly ahead, humming to 
herself, the grass cool beneath her feet. It was then that she heard the voice.

It was a clear pleasant baritone voice, unlike any she had heard before. It 
drifted delicately through the trees, mingling with the night sounds rising in 
one perfect song before Elbereth. She paused listening to the sound with rising 
joy. It was a song of Earendil.

"The Ship of the Moon from the East comes soon From the Haven of the Sun, Whose 
white gates gleam in the coming beam Of the mighty silver one. Lo! with bellying 
clouds as his vessel's shrouds He weighs anchor down the dark, And on shimmering 
oars leaves the blazing shores In his argent-timbered bark." *

As he sang she stood in silence, closing her eyes with pleasure at the sound of 
the voice and the words it formed. She didn't hear Legolas or Gimli come to 
stand behind her. The two exchanged curious glances as she suddenly tucked her 
long robes into the slender silver belt at her slim waist and leapt into the 
trees.

Legolas shook his head as he watched his sister walk expertly from branch to 
branch, stirring them hardly more than a light summer breeze would. When she 
disappeared from sight he gazed down at his companion who was smiling with 
tender amusement.

"You know who is singing, don't you?" He asked Gimli.

"Aye, I have heard him sing before though rarely. So they have arrived." His 
smile widened to a grin. "Your sister seems rather anxious to meet him now."

"I don't think she realizes whom it is that she hears. Let us go see for 
ourselves what may happen. We shall also see just how silently you have learned 
to tread."

The two grinned and hurried toward the sound of the voice.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Author's Notes

The song Glorfindel sang is "The Last Voyage of Earendel". For the rest of the 
poem, its history, and its relationship to Earendil please read the section "The 
Tale of Earendel" in the "Book of Lost Tales II". Tolkien recalls that in 1914 
he wrote a poem "on" Earendel who launched his ship like a bright spark from the 
havens of the Sun. He adopted him into his own mythology as a mariner, then a 
herald star, and a sign of hope to men. Thus Earendel becomes Earendil.

The Battles of Beleriand can be found in "The Silmarillion" (see chapter 18 - 
"Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin"; chapter 20 - "Of the Fifth 
Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad".

The history of Middle Earth is very rich and powerful. For more in depth reading 
there are the History of Middle Earth books edited by Christopher Tolkien. They 
are a fascinating read!

Thanks to my beta reader alliwantisanelfforchristmas. Go check out her little 
romp "Elvish Lessons". 'Tis a fun read!

Thank you to everyone that read "Whisper of the Eagle's Wings". I won't be 
responding to you on that one since that one is finished, a rare first for me! I 
truly appreciated the reviews. Thank you so much!
-----------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 4 - Amidst the Twining Branches


Glorfindel leaned his head back against the cool silver trunk of the beech tree 
after finishing his song, his long slender legs stretched comfortably before 
him. He felt somewhat more relaxed than he had, and he allowed himself a small 
smile.

Elrond was reclining in the grass, his grey eyes on the sky. Elladan and Elrohir 
grinned at one another, thinking the night had turned much too quiet for their 
liking.

"Do you know what we intend to sing on the morrow?" Elladan asked, staring 
across the clearing at Glorfindel.

"I cannot imagine, young one," he answered with a smile, his eyes remaining 
closed.

"We thought we might sing one of Bilbo's songs, something lighthearted and 
funny. You know Elrohir," Elladan said in an exasperated voice. "We should have 
had him write a silly one about Glorfindel. Why didn't I think of that 'ere 
now!"

Glorfindel opened his eyes and raised one elegant golden brow.

"I understand that Master Samwise writes some very amusing poetry as well," he 
said dryly. "Perhaps you should ask him for a silly song."

Elrohir smiled over at him.

"Yes! I shall have to do that. They will be coming to the wedding, won't they?"

"Enough, Elrohir. Go check on the horses." Elrond moved to his sleeping roll, 
spreading it out on the ground and lying upon it, his eyes on the stars. It was 
on quiet, soft nights like this one that he missed Celebrian the most. She had 
enjoyed sleeping beneath the stars, making love bathed in the light of Earendil. 
He closed his eyes calling up a vision of his beloved wife. Her cloud of long 
golden hair softly framed her delicate face, blue eyes shining with the love she 
had felt for him. Her slim arms would wrap themselves about him as her full lips 
met his in a deep kiss. The lord of Imladris sighed and released the image.

"Celebrian," he breathed. "I miss you so, nin meleth." [my love]

She would have been able to put Glorfindel at ease about the upcoming betrothal, 
and she could even have spoken to the princess. The girl must be at least as 
apprehensive as the Elf-lord. Celebrian had always been a calming presence. 
Elrond turned his head to gaze once more at his friend. His eyes moved over to 
the tree Glorfindel was leaning against when he realized that someone was in 
that tree, perched in the branches high overhead. He didn't allow his eyes to 
linger, though he wondered who it could be. He allowed his gaze to move over 
Glorfindel. The Elf-lord was still sitting with his legs outstretched, ankles 
crossed. He seemed unaware of the person above him. Elrond's eyes went back to 
the figure. He could just make out a pale spill of hair in the moonlight and the 
glinting of silver embroidery on the clothing. A sudden suspicion came to his 
mind. Imladris' lord allowed himself a smile and spoke.

"Glorfindel, why don't you grace us with another song?"

The figure in the tree started and a leaf fell to the grass beside Glorfindel's 
slender blue-clad legs. Elrond's smile widened. He had surmised correctly. She 
had ever been a willful child.

"Perhaps a love song," he continued, leaning on one elbow so he could watch 
Glorfindel and the visitor.

: Little scamp, he thought, running his hand over his face to hide the grin that 
crept across it. Come to spy on him, have you? :

"If that is what you wish," Glorfindel answered him with a questioning look. 
This was not the usual request of his lord. "Do you have one in particular that 
you wish to hear?"

"No. Anything that you might choose will suit me."

Glorfindel sat up, crossing his legs as he prepared to sing once more. His voice 
needed no accompaniment though a small exquisite harp rested in his pack. He 
gazed quietly out into the dark forest wondering which song would "suit" his 
lord this night. In his mind's eyes he saw a maiden dancing in the starlight, 
her hair all unbound flowing about her with a movement all its own. He smiled, 
his gaze turning to Elrond. He could see amusement in his eyes, but also a hint 
of sorrow that told him where the other's thoughts lay. Yes, he knew the song 
that would serve. Once he and Elrond had come upon Celebrian dancing in a star 
filled glade in Imladris, the moon shining on her fair hair, her bare feet 
carrying her in a graceful dance through the grass. Glorfindel had judiciously 
left Elrond standing alone, mesmerized as he watched his glorious wife, eyes 
filled with delight and love.

"The leaves were long, the grass was green, The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, 
And in the glade a light was seen Of stars in shadow shimmering. Tinuviel was 
dancing there To music of a pipe unseen, And light of stars was in her hair, And 
in her raiment glimmering." *

Elrond could not stop the burning rush of tears that filled his eyes as the song 
began. He had often compared his own Celebrian to Luthien the fair. He 
remembered his own moonlit dances with her, the only music that of two souls 
joined in love and life. As Glorfindel continued to sing Elrond hoped that one 
day his friend might come to know the kind of love that had existed for him and 
Celebrian. His eyes moved to the branches of the trees where Laerlend stood, her 
eyes fixed on the one who sat below her.

: Mayhap there is hope; Elrond thought with a smile as his slender fingers moved 
to wipe away his tears. I want you to be happy, nin mellon. As happy as I was. :



Laerlend crouched on the tree branch, staring down at "him". From this vantage 
point she could only see his long golden hair spilling down to his slender 
waist, his legs crossed before him, slim hands resting on his knees. A confusion 
of emotions fluttered through her. She should have known that the unfamiliar 
voice belonged to one of the travelers from Imladris. But why did it have to be 
"his" voice? She peered down through the tangle of summer green leaves, wishing 
she could see his face.

That voice rose to her, clear and vibrant as the music of silver bells, as he 
sang the Tale of Tinuviel and her great love, Beren the son of Barahir. When she 
was younger Laerlend had been enchanted by the Tale of the Elf princess who gave 
up her mortality for the love of a mortal man. It was hopelessly sad and 
romantic, the sort of story that a young girl would sigh happily over.

"Again she fled, but swift he came. Tinuviel! Tinuviel! He called her by her 
elvish name; And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell 
His voice laid on her: Beren came And doom fell on Tinuviel That in his arms lay 
glistening." *

Laerlend sighed caught by the spell of his voice. It was one of the most 
beautiful voices she had ever heard. Many times she had fallen "in love" with 
minstrels for their fair voices raised in praise of love. But none had moved her 
the way this voice did. She closed her eyes and let his words wrap about her in 
a soft embrace.

Suddenly she scowled, her eyes opening then narrowing in anger.

I will not be caught as Luthien was! No voice will catch me in its spell!

She slowly backed away to make her escape on "feet as light as linden- leaves" 
when she noticed Elrond's blue gaze on her hiding place.

She had met the Lord of Imladris on his visits to her father's realm. On their 
first meeting she had been in awe of the tall, formidable Elf, staring up at him 
as he greeted her own formidable father. He had turned to stare down at her, and 
then he had swiftly knelt before her, blue eyes twinkling kindly. He tipped his 
head to the "Princess of Summer" and kissed her hand. She had been smitten with 
him ever since.

But now she felt her cheeks flush, as his eyes seemed to pierce her camouflaging 
of leaves and interlacing branches. How was it that he seemed to know she was 
here? Now she was unwilling to move. She dared not draw any more attention to 
herself. If the twins saw her.She shook her head. That could not happen!

She recalled her first meeting with them during that same visit when she had met 
Elrond. Grey flashing eyes had been filled with such mischief and delight that 
the child Laerlend knew they would be in trouble ere the visit ended. Elrohir 
had immediately lead Legolas away, chatting excitedly about the spiders. She had 
wrinkled her nose in disdain. Boys! What did they know!

Her eyes slid from Elrond to his sons, whom were not really listening to 
Glorfindel singing. Their dark heads were bent together, and she could see their 
lips moving. Plotting some prank, she had no doubt. The other two Elves were 
seated together, enjoying the song. She noticed that they gazed on the Elf 
seated beneath her perch with admiration and friendship shining brightly in 
their eyes.

Why does everyone seem to love him? She wondered, wishing once again that he 
would move only a bit, so she could see his face. Why do I even want to see his 
face? She thought angrily, tugging hard on a stray lock of hair. I don't want to 
see his face or any other part of him! I wish he would stop singing!

She regretted having surrendered to the power of his voice. Why hadn't she 
stayed with Legolas and Gimli? She wondered where they were. They should be here 
to help her escape!

Glorfindel finished his song to murmured comments of appreciation. He leaned 
back against the tree's trunk once more. Elrond's eyes seemed to not hold as 
much sorrow as they had, indeed he looked amused. Glorfindel smiled in content. 
He had helped to ease his lord's pain once more.

Suddenly there was a noise from the forest: heavy footfalls and much rustling in 
the undergrowth. Laerlend glanced down to the ground behind her. Legolas and 
Gimli were headed for the clearing where the visitors were seated. The Dwarf was 
making as much noise as he possibly could, muttering rather loudly about the 
troublesome noise that someone was making with his Elvish songs. Laerlend smiled 
as she realized it was for her benefit. They had come to her aid!

"Mae Govannen, Lord Elrond," Legolas began as the others rose to their feet.

As greetings and pleasantries were exchanged, Laerlend moved backwards across 
the branches. She watched as Legolas and Gimli embraced the twins, and nodded 
politely to Curon and Tellenlagor. Then they turned to Glorfindel as he stood 
gracefully watching as they approached. She stared at him, her eyes taking in 
his tall, straight form and the way the moonlight played on his golden hair. She 
growled and turned, leaping into the next tree, quite angered with herself for 
her weakness.

Another leaf drifted down, landing on the ground at Glorfindel's feet. He bent 
to retrieve it frowning, then glanced up into the tree. Seeing nothing he 
shrugged, twirling it between his fingers. He smiled and embraced his 
brother-in-law -to -be and the Dwarf.


-----------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note - The story of Beren and Luthien can be found in "The 
Silmarillion". It is a great love story as well as an action/adventure tale! 
*The song that Glorfindel sang (not in its entirety here) can be found in LOTR 
in the chapter entitled "A Knife in the Dark". Strider chants it to the Hobbits 
as they travel toward Rivendell.

Thank you again to alliwantisanelfforchristmas for beta-ing this! She has 
started a new fic that is going to be such fun and mayhem "The Unauthorized 
Biography of Legolas Greenleaf". Go read. It is great fun!
-----------------------------------------------------------

 

Chapter 5 - The Comfort of Friends

~thoughts in ~

The quiet song of the crickets and the soft calls of the night birds accompanied 
Laerlend as she ran swiftly through the trees, her bare feet soundless on the 
mossy ground. She berated herself as she hurried away from the clearing where 
"he" was.

"Foolish child," she breathed. "To become enchanted by a voice, like a babe with 
a sparkling bauble. Could you be any more foolish?"

The night air was cooling and scented with the fragrance of dew- kissed grass 
and the more elusive sweetness of night blooming flowers. Stars blazed overhead 
as the moon rode across the velvet sky. The smooth trunks of the beech-trees 
glowed silver, the spaces between dappled with light nearly as bright as day.

The Elf maiden ignored the spell woven by the night and hurried toward her home. 
Too many enchantments had filled the air. As she neared her father's palace she 
could hear the melodious sounds of harps and voices raised over the rush of the 
black river; voices she could easily identify. Lameren and Onethlind were 
singing, their voices lifted in a perfect blending and weaving. The two young 
Elves were gifted singers, and a subtle competition underscored every 
performance they gave.

Laerlend slowed to a more leisurely pace as she neared the bridge spanning the 
river that ran swift and dark before the palace. She hesitated, hoping that her 
turmoil and frustration didn't show in her eyes. Raising her hands to her 
cheeks, which burned beneath the touch, she frowned, wishing she hadn't run with 
such exertion. She waved her hands before her face to help cool them. As she 
caught her breath, willing her coloring to return to normal, she listened to the 
song being sung. The air was still, the clear voices reaching her ears. It was a 
song of the battle on Cristhorn. Lameren's fair tenor sang Glorfindel's words; 
Onethlind's stirring bass the Balrog's.

She was surprised that she found fault with Lameren's voice for the first time. 
She had always enjoyed his singing in the past, so sweet and fine it was. But 
now it fell short of what it should be.

~'Tis not deep enough, ~ she thought critically. ~ The tone is not as clear. 
Truly, he doesn't sound like him at all! ~

Suddenly her cheeks flamed once again and she gasped angrily.

"How dare he do this to me!" She clenched her fists and marched across the great 
stone bridge, leaving the sound of the taunts flung at Glorfindel by the Balrog. 
As she neared the palace she heard laughing, light female voices. Turning she 
groaned as she caught sight of three of her friends approaching rapidly.

"Laerlend, where have you been? We have been looking for you everywhere."

The three Elf maidens joined their friend and immediately pulled her away from 
the palace where she could think in peace.

"Where is Legolas?" Duilinn asked, a blush heating her cheeks. She was slender 
girl with long honey blonde hair falling to her knees, intricately braided and 
tied with ribbons of pale lavender that matched her gown.

Laerlend rolled her eyes. ~ Always Legolas! ~ She thought with a snort. ~ 
Always! ~

"Is he with." Milui breathed. "With Gimli?"

The other girls laughed at her, even Laerlend could not help herself. The 
picture of the tall, slender Elf maiden with the short, robust Dwarf was an 
unusual image to be dwelt on for long.

"How can you have fallen for a Dwarf?" Gwirith asked, enjoying the look on her 
friend's embarrassed face. "A Dwarf, Milui!"

"Don't you think he is rather cute?" The maiden persisted, her leaf green eyes 
bright. "His beard is so soft!"

"Better a Dwarf like Gimli than an Elf-lord named Glorfindel." Laerlend huffed.

The three turned to look at her. They did not understand her reluctance 
entirely. They all had admitted to one another that they would be more than 
happy to join with such a magnificent one as Glorfindel.

"Well, tomorrow you will get to see him and you will change your mind," Gwirith 
said firmly. "You will see. You won't be able to resist him. He will look into 
your eyes and you will be his," She sighed happily, imagining herself staring 
into the Elf-lord's eyes. She could feel him running his slim hands through the 
dark gold spill of her hair, his eyes drinking her in. "Oh, he is wonderful."

"I do not think that I will give in as you would," Laerlend said with a toss of 
her head. "I will not be won so easily."

Gwirith exchanged knowing glances with the others.

"Perhaps he had best keep silent then. For if you hear him sing you will fall 
before him on your knees! You do have a weakness for beautiful voices. His voice 
will be glorious I am sure."

Heat flooded Laerlend's face and she frowned.

"What is in a voice? A voice does not make a person wonderful."

Milui turned to rest her clear green gaze on the princess, a suspicion being 
born in the back of her mind.

"Laerlend? Where HAVE you been this night?"

Gwirith and Duilinn turned to look at her as well. Each girl noted the pink 
cheeks, fiercely bright eyes, and the fine brows knit in consternation, the way 
her long slender fingers wrapped about an abused lock of hair and yanked.

~ Am I read so easily? ~ She thought with annoyance. ~ Will I never learn to 
hide my feelings? If I were to face "him" on the morrow with my unwanted 
feelings shining in my eyes -~

"I have been nowhere!" She answered somewhat more sharply than was necessary. "I 
was merely walking in the woods with Legolas," she said, turning to stab Milui 
with her gaze. "And Gimli."

Milui colored again and smiled. She knew that she was silly to like the Dwarf so 
much, but he was so sweet and spoke so kindly to her, not at all like she 
imagined Dwarves would be. His beard was very soft! He had let her braid it for 
him once. She giggled happily at the memory.

"We saw nothing and no one! No one at all. I heard no one and I saw no one!"

Gwirith shook her head, her merry laughter filling the air as they walked a 
flower- lined path. They were all hopeless and romantic and stubborn.

"One would almost think you have seen him," she murmured slyly. "'I heard no one 
and I saw no one'. Was his voice very pleasing? It must have been very pleasant 
indeed to put you in such a mood."

Laerlend turned to her and glared.

"What does it matter if I did?" She yanked her arm from Milui's and strode ahead 
of them.

"She saw him?" Duilinn asked in amazement. "She SAW him?"

The three ran lightly to catch up with her.

"Please, Laerlend. Please! You have to tell us! If you don't I shall die! Just 
die! What does he look like? Is he more beautiful than Legolas? But he couldn't 
be. No one is. I am sure he is very lovely though. One of the first Elves! My 
goodness! What does he sound like? Did you hear him sing by any chance or just 
speak?"

If either Gwirith or Milui had said this she would have been even more angered. 
But since it had come from quiet Duilinn's mouth she paused and turned to them. 
Well, perhaps she should make light of her momentary fascination and thus rid 
herself of it. It was fun to chatter away with these three, perhaps it was what 
she needed to work out her fears and frustrations.

She smiled at them, a secret playful light in her eyes.

"Very well. I will tell you. I DID see him!"


Glorfindel walked slowly beneath Eryn Lasgalen's towering trees. Such a feeling 
of peace pervaded that it was hard for him to believe this wondrous forest had 
been haunted Mirkwood. When Sauron's power had grown in Dol Guldur in the 
southern reaches during the Third Age, evil creatures had spread through the 
forest and the Old Forest Road had fallen into disuse. But now the wood was once 
again filled with great beauty and tranquility. Where once giant spiders 
infested the groves and hollows, there were secluded gardens with flowering 
trees and bushes; beauty created out of ruin, peace out of conflict. It was to 
one of these places that Glorfindel's feet carried him.

Hidden in the midst of a glade surrounded by screening bushes with delicate pink 
and purple blossoms was a large clear pool of water. Legolas had told the 
Elf-lord about it, knowing that he wished to bathe before the morrow. Glorfindel 
studied it with pleasure. It would feel good to wash the dust of the road off. 
He moved to kneel by the water and passed his hand through its coolness. He 
smiled and stood. He shed his travel- stained clothing, piling it neatly nearby. 
Then he stepped into the water.

He sighed happily and swam the pool's length, ducking his head under to refresh 
his hair before moving to sit on a long, smooth rock submerged like a bench into 
one side. He leaned his head against the edge, arms outstretched on the grassy 
bank. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.

The scents and sounds of summer surrounded him with their soft quietness. Far in 
the distance he could make out the sound of fair voices raised to the night. He 
allowed himself a smile. He could not make out the words or the melodies, just 
the sense of music lifted on the air. He smiled, wrapped in the season's soft 
embrace.

He recalled the great feast of Tarnin Austa - the Gates of Summer - that was 
celebrated in Gondolin. The custom was that from midnight of the chosen day 
until the dawn a solemn silence reigned in the city. Silver lamps glowed in the 
streets and lights of emerald, sapphire, ruby and amethyst twinkled in the new 
green of the trees. The only sound was that of the low music of instruments and 
the splashing of the fountains. The white stone of Gondolin's walls glowed like 
moonlight, shadows of trees and dancing water were thrown into gentle relief 
against them. Before the first light of day touched the sky, the people would 
gather on the eastern wall, their fair faces glowing with anticipation. Then as 
the first light glimmered in the sky, their voices would raise with ancient 
songs to greet the new day, ushering it in with the sound of glorious wonder and 
delight.

The last spring in Gondolin had been a joyous one. The winter had been exceeding 
hard and cold even for that region. Frost had lain thick on the plain of 
Tumladin, the pools shrouded in ice. So it was with great joy that the 
Gondothlim greeted the spring and the return of life as flowers flooded the 
plain with color and the waters ran freely under the blue skies, released from 
their frozen prison. All boded well for the year ahead.

So it was on the night of the vigil that the people of Gondolin were dressed in 
their finery, the children wearing garlands of bright flowers in their hair. 
They had watched the setting of the sun in the west and Glorfindel had picked up 
his small cousin Emlin, holding her on his broad shoulders as they watched the 
first stars appear in their brilliance. The child pointed in delight from one 
shining dot to the next, ever silent and smiling. One tiny hand gripped his long 
golden hair, her bare feet thumping in excitement against his chest. He smiled, 
enjoying the young one's enthusiasm. It was then that he heard the voices, 
shatteringly loud in the silence of the occasion. He turned to see people 
gathering near the northern wall and battlements, their faces filled with wonder 
and bewilderment. He frowned and joined the growing throng of people. He made 
his way up the steps and joined those that stood on the wall; tiny Emlin still 
perched on his shoulders.

Far in the northward heights a glow was seen, golden and distant.

"What is that, Cousin Glory?" Emlin whispered, fearful to speak on this night, 
but hearing the anxiety in the voices about her made her feel that for once the 
silence of Tarnin Austa could be broken.

He reached up and brought her down to let her straddle his hip, one of her hands 
immediately tangling again in his long gold locks. He stared at the distant 
mountains, watching as the light deepened and grew red, making the snow on the 
peaks turn to blood. A deep foreboding had gripped the Elf-lord. He turned to 
where Tuor and Idril stood flanking Earendil not far away. He felt the man's 
gaze turn to him. They locked eyes and Glorfindel felt his heart tighten ever 
more with fear. Tears streamed down the Lady Idril's fair face.

"Alas," he murmured, gripping the child to him.

The sound of hooves was heard, and ill tidings were brought to the king by the 
plain's riders who bore the message from those who guarded the peaks:

"Melko is upon us!"

A great silence fell over the fair city of Gondolin as the news of the grave 
danger spread. Great fire-serpents were advancing toward them, with hordes of 
Orcs. And Balrogs.

"What is a Balrog?" Emlin had asked, fear growing in the small child as she saw 
the people begin to cry out in anguish and desolation. Women were sobbing and 
clinging to their husbands who knew they must prepare for the defense of their 
beloved city. Children were screaming as the glow of the enemies' fire advanced 
ever closer down the mountains and across the plain.

"You needn't fear the Balrogs, child. No harm will come to you. Come, I will 
take you to your mother." Glorfindel moved through the milling crowd of panicked 
citizens, one hand shielding the child as he carried her swiftly down the steps, 
his eyes searching for her family. Eirien came running to meet them, her 
magnificent grey eyes filled with such horror that Glorfindel drew her into his 
embrace before returning her child to her. "All will be well," he murmured, 
fearing that he was telling her something untrue. Deep within he knew the city 
was going to fall, the life they had lived here in such joy was over.

He recalled the words Tuor had spoken so many long years hence, sent to Gondolin 
by Ulmo the Ainu to warn them of their need for preparation against Melko. But 
Turgon had refused to listen to the advice and now it seemed that their doom was 
upon them. He had to find the men of his House and prepare for battle. He saw 
many beloved faces, marred by fear and tears. He heard shouts of terror and 
orders being called to the soldiers. He looked up to the wall facing north and 
saw the Lady Idril staring at the advancing enemy, her hand on the shoulder of 
her young son. Her fair hair was unbound and danced about her in the fair spring 
breeze. Tuor was already mustering his men and his clear voice could be heard 
ringing in the square.

"Glorfindel? Glorfindel!" Voices were calling to him. He had to prepare. Soon 
the enemy would be upon them.

"Glorfindel?"

The Elf-lord started slightly and opened his eyes. Elrond was standing on the 
other side of the pool, his dark blue eyes on his friend.

"You seemed very far away. Am I disturbing you?"

Glorfindel blinked slowly, willing the vivid memory of that most horrible night 
to dissipate.

"Not at all. I shall be glad of the company."

Elrond smiled gently and undressed. He slipped into the water, enjoying the 
coolness that wrapped about his body. He slid under the water, resurfacing a few 
feet away from Glorfindel. He moved to join him on the sunken stone bench.

"Mirkwood is indeed much changed," he commented quietly. "Once I would have had 
to rescue you from the clutches of it's giant spiders if you came here 
unattended. The twins used to want one, as you recall."

Glorfindel smiled, his eyes still distant.

"Aye, children." Pain that should have all but vanished over so long a period of 
time ached in his heart. He drew a shaky breath, trying not to think of all the 
children that had died that night in Gondolin.

"You needn't fear the Balrogs, child. No harm will come to you." His words to 
sweet Emlin drifted across the pain of the memories, searing him.

Elrond turned his head slightly, seeing the noble brow furrowed, the eyes filled 
with anguish.

"What were you thinking of before I arrived?" He asked in a gentle voice.

Glorfindel stared across the water, forcing his mind to the present, willing a 
calmness to return. He had not called up these memories in a very long time. The 
pain they caused troubled him.

"I was remembering the last night in Gondolin. It was the time of Tarnin Austa. 
It was a fair night much as this one is. Hearing the songs in the distance 
reminded me of it." His lips twitched in what might have been a smile. Or not. 
"'Tis not fitting to be thinking of that night now," he said after a moment. 
"But - my life changed that night, just as it is about to change again."

Elrond lifted one dark brow.

"Rather a different kind of change, my friend," he said with a wry smile.

Glorfindel turned his head to gaze at his lord and raised an eyebrow as well.

"Unless of course you are likening the girl to a Balrog," he smiled in a teasing 
manner.

Glorfindel's mouth did twitch into a smile then. Hadn't he been thinking 
something like that earlier?

"Not exactly." He drew a breath. "Why must I be forced to endure a year after we 
are betrothed? That is a long wait for something that is inevitable."

Elrond's dark blue eyes widened in surprise at this sudden change in his 
friend's line of thinking.

"Well, it is the custom," he answered with a frown. Suddenly he grinned. "Are 
you so eager for your joining, my friend?"

Color tinged the Elf-lord's high cheekbones, but he said nothing.

Elrond continued to smile, though he turned, laying back against the bank to 
stare at the stars overhead.

"It would seem that you are not the only one to be eager for this," he said in 
an even tone, though he wished to laugh aloud in delight with the teasing.

"I know not what you mean." Glorfindel said, looking upward as well. His face 
reddened and he frowned. ~I am too old for this. I should not be blushing like a 
mere lad who has never kissed a girl. ~

"I mean that Laerlend seems to be anticipating this much as you are."

Glorfindel wanted to squirm uncomfortably at the mention of her name, but willed 
himself to stillness. Why was he so discomfited at the mere mention of her name?

"Has Legolas said something?" He managed at last, knowing that as always his 
voice sounded calm and natural.

Elrond's face ached as he controlled his urge to laugh aloud.

"It would seem that she could not wait for morrow to see you."

Glorfindel frowned and turned to look at his lord.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "I have not seen her."

"No, you have not seen her, but - she has seen you."

Glorfindel noted the bright twinkling of amusement in his friend's eyes, which 
remained on the sky.

"When has she seen me?" He looked away, refusing to be drawn into the game.

"Oh, this night."

"This night?" He barely managed to keep from starting up to stare down at 
Elrond.

Imladris lord bit at his lips to keep from laughing.

"Yes. Didn't you see her?"

A feeling of annoyance crept into Glorfindel. ~ I am too old to be teased in 
this manner. You would think he was one of his sons. ~ But he also felt a twinge 
of annoyance at himself. Was it possible that she had been present somewhere and 
he had NOT seen her? Surely he had been more alert than that. But then he 
remembered all the noise Gimli had made as he and Legolas had come into the 
clearing. He had known Gimli for a time now and he had never heard the Dwarf 
make such a racket in all that time, even when he was swathed in his beloved 
chain mail. He scowled.

"Where was she? Perched in the tree over my head?" He asked, feeling his 
annoyance pass to the girl.

Elrond could not help the gasp of laughter that escaped his lips.

"She was! So you did see her? I didn't think that you had."

Glorfindel scowled and Elrond burst into peals of delight.

"You did NOT see her!" He gasped. "Here I thought you were ever vigilant and 
nothing escaped your notice."

The ancient Elf-lord turned inscrutable eyes on his friend.

" 'Tis not funny."

"Actually it is!"

Glorfindel looked away as Elrond laughed. In his mind's eye he saw the leaf 
falling to the ground at his feet. He shook his head imperceptibly. She had her 
fun and now Elrond was having his. He sighed and stood.

"It is not funny, Elrond. It was rude of her not to make her presence known."

"She is Thranduil's daughter and you know how headstrong and willful he is."

"Not unlike you or your own children."

"Are you insulting me?" Elrond asked, standing to his feet, eyes filled with 
mischief.

The Lord of the House of the Golden Flower turned, his blue eyes bright.

"Perhaps I am. I have known your family for a long time and know you all quite 
well."

Elrond gasped in mock hurt.

"You will pay for that insolence, Lord Glorfindel!" He suddenly felt water 
splash him in the face, for Glorfindel was faster.

Soon the two were laughing merrily and splashing water at one another beneath 
the stars of Elbereth.

There was a sound behind them and they turned to see Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas, 
and Gimli watching them.

"To think," Elladan commented dryly, folding his arms over his chest, one 
eyebrow cocked in perfect imitation of his sire. "They call us the children."

Elrond looked at Glorfindel, who allowed a low smile to spread over his face.

"Did they just insult us?" He asked, looking wounded and surprised.

" 'Twould seem so."

"Well, we must do something to redeem our honor and dignity."

They turned back to the four younglings. As one they splashed water up onto them 
where they stood standing on the grass. Soon five Elves and one Dwarf were 
laughing and splashing in one of Mirkwood's hidden glades.



Author's Note: The story of Gondolin's fall is in the Book of Lost Tales II

  
 

Chapter 6 - Anticipation



The morning sky was a pale blue; bars of gold streaked the lavender clouds that 
floated on the horizon. The sweet sound of birdsong filled the soft air as the 
world awoke from its slumber. All promised a bright, fair day. A flowering tree 
dripping white petals on the ground swayed outside Laerlend's window, filling 
her room with its fragile scent. A beautiful vase of pale stone held flowers 
plucked that morning from the dew kissed ground.

Laerlend of Mirkwood suppressed a sigh as Gwirith deftly wove some of the bright 
flowers into her hair, which hung in an intricate braid down her slim back. 
Small tendrils curled about her delicate face, which was flushed with soft 
color. Her hazel eyes stared into the mirror, though they did not see what was 
reflected. The joking and teasing of the night before had faded and with it the 
momentary lightness of her heart.

She scowled at her reflection, and then stuck her tongue out at herself. Behind 
her, her three friends sighed and shook their fair heads.

"Really, Laerlend. Must you always behave so childishly?" Duilinn asked, moving 
to stand behind her, gazing at her in the mirror, her slim hands resting on her 
friend's tense shoulders.

"Yes, I must!" She huffed, pushing the chair backwards and nearly knocking the 
other girl down in the process. "If they insist on treating me like a child, 
then I will act like one."

"But you are getting betrothed. That is very grown up," Milui assured her, green 
eyes filled with concern.

"I don't want to be betrothed," she began and Gwirith sighed heavily, placing 
the remaining flowers in the vase.

"Don't start that again, nin meldis {my friend}. We have heard all of your 
arguments and grievances and well, I for one do not think you are giving this 
romance a chance. If it were I -"

"If it were you then you would be running even now to meet him on the path!" 
Laerlend sneered. But she instantly regretted her harsh words. "I am sorry, 
Gwirith. Truly. But - "she sighed and looked at the floor, "I don't want to do 
this." Hot tears suddenly threatened in her eyes.

Her three friends moved to enfold her in their combined embrace.

"All will be well, Laerlend. It could be a lot worse. It is Lord Glorfindel 
after all," Duilinn said quietly into her friend's soft, sweet smelling hair. 
"Since you cannot marry Legolas, Glorfindel is second best."

Gwirith looked up and shook her head, her eyes bright with consternation and 
amusement.

"Truly, Duilinn. Be quiet! This is not what she needs to hear. You and your 
Legolas. Honestly, do you think of nothing else?"

Duilinn smiled and shook her head.

"Nay. Never."

The four giggled like happy children at that, knowing that Legolas did not view 
poor Duilinn in the same light as she saw him.

"Well," Laerlend began, wiping at the stray tear that had strayed from her eyes. 
"We shall see just how devoted to his lord's commands Lord Glorfindel is." She 
straightened and looked once more at her reflection in the mirror. She lifted 
her chin, and one eyebrow.

Gwirith and Milui exchanged sudden worried glances. They had seen this look 
before and it had always led to trouble.

"What do you mean, Laerlend?" Milui asked, her brows knitting in anxiety.

"Oh, not much. I just want to see how much Lord Goldilocks really wants to marry 
me." She turned quickly and marched determinedly from the room.

"Oh, no," Gwirith breathed, hurrying after her. "What is she going to do now?"



Glorfindel was kneeling in the soft grass beside the silver bell bush, his long 
fingers gently stroking the spray of pale blossoms, their delicate, merry sound 
filling the early morning air. Behind him he could hear Elladan and Elrohir 
laughing at one another over their 'fancy' clothing.

The Elf-lord knew they were dressed in identical dark blue tunics and pants, 
tucked into soft black leather boots. Their slim waists were belted with black 
velvet sashes that hung to their knees. Long charcoal colored cloaks swung 
gracefully from their shoulders; black hair held in place by slender silver 
circlets. They had decided it was more fun jesting about their garments than 
complaining, as it would make not the least bit of difference to their father 
how much - or how loudly - they grumped.

Tellenlagor and Curon were also dressed in somber blues and greys. They were 
quietly loading the packhorse in preparation for their departure from this camp. 
Their soft voices carried on the light air as softly as the chiming of the 
floral bells.

Elrond was combing his long hair, working on a particularly stubborn snarl that 
had not received due attention the night before. Even while he grimaced 
slightly, tugging at the tangle, his eyes were on his old friend. He allowed 
himself a smile. Glorfindel was dressed in a dark grey tunic that fell to just 
above his knees, embroidered with golden flowers, vines, and leaves. A belt of 
butter soft black leather circled his slender frame, the clasp fashioned as a 
golden flower, the symbol of his house. The solemn color of the clothing 
complimented the spill of gold hair that fell unhindered to his waist. Tight 
fitting sable leggings, tucked into black boots, hugged the long slender lower 
limbs.

~She will not be able to resist him, ~ Imladris' lord thought as he finally 
managed to work the delicately carved comb through the knot. He watched as the 
ancient Elf-lord straightened, easily lifting the bush and carrying it to the 
packhorse.

Asfaloth shook his head, the tiny golden bells Glorfindel had braided into his 
flowing mane and tail chiming musically. He watched as his master petted the 
pack animal, murmuring to it. Then he joked lightly with the two Elves. Though 
his voice was lighthearted and filled with jests, Asfaloth could sense his 
master's unease. As he moved from the other horse, Asfaloth whickered at him, 
head bobbing in greeting.

Glorfindel smiled, running a loving hand down the horse's forehead and beneath 
the strong jaw, then trailing over the smooth, silky neck beneath the spill of 
snowy mane.

"Tir-le melui, nin roch mellon {You look lovely, my horse friend}," he murmured 
into one twitching ear.

Asfaloth whinnied, nodding his head as if in agreement and butted against his 
master's shoulder, letting him know that he too looked very lovely.

Glorfindel chuckled, plucking at one tiny bell with the end of one slender 
finger.

"We make a wondrous fair pair," he breathed lightly, leaning his forehead 
against the animal's in a time-honored tradition.

Elrond stood, smoothing his own dark charcoal colored robe. Beneath it was a 
long velvet tunic a few shades paler, cut up the front and back to allow him to 
ride comfortably. Delicate swirls were embroidered on the wide sleeves and down 
the black sash at his own waist. A circlet of unadorned silver crowned his brow.

"We all look rather impressive, do we not?" He said to no one in particular, his 
eyes moving over them all.

"We will certainly show those Mirkwood Elves how sophisticated and beautiful we 
residents of Imladris are," Elladan said with a graceful bow at his twin.

"I am sure they have never seen anything like us," Elrohir bowed back, equally 
graceful.

The two grinned at one another, and leapt lightly onto their matching grey 
horses.

If Glorfindel hadn't felt so distracted he would have enjoyed their joking. Even 
as he lifted his head to smile over at them, his fingers tightened around one of 
Asfaloth's tiny braids.

~I am too old to be feeling this way. 'Tis merely a betrothal, not the nuptials. 
Why should I feel such anxiety? ~

Partly 'the girl' was to blame. He thought it particularly unfair for her to be 
sneaking about the woods in the dead of night to spy upon him. She was willful 
and stubborn, as Elrond had said. Then he sighed, allowing a bemused smile to 
touch his lips. Life with her would be quite - interesting.

"To say the least," he murmured wryly to Asfaloth. "I guess it is time." He ran 
a hand down the horse's nose one last time and mounted. Asfaloth danced beneath 
him, clearly stating that he was excited and eager to be off even if someone 
else was not.

Tellenlagor, who was already astride his horse, took the banner of the house of 
the Golden Flower from Curon, who also mounted, catching up the packhorse's 
lead.

Elrond surveyed them all with satisfaction.

"Ah, yes. Magnificent. We will indeed show them how sophisticated and beautiful 
we are."

The twins grinned and made faces at one another.

"I am more beautiful than you, Elladan."

"Nay, I am the most beautiful!"

"I am!"

"I am!"

Elrond sighed, shaking his head as he mounted his horse, and stroked its neck.

"Neither of you is the most beautiful this day," he said loudly, effectively 
cutting them off mid-argument. "My other son is."

They all turned to gaze at Glorfindel, who raised his dark gold brows.

"Your 'son'?" He said in an even tone. "I am old enough to be your grandfather."

"Ah. That may be true, but you are not my grandfather, and for today you are my 
'son'. I will stand beside you as you make your betrothal vow. I will be with 
you when you wed, and I will give you away to Thranduil's daughter."

"Give him away?" Elladan laughed. "Is that what we are doing?"

"May I have his room?" Elrohir asked, dark blue eyes bright with mirth.

"No, you may not have my room," Glorfindel retorted with a laugh of his own. "I 
happen to like my room and will not give it up to either of you."

"We shall see," Elladan said philosophically. "What makes you think 'the girl' 
will like your room?"

" 'The girl' will love it," Elrond assured his son, easing his horse onto the 
path. "Shall we? 'The girl' awaits!"

As Glorfindel moved Asfaloth to trot behind his lord, he heard Elrohir whisper 
to his brother,

"I wonder if 'the girl' is as nervous as 'the boy'."

-----------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note - As I have not found much in the way of Elven Betrothal's I will 
be making something up. If you know anything at all other than the exchanging of 
silver rings, please let me know! Email me at AnakinS@aol.com. It would be much 
appreciated!
-----------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 7 - When at Last We Meet



The sound of fair Elven voices drifted to the riders as they neared Thranduil's 
Hall. The voices were light and joyful, a blending of masculine and feminine, as 
they rose to fill the air with their beauty. Elrond smiled, gazing about him in 
wonder once more at the changes wrought even here, deep in the Wood Elf King's 
realm. Great beeches and towering oaks soared above them, sunlight splashing 
through the interlaced branches to sparkle upon the ground beneath.

"This is indeed a lovely place," he murmured, his dark blue gaze taking it all 
in with great pleasure.

"I find it rather boring," Elladan commented dryly. "No spiders anywhere."

"Indeed," Elrohir agreed, cocking his head to one side. "No roaming Goblins or 
Wargs either!"

"Entirely too quiet!" Both twins finished together with matching nods and grins.

Glorfindel nodded also, not even aware that his agile fingers were weaving yet 
another braid into Asfaloth's mane; his eyes were intently focused on the path 
ahead of them. Very soon they could hear the rush of water as it tumbled by the 
palace, to the edge of Eryn Lasgalen, eventually spilling out into Long Lake in 
the east. Very soon now he would see 'her', and all his thoughts were bent to 
this moment. His dark gold brows knit, fingers moving to select another strand 
of hair and beginning to braid it deftly. Why did it matter so much what she 
might think of him? For truly it mattered not at all, this thing would be 
accomplished regardless of what they thought or felt for one another.

~I only hope that she can at least like me a little, ~ he thought with a small 
sigh. ~It will be much easier if we can tolerate one another. I wonder what sort 
of person she is? What she is really like? She cannot just stubborn and willful 
. . . and mischievous. ~

Very soon they came within sight of the bridge. There were no garlands of 
flowers or choirs of Elves singing. Today's ritual would be a private family 
affair; only the betrothal feast later would be attended by the community of 
Elves of Eryn Lasgalen.

Black water rushed beneath the great stone bridge which lead to steps cut into 
the river's bank, flanked by carved containers filled with a profusion of 
flowers. Beyond this was a green grassy terrace, and at last you arrived at the 
great magic gates of the Hall of Thranduil. A small knot of Elves was standing 
on the stone steps, obviously awaiting their arrival.

"So it begins," Elladan said in an ominous voice.

"I hope she likes your bush, Lord Glorfindel," Elrohir added with a glance at 
his old teacher. Then he and Elladan exchanged winks.

"Don't start," Elrond warned them with a shake of his head. "Try to behave, and 
act like you have at least a few manners."

"Don't worry, Adar. We will," they both assured him in serious voices.

"When have we ever not behaved with perfect manners as befits a son of Elrond?" 
Elladan asked, looking somewhat hurt by his father's insinuations.

Elrond turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Where shall I start?" He asked in sarcastic voice.

Elladan merely grinned and shrugged.

"Never fear, we will behave today, Adar," Elrohir said. "But we aren't promising 
what will happen tomorrow!"



"There they are," Gimli commented with a nod of his head.

King Thranduil of Mirkwood glanced down at the Dwarf that stood by his youngest 
son's side. They were always together now it seemed, a most unlikely friendship 
that the king had at last come to acknowledge as wondrous and amusing. His 
estimation of the son of Gloin had risen considerably as evidenced by his 
presence at this ceremony that would include only family members. Today the 
Dwarf looked almost Elvish - well, his clothing did anyway. He was not dressed 
in the darker earthy colors of wools and leathers today. His tunic was of dark 
green silk, embroidered with Elvish designs in delicate threads of silver and 
white. The garment fell to the tops of his knee-length boots of soft, rich brown 
leather; his matching green breeches tucked neatly into them. The smallest hint 
of a shimmering white shirt peeked from beneath the tunic's full, flowing 
sleeves. His rich reddish hair and beard had been neatly braided, assisted by 
the more than willing Milui. She had wanted to braid green ribbons into it, but 
this he had courteously refused, though he had allowed her to tie one at the end 
of the long braid that hung down his strong back.

Legolas had been highly amused by this and the Dwarf had endured the 
good-natured teasing with grace and patience. Indeed, their friendship had come 
a long way since its conception so many years before. Therefore Gimli felt it 
safe to comment on the Elf's hair.

Since this was a joyous time, the warrior braids had been loosed and brushed 
out. The long hair hung freely beneath a circlet of silver so dark it appeared 
nearly black, one matching those worn by his brothers.

"I have never seen you without your warrior braids, Master Elf," he had said, 
appraising his friend critically. The tall, slender Elf was dressed in green 
silk also, though his tunic hung to the floor in a graceful spill of rich fabric 
embroidered with many tiny leaves of gold and copper. The flowing sleeves were 
gathered at his wrists with jewel- encrusted cuffs. Jewels also sparkled at the 
belt that circled his slender waist. "I must say you look very fair with your 
hair falling all about you like that."

"Not as fair as you with that green ribbon. Mayhap I should get Milui to tie one 
onto my hair as well."

"Nay, nay," Gimli chuckled. "Then Glorfindel might become confused and think he 
must marry you instead."

Gimli's eyes twinkled happily now as they watched the Imladris party arrive. For 
some reason the grim look on Glorfindel's face reminded him of a soldier going 
into battle rather than a man riding forth to meet the woman he would share his 
life with.

"He looks as he must have when he faced the Balrog," he whispered to Legolas, 
holding one hand before his mouth, not realizing that the sharp Elven ears about 
him could hear his every breath.

Legolas grinned.

"An apt enough comparison I fear. She is in quite a mood this morning. I hope 
she doesn't do anything that she will regret."

"Are you saying something rude about your sister, Little Greenleaf?" Thranduil 
asked, hiding his own smile. He had seen her as well this morning, and felt that 
a Balrog might learn something from her in this present mood. His hands smoothed 
the rich green velvet of his own robe, which was ornamented with subtle designs 
of vines and flowers in silver and white thread. An ornate circlet crowned his 
brow, his long dark gold hair spilling down his straight back.

"Nay, Adar, I was not," Legolas grinned. "I was merely stating my concern for 
Lord Glorfindel's . . .um . . . well being."

"Well, you might," Celebross said quietly. He loved his little sister dearly, 
and found her antics highly amusing at times. But today was not the day for 
pranks and tricks. She must learn to treat some things with the respect and 
dignity they deserved. He also knew that she did not look forward to this first 
meeting with proper anticipation either. He shook his silver head. It would be 
quite interesting to see how this day would progress.

As the horses began to clatter onto the bridge, Thranduil moved down the steps, 
his sons and Gimli falling in behind him.

"Lord Goldilocks looks very nice," the Dwarf commented as he stumped behind 
Legolas.

"Yes. Even Laerlend should be impressed. We must get him to sing though - 
something just for her. Perhaps -"

Thranduil cleared his throat, effectively cutting his son off in mid- sentence. 
The Dwarf and the Elf grinned at one another in silent amusement, remembering 
the tree climbing adventure of the night before.

Elrond had dismounted gracefully and moved to meet Oropher's son. The Lord of 
Imladris met the King of Eryn Lasgalen at the center of the bridge, each staring 
calmly at the other. The two powerful Elf-lords assessed one another, and then 
clasped hands.

"Welcome to Eryn Lasgalen, Elrond of Imladris."

"I thank you, Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen."

Elladan and Elrohir both glanced at Legolas and Gimli. Legolas rolled his blue 
eyes expressively, and bowed to them. They returned the bow making flourishes of 
their slim hands.

Glorfindel slid from Asfaloth's back as Elrond turned slightly toward him. He 
moved elegantly toward them, his eyes on Thranduil, his future father-in-law. He 
bowed gracefully to him, his hand over his heart, head inclined.

"Welcome to Eryn Lasgalen, Lord Glorfindel," Thranduil greeted, his blue gaze 
intense as his eyes swept the other Elf in appraisal. His features were very 
fair as befitted a Noldorin Elf of old, framed by the golden hair of Finarfin's 
kindred; his body straight, slender, and strong.

Glorfindel allowed the inspection, his eyes calmly meeting the King's, his chin 
lifted slightly.

Thranduil suppressed the smile that threatened, feeling that Glorfindel was a 
most satisfactory choice for a son-in-law. He touched his hand to his own heart.

"Will you all please join us for some tea that Laerlend has prepared?" he asked, 
including them all in his invitation. "It will be an excellent opportunity for 
us all to become more relaxed with one another."

Elrond smiled, his eyes meeting Thranduil's. The two shared a secret amusement 
at this thought. It would be anything but relaxing for the two most involved in 
today's ceremony.

"We would be delighted to join you," Imladris' Lord said, inclining his head 
slightly.

Glorfindel felt a slight tightening in his chest at the mention of 'her' name, 
and he hoped his slight anxiety didn't show on his features, which he struggled 
to keep calm and impassive. It would not do to let them all see exactly how much 
trepidation this moment was causing him.

"I will have your horses taken care of," Thranduil said as he motioned to two 
silent Elves waiting near the steps. They hurried forward, bowing as they went 
to the horses. They paused, seeing the bush perched in the basket on the pack 
animal. They looked uncertainly at their king.

Glorfindel turned and moved to join them, his fingers trailing over a delicate 
stem.

"Please be very careful with this. It is very . . . special to me."

The two Wood Elves nodded and lead the horses away, speaking to the animals in 
low, soothing voices praising them for coming so far and welcoming them to Eryn 
Lasgalen, not unlike the greeting their king had extended to his guests.

Asfaloth hesitated, whickering slightly and bobbing his head, which set the 
bells in his mane dancing and singing.

All will be well," Glorfindel murmured, stroking the velvety nose, "so go with 
them, nin roch mellon {my horse friend}. I will come to see you later."

Asfaloth whinnied a soft reply and moved to look at King Thranduil. He eyed the 
monarch for a moment, as if assessing 'his' worthiness to become a member of 
Glorfindel's family, then trotted after the others.

Legolas grinned at the twins who had moved to join him and Gimli.

"I guess he passed Asfaloth's test," Gimli said with an amused grin. "Horses!"

"This is going to get rather interesting," Elrohir said, speaking first for a 
change.

"It is indeed," Gimli chuckled as they turned to follow Thranduil and Elrond 
toward the Hall. "Very interesting."

Glorfindel watched as the horses disappeared around a curve in the wooded 
hillside. He would feel better if Asfaloth could have joined them for tea. Then 
he smiled at the thought and wondered what 'the girl' would think of that.

"Don't worry, Lord Glorfindel," Elladan said, clapping his hand on the other's 
shoulder in a friendly manner. "Your bush will be just fine."



"They are coming! Oh, Laerlend! They are coming, and he is SO beautiful!"

Duilinn ran into the room where Thranduil's daughter had been instructed to 
wait. Gwirith and Milui were waiting with her, Gwirith fixing the bright flowers 
in her friend's hair. They had sent the other Elf maiden to play spy, and then 
warn them of the party's approach. Milui looked up from where she sat braiding 
flowers into a floral wreath that would be used on the betrothal table at the 
feast.

"More beautiful than Legolas?" Gwirith quipped, sliding a white daisy into the 
long braid of Laerlend's hair.

"Uh . . . well," the Elf maiden flushed prettily, her large blue eyes blinking 
rapidly. "Almost." Her face reddened even more at this statement, and she raised 
her slim hands to cover her hot cheeks. Then she began to giggle helplessly. "He 
is very lovely," she finally managed to gasp.

Gwirith and Milui laughed with her as well as at her, but Laerlend merely 
narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin stubbornly.

"He cannot be more beautiful than Lord Elrond," she said suddenly, her hands 
moving to smooth her pale gown of ice blue silk.

Gwirith turned to her, a frown creasing her lips.

"Lord Elrond?" She queried. "Well, to be sure, he is very fair, Laerlend, but . 
. . what does that have to do with Lord Glorfindel?"

Laerlend gazed at her coolly, and then she smiled slowly, causing Gwirith to 
feel a sudden unwelcome apprehension.

"Everything," the princess of Mirkwood answered, her hands moving over her fair 
hair, adorned with the summers' blessing of flowers. "Absolutely everything."



Glorfindel tried to admire the exquisite carvings on the pillars and corbels 
tucked in the corners, but all the beauties of this underground palace, though 
quite magnificent, couldn't keep his mind from the fact that any moment now he 
would be meeting 'her'. He would look upon her, the maiden who would be his 
bride in a year's time. His heart seemed to be laboring entirely too much, his 
breath squeezed from reluctant lungs. He felt entirely ridiculous. He was an 
Elf-lord of a great house; a warrior, and a Balrog slayer. Why did he fear this 
so much? Nay, not fear exactly, but the trepidation he felt was entirely too 
much for this situation. He shook his head slightly, hearing the quiet voices of 
Elladan and Elrohir behind him, mingled with those of Legolas and Gimli. Even 
Tellenlagor and Curon seemed entirely at ease as they spoke with Thranduil's two 
other sons of the wonders of the Hall of the Wood Elf King.

~At least they are enjoying themselves, ~ he thought almost jealously.

Thranduil lead them to a private chamber hung with rich tapestries on the stone 
walls that were painted a soothing pale blue. Rich carpets dyed and woven in 
shades of green, blue, gold and crimson were scattered over the chill floors. 
Beautifully carved chairs were placed about a delicate table in the room's 
center. Steaming pots of tea, cups, saucers, and plates delicately painted with 
green leaves and acorns were set upon the table. A woven basket contained sweet 
smelling bread and rich dark green napkins lay across the plates, silver rings 
etched with oak and beech leaves encircling them.

"Please be seated," Thranduil said, gesturing toward the laden table. "Laerlend 
will be here shortly."

Glorfindel seated himself beside Elrond, who smiled reassuringly at him. 
Thranduil was seated to the ancient Elf-lord's right, an empty chair between 
them. Glorfindel knew it was for 'her'.

"How was your trip?" Thranduil asked Imladris' Lord politely. He knew it would 
perhaps ease the tension to speak of trivialities. For all of Glorfindel's poise 
and supposed calm, the king of Eryn Lasgalen could sense the anxiety the 
Elf-lord felt. The lips were pressed together a bit too tightly, the blue eyes a 
bit too fixed, and the long slender fingers were knotted on the grey tunic, the 
knuckles white.

Elrond, having noted all of this as well, answered in an even conversational 
tone. Across from them the twins had engaged Legolas and Gimli in an animated 
discussion. Tellenlagor, Curon, and the other two princes were speaking quietly 
to one another, amused over the others' talk of spiders now long gone. Except of 
course for Thranduil's middle son, Aralith. He had ever been afraid of the great 
arachnids.

Elrond and Thranduil tried to draw Glorfindel into their conversation, but for 
some reason he seemed able to answer only in monosyllables. Imladris' Lord 
raised his brows and shrugged at Eryn Lasgalen's King. Thranduil smiled in 
understanding.

Suddenly the door opened and Laerlend entered.

Glorfindel's head swung toward her, and he stood. His first thought was:

~She is beautiful indeed! ~

Thranduil's daughter was dressed in a long gown of palest blue, falling in 
gentle folds from the high waist just beneath her breasts to cover her feet. The 
bodice was fitted tightly across her bosom, and silver embroidery glinted every 
time she drew a breath. Bright flowers of red, gold, orange, yellow, purple, and 
white adorned her long blonde hair, tendrils escaping the braid that trailed to 
the small of her back curled about her fair face.

Thranduil smiled proudly. She was truly beautiful, the brightest jewel of his 
court. He stood, enjoying the looks of admiration that followed her as she moved 
toward him.

Laerlend kept her eyes on her father's handsome face as she walked slowly to 
take his outstretched hand. She had been aware of Lord Glorfindel starting to 
his feet before the others and was feeling rather smug. They were all standing 
now and she basked in the feeling of being the only female in a room full of 
men. She was aware of their appreciative stares and allowed the smallest of 
satisfied smiles to touch her pink lips.

Her smile deepened as she came to stand by her father, standing on tiptoe to 
kiss his smooth cheek with affection, her bare toes just peeking out from 
beneath the hem of her gown. She was going to enjoy this more than she had 
thought possible.

"Adar," she murmured, her eyes shining up at him.

Thranduil returned her smile and took her hand in his own, turning them to face 
the others.

"Laerlend, you already know Lord Elrond and his sons," he said, and they each 
moved to kiss her warm cheek in greeting. She smiled at each of them, her eyes 
bright with the admiration that she felt for them.

Legolas glanced down at Gimli, seeing a rather flirtatious light in those hazel 
eyes that boded ill.

"Your sister is wickedness indeed," Gimli said quietly with a shake of his head, 
having seen it as well.

"I knew she would do something like this," Legolas murmured with a glance at his 
brothers. Celebross shook his silver head with resignation, and Aralith smirked, 
his lips puckering as he bit back a laugh. Things were indeed going to get very 
interesting this day.

"Lord Elrond," Laerlend was saying, her eyes gazing up at him with such 
adoration that even Thranduil was taken aback. Her eyelashes fluttered as she 
continued, "It is good to see you again after so many years."

Elrond smiled down at her, though his brows knit slightly. Surely this child 
could not be flirting with him!

"You have grown more beautiful in that time, Laerlend," he said, then wondered 
if perhaps that was the wrong thing to say as long lashes continued to flutter 
downward, pink coloring her cheeks.

She smiled shyly, then looked up at him once again.

"You are most gracious, my lord," she murmured in a soft voice.

Thranduil, disconcerted by her unexpected reaction to Elrond in particular, 
introduced her to Tellenlagor and Curon, a tight frown on his face. Once again, 
she fluttered dark lashes, and a smile danced over her full lips in a most 
becoming manner. What was wrong with the girl? She even moved away from him to 
plant a kiss on Gimli's ruddy cheek. What was she doing?

The Dwarf's eyes widened and a deep flush stained his own cheeks.

"Wicked indeed," he muttered, one hand touching the spot she had kissed.

"Laerlend," Thranduil said somewhat sharply, and she turned back to him with a 
small smile, her eyes flashing with amusement and defiance, daring him to say 
anything to her in front of his guests. He took her hand once more, his lips 
pressed in a tight, annoyed line, and they moved to stand before Glorfindel. 
"Lord Glorfindel, may I present my daughter, Laerlend. Laerlend, this is Lord 
Glorfindel of Imladris."

The moment had come and Laerlend meant to make the most of it.

"My lady," Glorfindel said in a quiet voice, taking her hand in his own and 
raising it to his lips. As he straightened, he looked into her eyes, only to 
find them focused on Elrond who stood just behind him to one side. The gold 
brows knit, and he opened his mouth to speak once again, but then Laerlend 
spoke, pulling her hand from his grasp.

"How was your journey, Lord Elrond?"

-----------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note - Well, I didn't make it to the actual betrothal yet. This chapter 
didn't exactly progress the way I thought it would. I know - another 
cliffhanger, but never fear! I have started the next chapter already! Yes, she 
is VERY wicked and rude to boot!

The flirting with Elrond was inspired by a review from Furius! Thank you!

A big THANK YOU to al, my Most Excellent Beta Reader!
-----------------------------------------------------------
  

Chapter 8 - Time for Tea

King Thranduil of Mirkwood stared in stunned silence at his daughter. What was 
she doing? He had seen the quick look of surprise and hurt on Glorfindel's face, 
and Elrond looked positively flummoxed. The Elf King's face was suffused with 
color and he cleared his throat perhaps a bit too loudly as several of the 
people in the room started slightly.

Laerlend knew her father was displeased with her behavior, and she knew she 
would have to endure a long and rather loud lecture because of it. But she also 
knew that he would not reprimand her in front of the guests. She gave Elrond one 
last coquettish glance and turned to her father. She smiled at him, her hazel 
eyes filled with girlish innocence.

"Shall I pour the tea for you?" she asked sweetly.

Legolas' eyes widened in sudden apprehension, and he darted a glance at the 
teapots. What had she done now? He looked down at Gimli, who had pursed his lips 
and narrowed his eyes, a look of suspicion on his features.

Thranduil hesitated only a moment before gesturing for them to be seated. Surely 
she would not have put something into the tea.

Laerlend's eyes sparkled with mischief as she moved gracefully to take up the 
first pot of steaming tea. Amazingly, she filled a cup and placed it in front of 
Lord Glorfindel. She smiled charmingly at him.

~She has! ~ Thranduil thought with a start. What was he to do now? What were 
they going to think? How was he going to prevent them from drinking the tea 
without making a scene of some sort?

"I hope you like the tea, Lord Glorfindel," Laerlend said smoothly, waiting for 
him to raise it to his lips.

"Thank you, Princess Laerlend," he said, smiling hesitantly and picking up the 
cup. Perhaps he had misjudged her a moment ago. She was being very kind to him 
now. She must be at least as nervous as he was. Yes, that would explain her 
rather unexpected behavior earlier.

"Lord Glorfindel!" Legolas interjected hastily. All eyes turned to him, and 
Glorfindel nearly spilled the cup of tea.

"Yes, Prince Legolas?" he said, holding the cup in his hand untasted.

Laerlend frowned, and turned to look at her brother as well.

Legolas looked from one to the other. What had he been going to say?

"Um, I was . . . just wondering . . . that is Gimli and I were wondering . . ."

The Dwarf glanced up at him, shaggy brows knit.

"We were?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Gimli we were," Legolas said pointedly.

Gloin's son stared at him, then blinked.

"Oh! Oh, yes, we were. Yes, we were indeed. We were wondering . . . we were 
wondering . . . we were wondering . . .what were we wondering, Legolas?"

Thranduil suppressed a moan, and shook his head in dismay.

~Leave it to my children to make such a wonderful impression, ~ he thought 
bleakly. At least Glorfindel hadn't tasted the tea yet.

"We were wondering," Legolas continued slowly as his mind sought to think of 
something to say. His eyes slid to his father who looked at him and raised his 
brows. Legolas grinned weakly. "We were wondering . . .what . . ."Suddenly he 
gasped. "Yes! We were wondering what Asfaloth thought of father!" He breathed a 
sigh of relief and looked over at Gimli. ~How embarrassing! ~ he thought. He 
hadn't acted this foolishly in years, and he didn't appreciate being forced to 
do so now in front of the guests merely to cover up for his sister's irritating 
pranks.

The Dwarf had one brow raised, and a puzzled look on his face.

"Asfaloth?" he murmured.

Legolas raised his brows at his friend who then nodded quickly, his face 
brightening.

"Oh, yes. Asfaloth. The horse. Of course." He cleared his throat. "And what did 
your horse think of King Thranduil, Lord Glorfindel?" he finished in a serious 
voice.

Glorfindel turned to look at Elrond who shrugged, and shook his head. He was 
just as confused as his friend.

Elladan and Elrohir knew that something was amiss, but they weren't certain just 
what. They had identical bemused expressions on their faces, and couldn't wait 
to see what would unfold.

"You want to know what Asfaloth thought of King Thranduil?" Glorfindel repeated 
slowly, looking at Mirkwood's prince and the Dwarf, placing the teacup on the 
table.

They both nodded and smiled at him.

Glorfindel frowned, his gaze sliding back to Elrond's.

Laerlend lifted her head and moved to pour a cup of tea for Imladris' lord. 
Elrond thanked her, but as he lifted his cup he saw the look of apprehension on 
Thranduil's face. He stared at the cup and frowned. Suddenly his eyes widened 
with surprise, setting it down in a hurry. Thranduil smiled at him and shrugged, 
looking anything but happy. Elrond shook his head and turned to Legolas.

"Prince Legolas," he began. "Did you by any chance make this tea?"

Legolas stared over at him in confusion.

"Did I make the tea? Nay, I did not. Why?"

Elrond raised one eyebrow in doubt. The younger Elf's blue eyes were full of 
innocence, but Elrond's gaze did not waver.

Suddenly it dawned on Legolas just what the Elf-lord was implying.

"I did not make the tea, Lord Elrond," he said in a dignified voice. "And if I 
had I certainly would never have . . ."

Elladan and Elrohir grinned at one another and reached for a teapot. They took 
the lid off one and looked inside at the contents.

"What did you put in here, Legolas?" They asked in unison. "Morn Nen water? Or 
too much Vandal Root?"

Glorfindel stared at his own cup, remembering just how close he had come to 
drinking it. He shoved the cup away from him and leaned back in his chair, his 
eyes on Thranduil's youngest son, one golden brow raised.

Legolas stared at them with disbelief.

"I did not make the tea," he repeated earnestly. He knew why they regarded him 
with such suspicion, but he had not done anything . . . this time. Surely they 
knew he had outgrown such ridiculous pranks.

Laerlend sighed heavily and shook her head.

"I made the tea," she said in a voice filled with annoyance. "Truly! I have 
never seen such behavior as this in my life. I am highly insulted that none of 
you wanted to even taste it." With that she poured another cup and sipped it 
delicately. "It is quite good you know. A recipe of my grandmother's, I 
believe."

Thranduil stared up at her, watching as she took another sip. He ground his 
teeth together to keep from saying anything. Just then the door opened and 
Celebross' wife Mirithil entered, followed closely by Milui and Duilinn who were 
bearing wooden trays on which more pots of fresh tea rested.

"Ah, I am not too late I see," Mirithil said happily, her clear green eyes 
bright and cheerful. She moved gracefully across the room considering that she 
was in the late stages of pregnancy, and bent to kiss Thranduil's cheek before 
he could rise. He smiled gratefully at her as she winked at him.

Celebross stood, as did the others, and moved to kiss his wife.

"Thank you, meleth-nin {my love}," he whispered into her ear. Mirithil gazed at 
her silver haired husband and smiled. She was a beautiful Silvan Elf with long 
flowing rich brown hair, the golden highlights glistening in the light of the 
torches and candles. She was tall and carried herself well. She laid one hand 
over her protruding belly and smiled at them all. Celebross moved to take the 
tray from Milui, who was staring unabashedly at Gimli.

Legolas was certain that the Dwarf was blushing, but he said nothing, for 
Duilinn's gaze was upon him. He smiled over at his sister-in-law who was 
efficiently switching the old teapots for the fresh ones. Mirithil had a perfect 
sense of timing.

"These must surely be cold by now," she said with a light laugh. "Tea cools 
rather quickly you know."

Laerlend watched them, her lips pouting. She had put nothing in the tea, so her 
little joke had worked to some extent, but she was not pleased to have it 
interrupted. She swallowed the last of the tea in her cup and helped Mirithil 
load the unused pots onto the trays.

Duilinn and Milui left quietly, but the sound of their hurried voices reached 
those seated about the table before the door could shut behind them.

"Didn't Gimli look very handsome with that green bow in his hair?"

"Didn't Legolas look magnificent? And didn't I tell you that Lord Glorfindel was 
beautiful?"

The door finally swung shut, cutting off the sound of their girlish chatter. 
Gimli and Legolas exchanged embarrassed glances, as Elladan and Elrohir burst 
into laughter. Tellenlagor and Curon both managed to control their own mirth by 
looking steadily at their own empty teacups.

~This day has been entirely too long already, ~ Thranduil thought, resisting the 
urge to bury his face in his hands. Oddly enough, he noted that Elrond looked to 
be thinking the same thing.

Mirithil sat beside her husband as Laerlend poured out the tea.

"The little one is finally asleep," she said with a sigh. "He always fights it 
when it is time for a nap."

"How old is little Galadh now?" Elrond asked politely, glad for a new topic of 
conversation. He still wasn't certain what had just happened, but he was certain 
that he did not want to know.

As Mirithil began to speak of their son, Laerlend seated herself between her 
father and Lord Glorfindel. Now that she was no longer the object of their 
attentions, she sat fuming quietly.

How could a group of grown males listen with such intensity and delight about 
the antics of a baby? Yes, little Galadh was very cute and a great deal of fun, 
but really!

She turned slightly in her seat so she could see Glorfindel out of the corner of 
her eye, feeling very resentful toward him at this moment. He was entirely too 
beautiful. She should have expected that, but it had still caught her off guard, 
and she had been hard pressed to keep her composure when she had first glimpsed 
him. Now Laerlend found herself wanting to gaze at him in admiration, but she 
held herself stiffly allowing no more than what she could see sitting as she 
was. Thranduil's daughter could tell that he was smiling at her sister-in-law, 
his glorious face rapt with attention.

~I wish he would smile at me like that, ~ she thought enviously, and then she 
narrowed her eyes in disgust at such a thought.

Then Glorfindel's eyes did move to her, and she found herself turning to look at 
him. He smiled gently at her, hoping to salvage something after the rather 
awkward start of their relationship. Her lips parted slightly as she gazed at 
him. His eyes were so very blue, his face so lovely, and the way the light 
played upon the long golden locks . . . . He looked as young as Legolas, which 
was unexpected: young and very fair to behold. . . She shook her head, and 
abruptly shifted her gaze Elrond.

"We all hope to be hearing news soon about a new grandchild for you, Lord 
Elrond. Though someone as youthful looking as yourself could hardly have 
grandchildren. You seem more of a brother to Elladan and Elrohir than a father."

Elladan and Elrohir glanced at one another, and quickly stifled their laughter 
as Elrond gaped at Thranduil's daughter. Aralith gazed at his sister in 
amazement. She was more audacious than he or his brothers had ever dared to be. 
He darted a glance at his father, and was not surprised to note the heightened 
color once more gracing his sire's face.

~Well, for once it is not Legolas getting into trouble, ~ Aralith thought 
ruefully.

Mirithil, watched her sister-in-law flirt boldly with Imladris Lord, while 
entirely ignoring her intended. Mirithil, who had been involved in a long 
enlightening conversation with Laerlend's three friends, allowed herself a small 
smile, one hand massaging her belly as the child kicked and moved inside her.

~Little imp! ~ she thought. ~You have chosen poor Lord Elrond because he is 
safe! He is still married to Celebrian even though she has crossed the Sea. He 
will always love her, and not be unfaithful to her. Little minx! Instead of 
choosing one of the twins, who might lead to trouble, you choose the father. ~ 
She shook her head in amazement and amusement. But when she looked to Lord 
Glorfindel, her merriment vanished.

The Elf-Lord's blue eyes were filled with hurt, hurt that had been deliberately 
inflicted by Laerlend's careless behavior. He slowly raised his cup of tea to 
his lips, his eyes fixed on nothing as he tried to ignore what was happening 
before him. Mirithil suddenly smiled at him, one hand moving to rest on 
Celebross' knee.

"I understand you sing very well, Lord Glorfindel," she said. "This babe of mine 
is very restless. Perhaps you might grace us with a song and soothe it back to 
sleep."

He looked over at her and smiled graciously. Relief was written plainly on his 
fair features as he turned to get King Thranduil's permission to sing.

"That would be very pleasant indeed," Mirkwood's ruler said hastily, also trying 
to ignore his daughter's rudeness. "Your voice is said to be very fair and even 
rival that of the great minstrel Daeron's."

Laerlend stiffened and blinked. No, she could not let him sing! It would be her 
undoing. She raised her head haughtily, hating what she was about to say, but 
knew she must say it or be lost.

"Then pray, Lord Glorfindel, do not sing a song about the glories of Gondolin. 
For we have heard nothing of late but songs of that "fair" city and its many 
heroes."

Glorfindel turned to look at her, the pain flaring in his eyes once more at the 
sarcastic tone in her voice. Then they hardened in annoyance as he inclined his 
head toward her.

"I would not presume to sing of myself, my lady. If that is what you mean."

Laerlend felt the color flare in her cheeks, but she held her head high and 
regarded him with cool eyes.

Thranduil's mouth opened in shock and Elrond blinked several times. The two 
powerful Elves stared at one another wondering how this situation had 
disintegrated so quickly.

Thranduil sighed and looked across the table at Legolas.

"Where are your black squirrels when we need them, Little Greenleaf?" he asked 
wearily, wishing that the little beasts had invaded the room to wreck havoc and 
save them this embarrassment.

"Or your spiders," Elrond said with a sigh.

Suddenly Mirithil stood.

"It is so warm in here, perhaps we should go outside. Lying in the cool grass 
beneath the trees sounds very wonderful to me right now."

Celebross rose hastily as did the others.

Mirithil smiled gratefully at them and lead them from the room, her arm entwined 
with her husband's, her head resting on his shoulder.

Legolas turned to see Laerlend refuse Lord Glorfindel's proffered arm as she 
turned and marched smartly after her sister-in-law. He shook his head.

"Perhaps we should ask the twins to join us on a hunt," he murmured to Gimli as 
they filed from the room.

"A hunt? What sort of hunt?" the Dwarf asked.

"For black squirrels of course."

"Or spiders!" Elrohir chimed in with a grin, and clapped them on the back.

-----------------------------------------------------------
Thanks to al for beta-ing this, filling it with green corrections. Green is such 
a good color! Yet I fear the commas will NEVER be right!
-----------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 9 - Songs Beneath the Spreading Branches



Legolas breathed a quiet sigh as he walked beside Gimli and the twins, following 
the rest of the party out of his father's great stone Hall. A warm summer breeze 
swirled about them as they stepped onto the emerald grass of the terrace, its 
verdure studded with small white flowers; the joyous singing of the birds 
greeted their ears, and the elusive scent of the colorful roses perfumed the 
air. All the magic of Eryn Lasgalen swelled to welcome them. Everything seemed 
to be intent on seducing Glorfindel into sensing the delights about him, except 
for the one thing that truly mattered.

Duilinn and Milui had been sent for fresh tea and pastries so they could enjoy 
their repast beneath the trees. Gwirith had been sent to find Glorfindel's 
belongings, and bring his harp so he might play and sing for them. Legolas 
wished that he had been the one sent to fetch and carry, anything to get out of 
this most uncomfortable situation that his little sister had placed them all in. 
He studied her back as she walked at Elrond's side, her arm laced through his as 
she chattered away at him like a magpie. The little imp had almost immediately 
attached herself to Imladris' Lord when they had left the Hall. Surely she had 
to know that what she was doing was extremely rude and totally uncalled for. She 
seemed unconcerned at what her behavior had done to many of them. Would she 
never learn? All she need do was look into Elrond's dark blue eyes to see the 
discomfort she was causing him.

Gimli was muttering under his breath, something in Khuzdul the Dwarvish 
language. Legolas could make out that it meant something about the stubbornness 
of certain royal Elves in his acquaintance. Legolas remembered the prickly 
beginning to their own friendship, so perhaps there was hope. As he gazed from 
his flirting sister's fluttering walk to Glorfindel's rather stiff gait, he 
wondered if there was any hope of a happy, amiable outcome. The twins exchanged 
glances, wondering if they had ever gotten into as much trouble as they knew 
Laerlend was about to get into. Though they had delighted, and still did, in 
their pranks and jests, they knew this was beyond anything they had ever done. 
Or would do. They shrugged at one another as if to say "Females! They play a 
different sort of game."

~We are not a happy group, ~ Legolas thought, suppressing another sigh. ~I can 
only hope that Glorfindel can sing away her rudeness. It would serve her right 
if he refuses to have her. I wouldn't take her after being treated in such a 
manner. Father is going to have her head if she has ruined this union with her 
thoughtlessness. ~

King Thranduil led them down a cobbled pathway that was lined on either side by 
his wife's roses. This path led to a small grove ringed with tall beech trees, 
with stands of carefully tended flowers and more rose bushes. Celevonringorn the 
Silver Circle was what Brenillass had named it so long ago. This had been the 
place where Thranduil had courted the Elf maiden that would one day be his wife 
and the mother of his children. He hoped that by bringing them all here Laerlend 
would perhaps recall what sort of lady her mother had been: gentle, kind, 
caring, and gracious. Just perhaps her daughter, who exhibited characteristics 
more like those of her father at his very, seldom seen worst, would behave with 
more decorum in this place that was so filled with of memories of her mother. 
Even though Laerlend walked behind him, he heard her voice falter slightly as 
she realized where it was they were going.

~Yes, nin iell, {my daughter}~ he thought grimly, glad that no one could see his 
face at that moment. ~I refuse to make this easy for you. If it is a game you 
wish to play, then a game you shall have. But it is a game you shall lose! ~

Mirithil sank gratefully into the cool green grass, leaning her back against the 
smooth bark of a beech tree, her eyes taking in the tall rose bushes with heavy 
blossoms humming with fat contented bees. Honeysuckle clambered over the grass, 
twining in the trees and flowering shrubs, and up the specially built trellises 
and fences, adding its delicate scent to the already heady summer air. Celebross 
sat at her bare feet, lifting them into his lap and massaging them, his blue 
eyes gazing at her with adoration and love. She sighed happily. Celevonringorn 
was a special place to them as well. Little Galadh had been conceived here 
beneath these very trees. The child's full name was Silielgaladh, Shining Tree, 
named for the place of his beginning. Mirithil smiled at her husband, feeling 
deeply contented and very happy. If only Laerlend could see past her own fears 
and doubts- and great stubbornness of will- she too might find true joy with 
Glorfindel as Mirithil had with Celebross. Her green eyes slid to where the 
Elf-lord had seated himself a bit apart from the others. She could see the 
annoyance and deep hurt that bloomed in those very blue eyes, and knew that her 
sister-in-law was treading on very dangerous ground. He was too polite to say 
anything as yet, but he would. He could not let such insults pass without a 
reprimand to her behavior. Mirithil gently touched her swollen belly, the golden 
ring on her right forefinger glinting in the sunlight.

"What will you sing for us when Gwirith returns with your harp, Lord 
Glorfindel?" she asked as her hand moved in slow circles about her round 
stomach, the babe kicking as if in anticipation of hearing his glorious voice, 
or at the joy of his parent's touch.

Glorfindel's eyes moved to gaze at her, and he smiled kindly. He felt a slight 
melancholy come over him as he watched the two lovers, noting the gentle looks, 
the touches that told of their great love and regard for one another. It seemed 
that they had achieved what he had not been aware was missing in his life until 
recently. Marriage had not entered into his thoughts much, the joining of two 
lives through love. He had always been content to be a part of Elrond's extended 
family, watching the love between his lord and his beautiful, doomed Celebrian. 
He had enjoyed every moment of seeing their three children growing into maturity 
as he had enjoyed watching others' children do the same. It had been thus with 
little Emlin and young Earendil, and the other children of Gondolin. From their 
entrance into this world, to their first smiles, the first faltering steps, and 
the first baby words, he had been a part of their lives. Now he realized that as 
wonderful as that had been, he was still only a watcher from outside. He loved 
the children dearly, but now he knew that he wanted children of his own; little 
ones looking at him with admiration and unconditional love, calling him "Ada," 
coming to him with their small hurts and disappointments, wanting him to kiss 
them away. He wanted to feel his child crawling into his bed after a bad dream, 
curling up between himself and his wife. He dropped his gaze momentarily, his 
slender fingers twining in the cool blades of grass, a feeling of deep hurt and 
disappointment sweeping over him. Had he truly thought, even for a moment, that 
Laerlend would take one look at him and fall deeply in love with him? Had he 
been that foolish? Yes, he admitted to himself, he had.

"What do you wish to hear?" he queried softly, thankful for her attempt to 
distract them all from what had happened earlier, though he knew it would not be 
so easily brushed aside, at least not by him.

"Hmmm," she sighed, still seeing the heartache written in his eyes and the way 
he sat hunched slightly as if in defeat. "A love song is always good. Or 
something fun." She knew he probably didn't wish to sing of love at this moment, 
but a good romantic song sung by any male with a lovely voice was always 
Laerlend's undoing.

"I told you," Elladan said, throwing a blade of grass at his brother. "We should 
have asked Bilbo -"

"Or Master Samwise," Elrohir chimed in, throwing the grass back at his brother.

"For a funny song," they finished together, with nods at one another.

Legolas and Gimli laughed in amusement at them, and the twins rewarded them by 
throwing grass at them. Gimli grumped as it became entangled in his luxuriant 
reddish beard.

"Never fear, Gimli," Legolas assured him in a quiet voice, his blue eyes dancing 
with mischief. "I am sure Milui will be more than happy to help you extricate 
any grass that adorns your beard. It does match your ribbon though, so perhaps 
you should leave it."

The Dwarf looked over at the two girls who were approaching them, gracefully 
balancing the well-laden trays. Well he knew that the silly Milui would offer to 
help him. She would probably go running to fetch a brush for him. He felt his 
face heat unexpectedly. That foolish Elf maiden, he thought gruffly. What could 
you possibly see in a gruff old Dwarf like me? Why should I get so flustered 
because Legolas mentions her? Foolishness!

"How are those Hobbits?" the Dwarf asked pointedly, not looking at Legolas as he 
addressed this question to the twins to Elrond. He was glad to feel the blush 
dying out of his cheeks. He would not have it said of him that he fell in love 
with an Elf maiden with hair of . . .well, her hair was not of gold. It was a 
rich auburn, not too unlike his own hair, with wonderful rich highlights of 
deepest red like the heart of a forge's fire, and yes, gold, as pure and lovely 
as Lady Galadriel's own. He shook head. He would not be so foolish as to fall 
under another Elf's spell, certainly not this slip of a girl. She could in no 
way compare with the Lady of Lorien, but . . . He growled low in his throat, 
silently cursing the Elves that seemed to ensnare members of his family so 
easily.

"Very well," the younger ebony haired son of Elrond answered with a smile as he 
edged slightly away from Laerlend, who was scowling at him rather fiercely. She 
has no sense of humor at all this day, he thought in bewilderment. "We receive 
letters from Frodo quite regularly," he continued, "telling of all that has been 
accomplished in the Shire. They are amazing creatures. Bilbo wanted to accompany 
us here, but we told him he would have to wait for the wed-" he hesitated as he 
nearly said "the wedding," knowing that perhaps this was not the correct moment 
to mention it.

An uncomfortable silence fell, and even Laerlend felt her face redden and her 
scowl deepen. Here in this place she would not say anything that would disgrace 
her mother. She knew that this was why Adar had brought them here. He had won 
this battle it seemed, but he had not won the war. It was very hard to keep her 
eyes from straying toward Glorfindel. He had such a bright presence and he was 
so very comely that she was in a constant struggle with herself to keep her eyes 
on Elrond. Inside she was panicking, though her face showed none of her 
distracted and unwanted feelings. She could not hear him sing. Well Mirithil 
knew that! It was not her new babe that needed to hear his voice, but her little 
sister-in- law who sat squirming uncomfortably. Nay, she would not hear him sing 
again! Never! She would have to think of a way to distract them, keep him from 
singing. She looked up to see Duilinn and Milui coming toward them bearing 
carved trays laden with the tea and food. Perhaps if she spilled her tea on 
Elrond, or on herself, it might work. Oh, why couldn't there be any spiders 
about now to send Aralith into hysterics, or at least to cause a diversion for 
the twins, which would cause a large diversion for the rest of them? They would 
certainly want to pursue it. That was all they had ever talked of when they were 
younger. If only they had known about that one silly spider that Legolas had -

Suddenly the sounds of three very diverse voices were heard coming toward them 
through the trees. One was a fair soprano, clear and silvery as a bell; a 
melodious tenor, one often heard singing to the trees and stars; the third, 
changed with years of practice to a deep baritone that held something Elvish 
about it, yet it was quite unlike any other voice heard in Eryn Lasgalen, and it 
was never destined to be entirely Elvish. They were singing a rather silly song, 
causing the twins to grin at one another and then gaze at Legolas, their eyes 
bright with merriment. Gimli snorted with laughter and slapped his friend 
heartily on the back. Elrond grinned as well in spite of Laerlend's too close 
proximity, and looked to Thranduil, who had one golden eyebrow raised. The King 
of Eryn Lasgalen chuckled anyway, Curon and Tellenlagor joining him. Mirithil 
and Celebross smiled and laughed with delight, Mirithil clapping her hands. 
Aralith shook his head, and lay back on the grass gazing at the sky thinking 
what a strange gathering this was becoming. Even Laerlend couldn't suppress the 
smile that spread over her lips. Glorfindel glanced over at Legolas, and the two 
smiled at one another as the three approached slowly, knowing quite well that 
the others had seen them and were watching their arrival with anticipation.

Eryn Lasgalen's third prince reddened slightly upon hearing the words that were 
being sung. Then he laughed and shook his head. It was a song called "Ode to a 
Singing Orc Princess." Gimli had made quite certain that everyone knew of the 
Legend of the Singing Orc Princess as told to the Fellowship by Boromir as they 
had rested in Hollin near the beginning of their quest to destroy the One Ring. 
Legolas had been mortified that something that had happened so many years before 
had become a legend amongst the Orcs that lived near Gondor. Who would have 
thought that three silly young Elves would be mistaken for a Singing Orc 
Princess and her attendants by a group of wandering Orcs from the Misty 
Mountains? Now a song had been written about it, by an Orc no less, and it was 
sung on occasion for the amusement of them all.

The three singers approached the group seated in the grass, their forms as much 
of a study in contrast as were their voices. Gwirith's beautiful face was 
wreathed in smiles as she walked beside her companions, her slim arms laced with 
theirs. Her long spill of dark gold hair swung at her hips, some twining with 
this one's rich brown, and the other's now waist length black hair. In this 
one's free arm was cradled Glorfindel's harp still wrapped in its protective 
ebony leather covering embroidered with golden flowers and vines. Legolas rose 
gracefully and moved to meet them grinning widely.

Elrond smiled at Thranduil, who shook his head in bemusement and delight.

"Mae Govannen, Elu Heneb," Oropher's son called. "It is good to see you again."

The Orc felt an overwhelming sense of happiness and acceptance that he had 
yearned for his entire life sweep over him at the Wood Elf King's words. It had 
taken years for Thranduil to look upon him with anything but loathing and 
distrust, until that fateful day during the War of the Ring in Gwaeron (March) 
of 3019 when forces from Dol Guldur had attacked Thranduil's realm. The Elves 
had been able to defeat the Orcs and other forces from that dark tower, but with 
great loss. Elu had been gravely injured and nearly died proving his devotion to 
his adopted kin, the Elves of Mirkwood. From that day onward Thranduil knew 
where the Orc's loyalty lay, and they all at last had truly accepted him as a 
Warrior of Mirkwood.

He gazed at the assembled group. He knew them all and felt a special affection 
for several of them. Elrond had taught him the healing arts during his stay in 
Rivendell; he had made a treacherous journey across Caradhras with Glorfindel to 
Lorien after Gandalf's fall in Moria; Mithrandir had always viewed him as a 
wonder and had been kind to him from the very first. Of them all though it was 
Legolas that he held in highest regard and love. He carefully handed Gwirith the 
harp before embracing the Elf, lifting him off the ground in a bear hug.

"Legolas Elvellon!" he exclaimed happily, a wide grin splitting his face.

When he was once more placed on his feet, Legolas returned the embrace and then 
moved to greet his young friend. Aralas was the son of Sylvan Elves named 
Erioduin and Niphredil. Erioduin had been disappeared one night while on watch 
near the southern reaches of Thranduil's realm. Ever a fey and wild creature, 
Nephredil had gone off in search of him. She had been ever a wanderer and often 
carried away by her whims in the past, but she had never returned this time. 
Tanglinna had gladly taken the child in as his parents were the only family the 
boy had. Thranduil had rejoiced to see it, for an air of lightheartedness and 
happiness had filled the old archer's life after the child entered it. Aralas, 
who had inherited his mother's rich gold-flecked green eyes that shone now with 
happiness, embraced his friend.

"Meren govadiel, Aralas(Joyous meeting)," Legolas said with a smile. "I can't 
wait to hear of all your adventures with Elu."

Aralas grinned at him, and laughed.

"And I cannot wait to tell them to you." He turned slightly and was caught in a 
fierce embrace by Thranduil, who kissed his forehead.

"Welcome home, land-heneb min (wide-eyed one)," the king whispered, enfolding 
the young one into his arms once more. Tanglinna's adopted child was filled with 
the wonder of the world about him, and had ever been. This was something that 
Tanglinna had fostered in him, finding new joy in the rediscovery of so many 
things that had lost their charm when his wife and son had died.

The trees and birds and the small things of the forest were all Aralas' friends, 
and he was found ever in their company, chattering away quietly or singing "with 
them" as he was often heard to say. The fear of his wandering off to never 
return filled Thranduil with dismay, but he didn't appear to have inherited his 
mother's wanderlust as yet. He was all that remained of his friend and former 
Master Archer, even if the child wasn't his by blood. Aralas' forays were 
usually confined to the reaches of Eryn Lasgalen, and always he returned home, 
happy and bursting with tales to tell and songs to sing. It would be hard enough 
to lose Legolas to the sea-longing without wondering if Aralas too, would 
disappear into the trees as his father and mother had.

While Thranduil led the youth to greet their guests, Legolas turned to the Orc.

"Of all the songs that you have written Elu," Legolas said in a low, 
mirth-filled voice, "why did you choose that one?"

The Orc laughed lightly, one arm draped companionably about his friend's 
shoulders.

"I think it did what was required, Legolas Elvellon," he answered in a voice 
just as quiet. "I thought you were the one for playing pranks and tricks, but I 
see your tithen gwathel (little sister) has taken it one step further."

"Or two," Legolas whispered with a grimace as he glanced at her. "Or perhaps 
three. Thank you, my friend. Your song is very welcome and much appreciated . . 
.even if I wish you could have sung of some other subject."

"Another subject, Elvellon? Hmm . . . Perhaps we could have sung 'Legolas the 
Sparkly Green and the Lost and Wandering Dwarf'." He turned to wink at Gwirith, 
whose musical giggles filled the air. "I have been trying to teach Lindir to 
sing that one with me and Aralas, but he spends more time laughing than 
singing."

Legolas smiled, picturing the young, lighthearted Elf. The year before, he had 
wed his beloved Meneliell, and she was expecting their first child. They were 
planning on naming him Brethilmist, after one of Legolas' best friends that had 
been slain on that fateful night when Orcs had attacked Thranduil's realm to 
bring about the escape of the creature Gollum whom the Wood Elves had been 
watching for Mithrandir and Aragorn. Brethil had indeed been full of life and 
laughter, as well as his renowned "wandering" tongue. Legolas smiled, 
remembering the rambling monologues that Brethil excelled at. Much had been lost 
on that night, but even as Legolas remembered with lingering loss the three 
slain beneath the great oak tree Beleg Doron, he also recalled all the good 
times that they had experienced together throughout their lives. It would be 
with joy that he would greet the little Elfling when he was born.

Elu had greeted the individual members of the private party, moving last to 
Glorfindel. The tall golden Elf-lord rose gracefully to his feet and embraced 
the Orc as easily as he would any Elf. They held one another out at arm's length 
and smiled.

"Le ni Balrog Dagnir, Malthenfinnel (You are a Balrog Slayer, Golden Hair or 
Goldilocks. Gar-le malthen lam ath echad-le gell or-he. (You have {a} golden 
voice {that} will make you triumph over her. ). Sin tithen, breg Balrog al-ath 
orteli le (This small, fierce Balrog will not overcome you)" Elu whispered into 
the pointed ear as he pulled the Elf into one more embrace.

Glorfindel smiled wryly at the sentiment and then laughed, wondering if the Orc 
had just given him one small key to the girl's heart.

"He al-ath nair gar-im meldiron mav-le" (She will not when I have (a) great 
friend like you)," he whispered back.

The two stood smiling at one another, then turned to look down at Laerlend who 
had stood to greet Tanglinna's adopted child. Aralas then moved to sit 
comfortably by the king, his quiet, excited voice chirping away. He knew that 
Thranduil would always welcome his tales of adventures, and the things the trees 
had told him in his travels. Laerlend had caught the word Balrog in the 
whispered exchange between Glorfindel and Elu, and wondered what that could have 
meant, and why were they looking at her? She didn't like the slow, sly smile 
that crept over Glorfindel's beautiful face or the look of mischief in the Orc's 
blue eyes.

A le (And you), Elu? she thought, narrowing her eyes. You will stand with him as 
well, will you? Well, none of you will be able to defeat me. Nothing will make 
me love him. They couldn't be comparing ME to a Balrog . . . could they? A pout 
marred her face as she turned away from them deliberately, but not before she 
had seen the smiles of triumph on their faces as they stood with their arms 
draped about one another's shoulders. She found herself staring into Aralas' 
sparkling Sylvan eyes. She snorted slightly, shifting her eyes to stare at the 
sprinkling of small yellow flowers in the grass at her feet.

Elu took the harp from the smiling Gwirith and handed it with a graceful bow to 
Glorfindel.

"I believe you were about to sing, Lord Goldilocks," he said with a grin, then 
moved to sit by Legolas and Gimli.

"Yes," Glorfindel answered with another glance at Laerlend, as he seated himself 
upon the grass and deftly removed the harp's cover. "I was."

-----------------------------------------------------------
Author's Notes

First I apologize for the very long space of time that has passed since I last 
posted. RL was quite hectic and I did not have time to do what I wanted to do, 
only what I HAD to do. Things have returned to what passes for normal, so I HOPE 
sincerely that I won't keep you waiting that long again! ^_^

To everyone who has not read the author's "Orc Stories" and thinks that I have 
lost my marbles by writing about a "good" Orc, well . . . maybe I have lost my 
marbles. <g> Elu Heneb has a long history in my LOTR universe with Legolas. They 
had many good times as well as many painful times. It was not an easy 
friendship, but it has managed to survive the many obstacles in its way. Elu is 
an unusual Orc and I hope you will give him a chance even if he is, well, an 
Orc. Those stories are undergoing some revision right now to bring all my fics 
into line with one another.

As to the reference to the Singing Orc Princess, this refers to something that 
happened in my other fic "In the Hall of the Wood Elf King" - one of Legolas' 
Embarrassing Moments. <g> The Legend as told by Boromir is in my other fic "Once 
Upon A Time In Hollin". It seems that a group of Orcs had come upon a beautiful 
golden haired Singing Orc Princess in Mirkwood. They were certain that the "Evil 
Elves" had captured her and forced her to stay there. Because of her fairness 
the of course fell in love with her, marveling at her strength and wildness when 
"she" fought them off. Only it wasn't an Orc Princess you see, it was a certain 
Elf prince trying to rectify some of the consequences that occurred due to some 
of the 'pranks' and silliness he had gotten into. ^_^ Welcome to my LOTR 
universe.

Brethilmist means "beech or birch (take your choice) wandering". There was no 
word that I could find for rambling so I chose wandering.

Also my Lindir is NOT Lindir of Rivendell though he will be appearing in this 
story later. My Lindir is an Elf of Eryn Lasgalen. That might confuse things a 
bit, but we shall see. <g>

Many thanks to al my beta reader for "greening my rough draft." She now thinks I 
have a comma-phobia. The cure was a little too good and I seem to have gone the 
other direction. 0_0
-----------------------------------------------------------

 

Chapter 10 - A Love Song If You Please, Lord Goldilocks!



Laerlend watched as Glorfindel's slender hands removed the elegant black cover; 
the golden embroidery glinted in the summer sun, not unlike the way the light 
seemed to play across his own lustrous hair. She was not going to be able to 
prevent him from singing, and a small, weary sigh escaped her lips. She glanced 
over at her three friends who were setting out the tea things. Their eyes were 
carefully averted, but she could see the amused expressions on their faces. It 
seemed that everyone had deserted her. She knew that her rudeness would not go 
unchecked for long, though no one had as yet said anything to her. . . not 
directly. The princess turned her head ever so slightly so she could see her 
father out of the corner of her eye.

Thranduil was reclining comfortably on the cool grass, his long legs stretched 
out before him, ankles crossed, his handsome face lit with pleasure as he 
listened to some small adventure that Aralas was relating. Tanglinna's adopted 
son's golden green eyes were bright, his fair features animated with excitement, 
and excitement at the pleasure of being home once more. Laerlend allowed a smile 
when she caught the word "trees." Aralas was ever taken with his trees, and 
could talk endlessly about them and the things the trees had told him. She knew 
that it was his dearest wish to travel to Fangorn, though she doubted that her 
father would allow it anytime soon. She knew that it hurt Thranduil greatly to 
know that Legolas had felt the Call of the Sea, and several of his people had 
already traveled west on that last journey through Ennor. Thranduil wanted his 
children ever about him now, knowing that one day he would lose one of them to 
that siren call. She knew that her father considered Aralas as nearly one of his 
own. He had taken Aralas' under his wing after Tanglinna's death, showering all 
the love and friendship he had felt for the Master Archer on his adopted child. 
Her eyes moved away from them to the trees surrounding them, their bark so 
silvery and smooth. She wondered what her father and Aralas were saying now.

~A new topic of conversation might be amusing, ~ she thought, as her eyes moved 
to the stands of flowers across from where she sat.

Laerlend's mother had loved this garden, and tended it with her own hands; each 
plant had been specifically chosen by her, whether for the beauty of its smell, 
or that it was fair when looked upon. The roses and honeysuckle were blooming in 
profusion, filling the air with their warm heady scent; tall spikes of dark 
purple irises stood amidst the blue forget- me-nots; rounded clusters of bright 
scarlet bee-balm added their crisp minty smell to the perfume of Brenillass' 
garden; lilies of white, orange, pink, and rich yellow added color for the eyes 
to feast upon. Bleeding hearts hid their drooping heads of red and white shyly 
between the trees and beneath the protective stands of holly. Bushy herbs for 
both medicinal and culinary purposes stood in bushy clumps, adding their scent 
and richness to the scene. The purple blossoms of the Spiderwort plants were 
seen scattered about the garden as well. Brenillass had been amused by the name 
of that particular plant, and felt it fit perfectly in her garden.

Seated beside some of these very plants, Glorfindel ran his hand down the pillar 
of his small harp, his fingers tracing the delicate carvings of small flowers 
painted in gold entwined in green leafy vines. Loriollam (Voice of the Golden 
Flower) was a beautiful instrument, specifically crafted in Gondolin for him by 
Lindelor of the House of the Harp. One slender, sensitive finger circled over a 
small flaw in the lower corner: one small, bright petal was missing, the only 
testament to the perilous journey it had survived when the Gondothlim had fled 
their fallen city. Lindelor, a cousin of Salgant the Lord of the House, had been 
a great friend of Glorfindel's, as well as his instructor of the harp. The 
picture that came to the Elf-lord's mind was of Lindelor sitting in a shaft of 
sunlight where he perched upon a window seat, his curtain of dark hair spilling 
to one side as he sat with head atilt, his own harp Melyanna (Dear Gift) cradled 
against him, making the most glorious music ever heard. It had been a joy and a 
delight to the people of Gondolin to hear Lindelor playing his harp in 
accompaniment to the singing of the Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the 
Fountain.

~I fear I cannot do justice to either of you, my teachers, and this audience 
will be more exacting than most, ~ Glorfindel thought with a wry smile, as his 
fingers moved lightly over the strings, his eyes touching briefly on Laerlend. 
As he tuned his beloved instrument, his eyes slid to where the three of 
Laerlend's friends had seated themselves a little apart from the others. They 
made a charming picture, dressed in bright summer colors with flowers twined in 
flowing locks that fell over shoulders bared to the sun's kiss. He smiled over 
at them, and felt a measure of satisfaction when they twittered and blushed in 
such a becoming manner. He was aware of Laerlend's frown of disapproval at her 
friends' behavior, and his smile widened. Why would she react that way if she 
had no regard for him? He decided to pursue this amusement a bit further. He 
glanced over at Thranduil, and cleared his throat.

"I do not believe that I have been introduced to our new guests," he began, 
hearing the quick intake of breath from one that had been staring at him 
unabashedly, her blush complimented by her spill of rich dark-blonde hair.

Thranduil turned slightly to look at them. He nodded and introduced the three, 
also quite well aware of how they were reacting to all the attention suddenly 
heaped upon them.

~Why can't Laerlend react this way? This is the way maidens are supposed to act, 
isn't it? All silly and giggly? Is it perhaps because she was raised in a 
household of males? Is that why her behavior is so unfeminine? She hasn't always 
been thus. No, she used to be something of a flirt. When did that stop? ~ He 
couldn't recall, and he shook his head, hoping that the slight pressure in his 
temples was not signaling an oncoming headache.

"Gwirith, Duilinn, and Milui," Glorfindel repeated the maidens' names 
accompanied by a cascade of notes on his harp. "What beautiful names for such 
beautiful ladies; a butterfly, a swallow, and one who is friendly, loving, and 
kind. You seem to be true to your names, O Fael Minrim (O Fair Ones)."

Giggling twitters rewarded him, reminding him of happy little birds, and he 
smiled once more. He was aware of Laerlend's frown as she turned to glare at the 
three. The boldest of them merely shrugged and leaned forward even more, her 
eyes glued to the golden Elf-lord. Glorfindel smiled at her, exuding all the 
charm he possessed, and it was considerable. The maiden's eyes widened in 
surprised delight, and a fair blush rose to her cheeks.

Mirithil turned to look at her husband, and Celebross shrugged and grinned.

"Turn about is fair play, meleth-nin (my love)," he answered quietly, his hand 
gently massaging her swollen belly. "Perhaps this will rouse her own jealousy, 
and make her look more kindly on him."

"Perhaps," she murmured, bending forward to kiss him on the cheek. "This will be 
a most interesting day. I only hope that our dear Adar can survive it." Her eyes 
moved to where Thranduil sat, his face lit with pleasure once more over the 
quiet comments of Aralas, but she could see the annoyed alertness lurking behind 
his blue eyes. She sighed softly. "It would be so much easier for them both if 
she would just stop being so very stubborn! But," her full lips curved into a 
smile as her eyes met her husband's, "it seems to be a family trait."

Celebross looked at her with an expression of mock hurt on his fair face, his 
hand pressed to his heart.

"You wound me to the quick, malthen-rhosg feredir (golden-brown hunter)," he 
murmured using his old nickname for her, as he tugged gently at one trailing 
golden brown lock of her hair. She had indeed hunted him, and he had been gladly 
caught.

Mirithil smiled again, her fingers caressing his cheek.

"I would have it no other way, nin celeb caun (my silver prince)." Her fingers 
twined in his silver locks, their eyes locking in one fierce glance of love and 
desire.

"Oh no," Aralith sighed with an amused grin. "They are playing with each other's 
hair again."

Legolas choked back a laugh, glancing at Gimli who smiled.

"'Tis a strange thing, the relationship you Elves have with your hair," he said, 
stroking his beard as he watched the two Elves kiss tenderly before they smiled 
over at the others.

"Yes, not unlike the one you Dwarves have with your beards. Your women have them 
too, yes?" Legolas asked, with raised brows.

"Hmph. Beards are very becoming, and it is a pity that you hairless- chinned 
Elves can't see that."

"I see it," Milui said quietly, with a smile for Gloin's son.

Gimli's cheeks flared crimson, and his gaze dropped to the ground as he muttered 
gruffly about silly Elven maidens, but Legolas knew that he was secretly pleased 
by all the attention the girl lavished upon him.

~How very odd, ~ he thought, with a shake of his head. Then he recalled Gloin's 
own "love sickness" over another Elven "maiden." ~Or perhaps not. ~

"Ah," Elladan sighed, looking at the sky with eyes filled with tenderness. " 
Love is in the air, eh, Elrohir? Can't you just feel it? It makes one feel all 
warm and fuzzy inside, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes, Elladan," Elrohir said, grabbing his brother's arm. "I love you so, 
nin mell gwador (my dear brother)!"

"And I you, nin lend gwador (my sweet brother)!" Elladan chirped, gazing into 
his brother's eyes.

Elrond scowled and turned to them. Honestly, he should have known that the good 
behavior wouldn't last long.

"What did I tell you, nin ionnath (my sons)?" he said in a low voice, his brows 
lowered in annoyance.

"I know we promised to behave for one entire day, Adar. Do you mean to say that 
it isn't tomorrow already? Surely we have sat here in this beautiful Greenwood 
grass for *at least* a day, waiting on Lord Glorfindel to sing a song," Elladan 
said with dark blue eyes so filled with innocent mischief that Elrond felt a 
wayward smile tugging at his lips.

"Surely it is at least *two* days since we arrived here," Elrohir said, his gaze 
moving to his teacher, who had finished tuning the harp and was watching them 
with amused eyes. "Will you sing, please, Lord Glorfindel?"

"I will, young one. I merely need the right song. Do you have any suggestions? 
Or perhaps one of the lovely ladies does." He smiled at the three maidens once 
more, and Gwirith fairly quivered with excitement.

"A love song!" all three females gasped out in high, fair voices, echoed by 
Elladan and Elrohir in even higher, somewhat less fair voices.

Duilinn's eyes touched the golden Elf-lord's, then slid to Legolas whose own 
eyes widened, and he flushed slightly as he looked away. Aralith laughed at him, 
and plucked a small flower from the ground and threw it at him. Milui was 
staring unabashedly at "her Dwarf," who began muttering under his breath once 
more in Khuzdul, his cheeks and eyes shining.

"Oh, very well," he said suddenly. Then his deep voice raised several octaves as 
he chirped, "A love song if you please, Lord Goldilocks."

Laughter filled the clearing as all enjoyed the light mood, all except Laerlend. 
She scowled, and turned to glare at Gwirith, Duilinn, and Milui who had started 
this nonsense. Her arm slid through Elrond's, causing the Lord of Imladris to 
start, take her hand, pat it in a fatherly manner, and then deposit it onto her 
own lap.

"Love songs are always appropriate when in mixed company," Glorfindel said, 
smiling at the three once again. "Perhaps you will enjoy this one." And Lord 
Goldilocks' filled the air with one of the purest voices that had ever existed 
on Ennor.

Laerlend would have stopped her ears with her hands if she hadn't known that 
retribution for that act would be swift and highly unpleasant. She turned the 
force of her gaze onto Lord Elrond, who began to inch slowly away from her. This 
caused Thranduil to scowl fiercely at her, his golden brows rising in the 
familiar gesture termed "the wigglies" by Laerlend so many years ago. Her mouth 
turned down, her lips thrusting out in a pout that would have been becoming if 
her eyes weren't so full of frustrated anger at this uncomfortable situation 
over which she had no control. Even as she made an effort to "not hear" the song 
he sang, she was captured once more by his voice. She lifted her gaze slightly 
to observe the singer from beneath her lashes, and she instantly regretted it. 
Glorfindel's blue eyes had been on the three girls who were twittering quite 
happily, Gwirith's eyes glued on him, as the other two were admiring the objects 
of their own affections. As Laerlend's eyes rose to him, he seemed to sense her 
as if touched, and his gaze was immediately upon her, so blue and so. . . 
intense that she gasped slightly, Laerlend's eyes widening in surprise at the 
force of this most unfamiliar sensation. Then his mouth quirked in a satisfied 
smile, and his eyes moved once more to Gwirith. Laerlend ground her teeth, and 
nearly muttered aloud, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

~No, ~ she thought, feeling very furious with herself and "Lord Goldilocks." ~I 
am NOT jealous at all! This burning is NOT jealousy! It is. . . it is. . .I know 
not what it is, nor do I care! ~

A small growl did escape her throat, and several pairs of bright Elvish eyes 
turned to look at her. Her face reddened uncomfortably, and she refused to 
acknowledge any of them.

Glorfindel finished the song, ending it with a flourish on his harp that would 
have made Lindelor quite proud of his former student had he heard it. Applause 
and words of appreciation followed and he tipped his head graciously. His eyes 
slid over Laerlend, and he was gratified to see the angry, confused look on her 
fair face. It pleased him, but he felt wearied by this already. He much 
preferred outright and honest confrontations, not this playing of games that he 
was being forced to participate in. But so be it. He smiled at them, and began 
another song.

Elu sat watching the various faces about him. A slightly confused look graced 
the Orc's own face. Legolas, the twins, Curon, Tellenlagor, Prince Aralith, 
Aralas, and the mil-aewen (love birds) as he called Celebross and Mirithil all 
looked highly amused by the proceedings. King Thranduil looked slightly angry, 
and that was *not* a good thing. Laerlend's friends looked positively giddy with 
delight, and Gimli's face looked as though he was highly amused and slightly 
embarrassed at the same time.

And Lord Elrond. . . he looked very. . . Elu could think of no other word for it 
but uncomfortable. In all his time studying the healing medicine with the Elven 
lord, he had never seen him look uncomfortable, not this sort of discomfort 
anyway. He suspected that it had something to do with the princess' behavior. He 
didn't understand Laerlend's flirtatious attitude when it came to the looks she 
occasionally threw Lord Elrond's way. He of course understood how she might find 
him admirable, he found his former teacher quite an admirable person himself, 
but this was entirely different.

He recalled that Legolas had joked about the golden flower necklace that 
Laerlend had requested from Nodfang, a Dwarf that had visited one spring. 
Supposedly she had flirted with him as well, but she had been naught but a 
child, so that was perhaps understandable. She had been enamored of Lord 
Glorfindel then too, so why this seeming reluctance now that what had once been 
her dream was coming true? And why did she look as though she wanted to marry 
Lord Elrond instead? He still didn't entirely understand the workings of the 
Elvish mind, and he doubted that he ever would. After the song, his thoughts 
still twisting about all he knew, or thought he knew, he frowned and turned to 
address her.

"Princess? Whatever became of the golden flower necklace the Dwarf made for you? 
It would have been an appropriate adornment for today."

Laerlend's eyes flew open and she turned to stare at him in shock, her cheeks 
flaming a becoming rose color.

Legolas felt surprised laughter bubble in his chest as he turned to look at the 
Orc. No one else would have mentioned the necklace, or at least not in front of 
Glorfindel on the day of his arrival. Or in front of Laerlend for that matter, 
for fear of her rending their head from their shoulders with her bare hands. The 
twins stared at him, their eyes full of questions. Elrond raised one brow, and 
turned to look fully upon the girl seated at his side. Aralith did laugh, and 
this caused Aralas to giggle slightly.

"I had forgotten that necklace," he murmured quietly.

"Dwarf necklace?" Gimli said, sitting straighter and staring at her with 
interest. "You have a Dwarf crafted necklace, Princess Laerlend? I would love to 
see it. It must be a beautiful piece of work indeed."

Thranduil smiled, quite pleased with this turn of events. He couldn't have 
planned it better himself. He must remember to thank Elu later. The Orc was the 
only one of them that could have brought up the subject of the Golden Flower 
necklace and escaped unscathed. He gazed serenely over at his daughter.

"That is right, Laerlend. The beautiful golden necklace shaped like the one you 
thought Lord Glorfindel might have. Nodfang made it for you, did he not? It was 
quite a beautiful piece of work. Elu is correct. It would have been most 
appropriate to don it this day."

Laerlend thought it impossible for her face to feel any hotter or become any 
redder than it already was, but she soon found this was not the case. She stared 
at her father in disbelieving embarrassment. She knew that she would pay for her 
rudeness in some way, but this was not the way it was to be! That silly necklace 
was to be her undoing! What had she been thinking when she asked that Dwarf to 
make "a necklace of golden flowers like the one Glorfindel has?"

"I. . . I lost that many years ago. I really haven't thought of it in some 
time!" she protested with a shake of her head, her fingers knotting on her gown. 
She was glad that her face was already scarlet as it helped to cover the slight 
falsity of her statement. She was infinitely glad that no one had seen her the 
night before, standing before her mirror, the necklace held to her throat.

At that moment Sellond, Laerlend's childhood nurse, came into the garden. She 
smiled when they acknowledged her presence, and moved forward, eyes bright with 
happiness.

"I have finished polishing this, Princess, just as ordered." She held up a 
gleaming golden necklace shaped liked linked golden flowers copied by a Dwarven 
craftsman to resemble the ones on the banner of Los'Loriol, the House of the 
Golden Flower.

Glorfindel raised his golden brows in surprise, his blue eyes going from the 
necklace in Sellond's hands to Laerlend. Faint hope stirred in his heart. 
Perhaps there was hope for this after all.

Celebross turned to look at Mirithil, expecting her to be as pleasantly amazed 
as he was by this turn of events. But his beloved merely looked very, well, 
self-satisfied. He stared at her for a moment, and then bent to whisper in her 
ear.

"You did this, didn't you?" he chuckled, his eyes returning to his sister who 
sat fuming in uncomfortable silence. "You little minx! I knew there was a reason 
I loved you!"

She turned to look up at him.

"Just one, meleth-nin (my love)?" she murmured with a smile.

"Nay," he amended. "I meant to say one *more*."

*TBC*
-----------------------------------------------------------
Author's Notes

Lord Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain and Lord Salgant of the House of the 
Harp belong to Master Tolkien and can be found in "The Book of Lost Tales 2." 
Lindelor is a creation of my own.

HUGE thank you to al, my beta! Okay, so the chapter in "Elrond" was a fluke. :( 
I think all the commas stayed over there. I am so sorry!!
-----------------------------------------------------------




  Chapter 11 - Conversations 

Author's Note -I would like to reiterate that this is very AU. I have bent and 
or broken the timeline of the books entirely, as I could not figure out a way to 
do all I wished. I apologize to canon purists for this, but I found it quite 
unavoidable. Also the last two chapters have had a minor alteration in them. You 
don't need to reread them at all since it merely concerns the OC of Aralas. He 
has become the son of a Wood Elf named Erioduin and Niphredil. Tanglinna the 
Master Archer fostered him after his parents' disappearance. That is all. :)

Special thanks to:

Andrea - for the lovely picture of Laerlend! It is hanging on the wall by my 
computer. Now please, please, please! Send the one you have done of Glorfindel! 
;)

Marnie - for the advice given on how to handle problem OC's. I must say that it 
worked wonderfully. Laerlend, Glorfindel, and I thank you. :)

As always al my beta! Thank you for continuing to put up with me! I don't 
deserve it!

Chapter 11 - Conversations

Elrond stood in the doorway of the room that had been prepared for Glorfindel, 
surveying his old friend quietly. Glorfindel stood silently at the window, 
gazing out over the summer-clad hill and the tall stands of trees beyond. The 
lord of Imladris could tell by the set of the broad shoulders that Glorfindel 
was not pleased with the way this day had progressed thus far. Elrond sighed 
softly, and then entered the room as he thought much the same thing.

"It is beautiful here, isn't it?" he murmured, gazing over the other's shoulder 
to enjoy the view. "How are you feeling?"

"Drauth (weary)," Glorfindel said with a sigh, his long fingers toying absently 
with the necklace of worked golden flowers that he held. It was exactly like the 
one presented to Laerlend earlier this day, only this necklace had been carried 
from Gondolin by Voronwe and given into the care of Earendil, and then to his 
sons.

Elrond's brows rose slightly. Only seldom had he heard Glorfindel speaking in 
the language of the Noldors of Gondolin. To hear him using it now showed just 
how vulnerable he was at this moment.

"How is this ever going to work?" Glorfindel continued quietly, his eyes gazing 
intently at a blue bird singing in a nearby oak tree. "I have told myself that 
if we were both willing to make this relationship work, then perhaps love could 
grow between us. I truly hoped that . . . . " He closed his blue eyes, brows 
knitting in pain. "I truly hoped that I could find love with someone after all 
this time. You will be leaving the shores of Ennor soon, and I . . . . " Slim 
fingers rose to touch his brow, then swept down over his face in a gesture of 
defeat and weariness, his eyes opening to gaze at the necklace. "Now the only 
hope I see of this happening is in a childhood trinket discarded many years 
ago."

Surprisingly, Elrond smiled slightly.

"I had forgotten about her infatuation with you when she was a child," he said, 
his eyes upon the golden necklace. "Do you remember the twins sending one of 
your pillows to Mirkwood for her with Prince Aralith that time?"

Glorfindel turned and gazed at his lord, his blue eyes touched with amusement.

"Do *you* remember?" he quipped with a grin, recalling the Dorwinion wine laced 
with water from the Enchanted River that Prince Legolas had sent as a birthday 
present one year.

"Hmph! You know perfectly well that the effects of that water wore off long ago. 
And all of you went out of your way to fill me in on everything that I had 
forgotten . . . . or slept through." Elrond chuckled and shook his dark head. 
"You can never trust what the twins might do at any given time."

Glorfindel returned the smile, and moved to lay the necklace on a small table, 
then perched on the edge of the bed opposite his friend, the blue eyes filling 
with anxiety once more.

"What am I to do?" Glorfindel said, gazing at Elrond with such distress that the 
lighthearted quip Elrond had been about to speak died on the elf-lord's lips.

Elrond folded his long fingers into a steeple, his arms resting on the chair's 
carved arms.

"I admit that this is not the reception that I had anticipated," he conceded.

Glorfindel raised one brow and said only half jestingly, "You mean you didn't 
expect Thranduil's daughter to throw herself into your arms the moment you 
arrived?"

"That is not what I meant. Well, yes, I did, but I also - "

Glorfindel chuckled suddenly as color flooded Elrond's face.

"I must admit that it is rather amusing to see you so discomfited by a mere 
maiden," he said. Then he sobered. "I know what you mean, though. It is not 
quite what I expected either. At this point I don't know what I did expect, but 
what can I do now?"

Elrond studied his friend's face for a moment before answering. The look on the 
fair features reminded him of the time that Glorfindel's memories of his former 
life had begun to haunt the elf-lord, tearing him from sleep in the night, the 
recollection of flame and destruction pounding through his mind. That had not 
been an easy time for any of them; Celebrian, big with the twins, and Elrond 
fretting over her. Elrond wondered if Glorfindel would have made it through that 
most difficult and sorrowful time if not for Celebrian's patience and love. She 
had always been a calming force in their lives. If only she were here for him to 
speak to now. He could use her wise council and gentle words.

"You could speak with her," he finally suggested. "You know, confront the beast 
face to face."

Glorfindel grinned slightly.

"I don't think I will call her a 'beast' to her face. She would be highly 
offended to hear the that the wondrous Lord Elrond has called her that."

"I suppose that she would. Hmm . . . Perhaps *I* should call her that, then she 
might leave me alone," Elrond grinned hopefully.

"She might turn her charms onto one of the twins then," Glorfindel warned.

"Hmm. . . That might be interesting. Which one do you suppose she would prefer?"

"I think she would find them rather inseparable, and knowing them they would 
make certain that she didn't know which of the 'Els' she was with."

"They still do that to me at times," Elrond confided with a grin. "You would 
think that as their adar I would, after all this time, be able to tell them 
apart."

"They revel in keeping everyone guessing."

Glorfindel fell silent, his fingers sliding over the quilted blue silk of the 
bed's comforter. Many tiny flowers had been embroidered across its surface, 
worked skillfully in gold thread. Could he speak to her after all that had 
happened? Was there anything that they could possibly say to one another to work 
some magic that was needed? He didn't know.

"I should speak with her?" he said at last, raising troubled blue eyes to his 
friend.

"It couldn't hurt," Elrond said with a shrug, trying not to see the pain in the 
other's face. "It certainly couldn't make things any worse."

Glorfindel smiled slightly at that, but the anxiety remained. He ran a fingertip 
over a flower, noting the stiffness of the thread.

"That is very true," he murmured with a sigh. "And perhaps it might resolve 
things between us. . . .one way or another."

Elrond stared at him in amazement as Glorfindel hopped to his feet and hurried 
across the room.

"You are going *now*?" he called, rising to his own feet.

"Yes, before my courage flees," Glorfindel said, gazing back at his friend with 
a tremulous grin. "This 'beast' rather scares me."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Laerlend lay across her bed staring moodily at the far wall; the ornamentations 
were too familiar to hold her attention for very long, though her eyes lit often 
upon the glint of gold on her dresser. The necklace lay there, carefully 
arranged by Sellond, a reminder of her embarrassment . . . and her behavior this 
day.

Thranduil had indeed taken her aside after the others had dispersed, but he had 
not shrieked angrily at her as she had expected and, yes, deserved. She wished 
that he had. He had merely gazed at her, his magnificent eyes filled with such 
sorrow that she felt a jolt of shock and distress knife through her.

"Laerlend," he began in a subdued tone, "I wanted to apologize to you."

The elf maiden had stared at him in amazement. He was supposed to be demanding 
an apology from *her*!

"I tried very hard to be the best parent to you that I could, to make up for 
your naneth not being here to guide you. I can see that I have failed you in 
this, and I am sorry."

It took every ounce of her self-control to not to stand gaping at him in 
surprise and anguish. She was trembling, unable to speak. She didn't burst into 
the tears that wanted to be shed until he left her, the way his broad shoulders 
slumped cutting into her already shredded heart.

She had hurried to her room, grateful that she met no one on the way, and flung 
herself onto the bed, sobbing. She could not recall a worse day in all of her 
life, with the exception of the day her naneth had died. She had lived through 
many anxieties and sorrows, but there was something about this day that battered 
at her spirit, and the worst thing was that it could have all been avoided. 
There were times when she knew her behaviour was less than satisfactory, but 
never had she ever acted so callously and so carelessly of another person's 
feelings. She knew the pain she was experiencing was born of a severe 
disappointment in herself, and of failure. She had failed her adar and her 
naneth's memory with her rudeness this day, and she had failed herself.

When at last her tears had dried, leaving her feeling wasted and still very 
fragile and distressed, she slid from the bed and moved to stand before the 
ornately carved trunk that stood beneath her window. She ran her fingers 
wistfully over the carved flowers, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her 
lips. Small flecks of gold paint still clung to some of the petals, applied so 
carefully by a young girl obsessed with one of the heroes of a vanished kingdom. 
Her father had not been pleased when he discovered her handiwork, but Tawarant 
the chest's maker had merely laughed in delight and told her that it was now 
perfect, her painting the flowers having complimented and completed it. Slowly, 
she lifted the lid and knelt before it.

Inside were her most prized possessions. The golden flower necklace crafted by 
Nodfang so long ago had been in here, carefully preserved in a velvet box 
embossed with a golden flower. In the chest's top tray were small trinkets from 
her childhood: brightly colored stones from her visits abroad; dried flowers 
pressed between the pages of book of poems; colored hair ribbons; love letters 
from the many young elves that had vied for her attention over the years; a 
small carving in the likeness of a bird, each tiny feather exquisitely crafted 
and painted. This had been a gift from Brethil, Legolas' friend. He had grown 
into such a fine carver, and she missed him horribly.

She removed the tray after sadly stroking her little bird. In the bottom of the 
chest were her larger treasures: a child's green party dress; her first pair of 
dancing slippers; her mother's favorite shawl done in shades of silver and 
green; her first bow crafted by Tanglinna the former Master Archer. She took her 
treasures out one by one, filling with the bittersweet memories they invoked. At 
last she found what she was searching for: filling nearly half the bottom of the 
trunk was a pillow covered with faded blue velvet, tiny flowers scattered like 
golden stars across it. She held the pillow in her hands gazing at it, recalling 
how very happy she was when Aralith returned from a trip with their father to 
Imladris with it. The twins had sent it to her, telling her in a very nice 
letter, which resided in the tray, that it was Glorfindel's favorite pillow and 
had come from his bed. She had slept curled against it every night for many 
years until someone had commented that it was beginning to look a bit worn. It 
had lain on her bed for more years then, to be gently stroked or cuddled until 
she had outgrown her infatuation with the golden-tressed elf- lord.

She pressed the pillow against her face, breathing deeply as though his scent 
might still cling to it. There was a soft knock at the door just then, and 
Mirithil stuck her head around it and smiled over at her sister- in-law.

"May I come in?" she asked quietly.

Laerlend felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and laid the pillow across her 
knees. Mirithil had seen her and there was no way to change that.

"Of course," she answered, one hand sliding over the velvet wistfully.

Mirithil smiled again and slipped inside, moving to carefully lower herself to 
the floor.

"This is getting more difficult every day," she said with a laugh as she made 
herself comfortable. "I will be very glad when this little one decides to come 
out."

Laerlend smiled, and gently stroked Mirithil's swollen stomach.

"It will be soon?" she said with a smile of her own.

"Yes, I believe so. Little Galadh is very excited about his 'laes' (baby). He is 
even now telling the twins all about it."

Laerlend's smile slipped slightly, and Mirithil reached over to stroke her 
cheek, her green eyes filled with compassion.

"Do you want to talk about it, sweetling?" she asked gently.

Laerlend drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then she nodded. She felt that 
if there were one person she might be able to talk to about it that was 
Mirithil. Mirithil seldom made hasty judgment calls about anyone or anything. 
She had been Laerlend's confidant for many years, and a good friend besides. Yet 
she felt a certain reluctance. She had behaved horribly and it wasn't easy for 
her to admit this failure, even to one who knew of it already firsthand.

Mirithil realized that her sister-in-law would be reluctant to touch on what had 
happened just yet, so she decided to try another subject.

"Tell me, Laerlend, what do you think of Lord Glorfindel?"

Laerlend lifted her head to gaze at Mirithil. This was not what she had expected 
her to say.

"What do you mean?"

Mirithil smiled, taking the pillow from Laerlend's hands.

"I mean," she said with her eyes sparkling, " is he everything you thought he 
would be? Or is he a bit of a disappointment? For many years he was the sun in 
your sky, and I was wondering if the reality is as good as the fantasy that you 
wove about him. I admit I felt rather sorry for him."

Laerlend cringed slightly, thinking of the rebuke that surely was about to 
appear.

"I can't imagine how anyone could live up to the dreams you had concocted around 
him. I hope that you were not too upset with what you have seen."

Laerlend blinked several times, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Well . . .," she began, her fingers trailing over the flowers on the pillow. 
"He. . . "

Mirithil leaned forward slightly in a conspiratorial manner.

"Yes?"

Laerlend gazed into her sister-in-law's emerald eyes and felt like giggling as 
if she were a silly maiden.

"He is very . . . . "

"Yes?"

"He is very. . . nice."

"Nice?" Mirithil gasped. "Nice?! Laerlend! Of course he is nice, but surely that 
is not *all* you noticed about him."

Laerlend gazed innocently at the ceiling, feeling some of the pain retreating.

"He is tall," she conceded, and then collapsed into girlish giggles as Mirithil 
groaned in mock exasperation.

The two sat giggling for a time, glad to have something to laugh about after 
such a tense morning. Finally, Mirithil said as she rose awkwardly to her feet, 
"I am going to move to your bed, Laerlend. Your floor is highly uncomfortable."

After the two had settled on the bed, Mirithil's bare feet resting in Laerlend's 
lap, Glorfindel's pillow supporting her back against the headboard, the dark 
haired elf-maid sighed and contemplated her sister-in- law.

"Now, tithen gwathel (little sister), what did you really think?"

Laerlend sighed, feeling a slight resentment at the question rising.

"I don't want to marry him," she announced, her bottom lip thrusting out and her 
eyes narrowing.

Mirithil raised one brow.

"I was not speaking of the marriage, sweetling. I understand how you must feel 
about that. It is not fair for you to be treated like a horse or a jewel to be 
bartered away or traded. You must realize that Glorfindel must feel much as you 
do. Consider what he has accomplished in his life, what must he have felt when 
Elrond his closest friend told him that he was to marry Thranduil's upstart of a 
daughter."

Laerlend growled at her, and Mirithil winked and laughed once more. It seemed 
that all of Thranduil's children enjoyed growling on occasion, much like their 
sire.

~I had not considered that, ~ Laerlend thought with a jolt of guilt. ~ I never 
wondered what he must have been feeling about this. Hmph! I probably though he 
would just be ecstatic to marry me! I am a fool! ~

"Now, sweetling, I want you to consider this," Mirithil continued in a light 
tone, knowing that at last Laerlend was thinking beyond her own hurt. "Your adar 
chose someone for you that he thought you would *like* to married to. Or is 
there someone that I do not know about? Is there some young warrior that has 
stolen your heart away?"

"No, there is no one that I am . . . 'sweet on,' Miri," she answered with a 
smile.

"Well then, I think your adar feels that he has chosen someone whom he thought 
you would like to be joined with."

Laerlend's cheeks flared crimson, and Mirithil laughed with delight.

"I didn't mean *that*, you silly child! Though I suppose I could have. Naughty 
girl," she reproved with a wink. "I merely meant someone you would want to share 
your life with."

Laerlend smiled with embarrassment, gazing up at Mirithil from beneath her 
lashes.

"I know what you meant, gwathel (sister)," she said, shaking her head to rid it 
of such wayward thoughts.

Mirithil grinned and shifted her bulk slightly.

And now, back to my question: what do you think of him? Other than he is nice 
and tall. . . and that you might want to join with him."

"Miri!" Laerlend hissed, but felt warmth creep back into her cheeks once more.

"Do you not find him very fair? I do."

"I thought you only had eyes for my silver-haired brother," Laerlend said, 
sounding affronted.

Mirithil chuckled, and twined one finger through a long dark lock of her hair.

"I love your brother dearly, and I would never choose another over him, but that 
does not mean that I do not acknowledge beauty in others when I see it. But 
sweetling, you are still trying to dance about my question. It is almost as 
though you fear to think of him at all! You know I can be just as stubborn and 
immovable as your adar when I choose. Or as you."

Laerlend began to gently massage her sister-in-law's feet as she contemplated 
the avoided question.

"I. . . I did find him fair," she finally murmured. "Very fair, much more than I 
had even imagined. The pictures of him from the books," she tilted her head 
toward the small table by the bed, "do not do him justice."

Mirithil kept her features schooled to neutrality as her gaze slid to the pile 
of books stacked there. She recognized the well-worn little volumes immediately. 
All contained some tale or song concerning the Lord of the House of the Golden 
Flower.

"So he is nice, tall, you might want to join with him, fair. . . anything else?" 
she prompted, plucking up the book on the top of the stack bound in rich blue 
leather: History of Gondolin. She leafed through the pages while Laerlend's eyes 
became soft and dreamy. Mirithil smiled as the book naturally fell open to a 
page on which Glorfindel's name figured prominently.

"Well," Laerlend said slowly, her gaze fixed on the curtain billowing gently at 
the open window, "he does sing very well."

"I was wondering if you might mention that," Mirithil said with a smile. "He 
certainly has a golden tongue."

"He plays the harp very well."

"Yes, his fingers seem very skilled."

"He dresses nicely."

"He looks very nice in dark grey. Imagine what he will look like in blue!"

"Blue, yes. His eyes . . . . Oh, Miri," Laerlend sighed. "He is so much more 
than anything I ever dreamed! And all I have done is hurt him!" Suddenly, she 
burst into tears.

Mirithil sighed sympathetically, and stroked the bent blonde head.

"Come here, tithen gwathel. Here, child."

Laerlend moved up the bed to lean against Mirithil's shoulder, sobbing 
disconsolately. Mirithil held her gently, stroking her hair and murmuring quiet 
reassurances. When at last her sobs died away, Mirithil rummaged in the bed 
table's drawer and drew out a handkerchief, handing it to the younger female.

"What am I to do, Miri? I don't want him to hate me! And Lord Elrond - oh! Lord 
Elrond! He must think me very foolish."

"Perhaps," Mirithil conceded, "but you may yet be able to remedy this."

"I don't see how," Laerlend sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I was horrid! And Adar 
never yelled at me!"

Mirithil chuckled and patted Laerlend's arm, knowing that this most unusual 
situation must have shown her just how grave her adar considered this situation.

"I think you should speak with Lord Glorfindel," she said softly.

"Oh, I couldn't! I would be much too embarrassed. I can't imagine what he must 
think of me!"

"That is why you need to speak to him, or live with him thinking that you are a 
spoiled brat with no manners. I have always felt that Adar and Lord Elrond 
should have allowed the two of you to meet before this, but that does not excuse 
your behaviour. You must speak with him."

Laerlend sat quietly for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"I. . . want him to like me," she murmured. "He is so. . . glorious," she ended 
with a sigh.

"Ah! So he is nice, tall, you might want to join with him, he has a golden 
tongue, skilled fingers that can pluck sweet music where he chooses, he dresses 
very well, his eyes are very blue, and he is glorious. Well, I must say that I 
agree wholeheartedly with those sentiments. So, did you wonder what it would 
feel like for him to kiss you with those glorious lips and golden tongue, his 
skilled fingers trailing over your . . . ."

"Miri!"

"Your hair," Mirithil laughed, tugging on a golden lock affectionately. "What 
did you think I was going to say? Little vixen!" She reached over and hugged her 
sister-in-law. "I see you have been thinking just those thoughts! Don't worry. I 
will never tell."

"I have to admit," Laerlend confessed with a giggle, "that I did. Tell me, Miri, 
did you know that Celebross was the only one for you when you kissed for the 
first time?"

"By the time we finally managed to kiss I already knew, sweetling."

"Was it wonderful?"

"Oh, yes," Mirithil said, her green eyes filling with a soft light. "The most 
wonderful thing ever."

"I want it to be like that for me," Laerlend sighed.

"You can always find out," Mirithil teased. "Go speak to him."

"I will. . . I . . . I owe him . . .them an apology."

"Them? You mean his lips?"

Laerlend smiled at her and laughed.

"Now who is being silly? No, Glorfindel, Lord Elrond, and of course Adar."

"Perhaps after you apologize to Glorfindel, you might try kissing his cheek. . . 
in reconciliation of course."

Laerlend laughed once more and clasped Mirithil's hands in her own.

"Thank you, Mirithil. I will try, and I hope he will not be as stubborn as I am 
about accepting my apology. I think . . . . "

There was a soft knock at the open door, and the two turned to see Lord 
Glorfindel standing somewhat awkwardly outside.

"Ah! My lord!" Mirithil said brightly, and slid from the bed with a wink at 
Laerlend. "We were just discussing you."

"Miri!" Laerlend hissed, her cheeks reddening yet again.

"You. . . you were?" Glorfindel stammered, feeling very young and very foolish 
suddenly, which was utterly ludicrous. "Well, then I will leave you and return 
later."

"No, no. I was just leaving. The babe is very restless, and I thought I would 
seek out my husband to accompany me for a long walk."

"Oh? Well, if you are certain. . . . I just wished to speak for a moment with 
Princess Laerlend."

"I am certain that I will leave you. She wished to speak with you as well, I 
believe. But," she turned and winked at Laerlend again, "perhaps it would be 
better if you went somewhere else to do it. It would be rather indecorous for 
you to converse here in an unmarried lady's bedchamber. . . without a chaperon."

Mirithil was rewarded by very becoming blushes from them both, and laughing 
softly she breezed past Glorfindel and into the hall. She noted that his blue 
eyes, above delightfully rose tinged cheeks, were riveted on the bed. Celebross' 
wife paused just behind him, and raised her brows, making kissing motions at 
Laerlend. Then she hurried away on silent feet, quite delighted with what had 
been accomplished this afternoon.

  

Chapter 12 - New Beginning

Glorfindel hesitated just outside the door, his eyes moving about the room, and 
then were suddenly drawn to the pillow resting on Laerlend's bed. He stared at 
it in amazement.

~Surely not! ~he thought with a frown. ~That was years ago! ~

"Is that my pillow?" he finally asked, his blue eyes turning to her.

"Your what? Oh. Oh!" Laerlend felt her cheeks flame as she turned to catch sight 
of the telltale pillow sitting so neatly on the bed. "Well, yes. The. . . the 
twins sent it to me . . . long ago," she explained hastily, trying to sound very 
nonchalant. "With Aralith. . . when he visited Imladris with Adar . . . long 
ago. I just took it out today. . . It hasn't been on my bed the entire time. . . 
of course it hasn't. . . just today. . . no. . . for Mirithil. . . not for me!" 
She shook her head in consternation at herself, knowing that her face had to be 
nearly as red as her adar's was when in a royal passion, and why did her words 
sound so very silly?! "Do you want it back?" she finished, leaning over and 
plucking the pillow up, then clasping it to her chest. ~Please, don't want it 
back! ~

"No," Glorfindel began hesitantly, finding her reactions to such a simple 
question rather perplexing. He had seen the trunk standing open beneath the 
window, and the things scattered before it on the floor. "That is not what I 
meant. I was merely surprised to see it after all this time."

"Oh. . . of course that is what you meant," Laerlend said, standing unmoving by 
the bed, wondering what she should say now. She wasn't certain if it was the 
proper time to make her apology, which she hadn't quite finished composing in 
her mind, but she didn't want to sound as ridiculous as she just had. He would 
think her an empty-headed fool. She found that she wanted to look at him, yet 
she didn't feel that she could; if she did, she might stare at him, or say 
something silly . . . again. He had not given her enough time to compose 
herself. Why couldn't he have waited just a bit longer? By tomorrow she would 
have a wonderful apology memorized, and just know how to approach him with an 
air of insouciance. As it was . . . she shook her head, brows furrowed, as she 
tried to think of appropriate words to utter.

Glorfindel waited for her to say something more, but finally he realized that 
she wasn't going to, so he cleared his throat, motioning vaguely with his hand.

"Will you accompany me outside perhaps?"

"I . . .yes. . . I . . .yes," she stammered, starting across the room while 
mentally kicking herself for sounding like the blithering idiot she feared she 
had suddenly become. Then she realized that she was still carrying the pillow. 
"Oh! One moment please." She turned and went back to her bed and laid the pillow 
back on it, smoothing the worn velvet. Her hands lifted to press her cheeks, 
which were entirely too warm.

~You can do this. It is not so hard to speak to someone. Not even to him. Truly 
it isn't. You are the daughter of King Thranduil Oropherion, and you are not 
afraid of him! You are not afraid of anyone! ~

She straightened regally and smoothed her gown, her face a mask of cool 
nonchalance, and she strode across the room, head held high. She breezed past 
him, feeling her heart accelerate as her bare arm brushed his sleeve. She would 
need to take him on a long circuitous route before trying to speak to him 
coherently. It would also give her time to collect her thoughts. She hated 
apologizing, even when she knew she should.

Glorfindel followed her, wishing he had a sword or a spear and a monster that he 
knew how to defeat, for this one certainly had him at a disadvantage. One moment 
she was like a flustered child with large dewy eyes and flushed cheeks, and the 
next she was a queen made of ice, blue satin, and gold . . . and was effectively 
ignoring him. He was amazed at how quickly she proceeded down the hallway with 
most unfeminine strides. He frowned and shook his head, starting after her.

"Might I ask where you are taking me?" he queried, already feeling somewhat lost 
in these corridors that she obviously knew so very well. How many of them had 
they traveled through, twisting and turning? ~She had better not be trying to 
lose me in one of these stone halls, ~ he thought grimly, wondering if he should 
be counting doors and remembering if they had turned left or right. ~Surely she 
wouldn't do that. . . would she? ~ Before he could become too concerned, they 
were suddenly outside, walking along a flower lined path, Laerlend still moving 
swiftly away from him.

Suddenly she slowed, feeling that her cheeks had cooled sufficiently to hide her 
emotions, and she nearly had figured out how to say what must be said. Then he 
was at her side, and she felt that perhaps they were not so controlled as she 
had hoped. She ducked swiftly beneath a rose twined trellis, hurrying down yet 
another pathway, this one lined with roses.

"Princess Laerlend?" Glorfindel called, and she turned to see that he had halted 
several paces behind her.

She tried to not think of how very lovely he looked standing there, the golden 
strands of his hair capturing the sunlight, some of them blazing a rich 
burnished bronze and others so pale as to be white. He truly did look wonderful 
in his dark grey tunic, the golden embroidery glinting. The backdrop of the 
crimson roses drooping from the trellis, the sky above them as blue as his eyes, 
was almost entirely too perfect. Laerlend bit at her lower lip and managed to 
nod. He had said her name! He had spoken her name, and it sounded sweeter than 
any music she had ever heard. A soft sigh escaped her before she realized that 
she was falling under his spell. Her brows knit then, her lip thrusting out as 
she chased such wayward thoughts from her mind.

"There is something I have to say to you, if you would hold still for a moment," 
he finished.

"There is something I need to say to you as well," she said haughtily, her chin 
lifting.

Glorfindel's eyes widened.

~She looks just like Oropher when she does that, ~ he thought with mild dismay. 
~Why did I ever think speaking to her would be easy? ~

They stood eyeing one another awkwardly: Laerlend wondering why she couldn't 
remember the beginning words of her apology, and Glorfindel wishing he was 
anywhere but here. Suddenly he moved gracefully to her side, and Laerlend found 
herself staring up into those very blue eyes, noting that the rims were a dark 
grey like his tunic. Her heart flip- flopped, and she found herself thinking in 
a panic, ~ Surely I didn't just gasp in delight?! Surely I didn't! ~

But she had, and Glorfindel felt that perhaps he was on somewhat steadier ground 
than he had thought. He would have to approach her slowly for fear that Oropher 
would appear in those eyes again, and such lovely eyes they were. He gazed into 
those orbs, noting the way the chestnut blended into the hazel-green, very 
lovely eyes. An odd sensation passed through him, and his fingers twitched as he 
longed to touch the stray strand of sunlit hair that curled at one temple. Her 
skin looked very soft, and he could detect the faint scent of her perfume. It 
reminded him of the colorful sweet peas that had tumbled over a wall in 
Imladris. Glorfindel watched as a faint blush shone on her cheeks, and a small 
smile tugged at his lips.

"Princess Laerlend," he began again, "I wanted to apologize to you."

She blinked then, the joy she felt in hearing him say her name again 
diminishing. Glorfindel realized he had made a mistake too late, for how could 
an apology be a mistake? His smile slipped somewhat as her eyes lost that 
delightfully tender light.

"Not you too!" she groaned, feeling her sorrow and despair returning. "Whatever 
for?"

"I. . . I was very rude earlier," he stammered, wondering how things could have 
changed so suddenly once again. He had never felt so flustered and unsure in his 
life! "I should not have . . . flirted with your friends. It was uncalled for, 
not to mention immature. Please forgive me."

Laerlend frowned, her brows knitting, causing Glorfindel to wonder if Oropher 
had returned to battle him. It was really most trying, having everyone apologize 
to her when she knew she was the one to be begging their forgiveness. She glared 
at the grey paving stone beneath his feet, her eyes moving slowly upward, noting 
the very nice fit of the boots, not to mention his leggings. She felt her anger 
recede as her gaze wandered up to his face. By the time she was staring into his 
eyes again she felt quite pleasant. . . rather fluttery.

"I will forgive you on one condition," she murmured, mustering her courage. Then 
she felt too overwhelmed by being so very near him, so near she could feel the 
faint heat of his body, and she dropped her eyes to the roses beside them.

"What one condition is that?" he asked, tenderly tilting her chin up with gentle 
fingers. This was one battle he was determined not to lose.

Laerlend suddenly recalled Mirithil's words: ". . . his skilled fingers trailing 
over your . . . ," and she blushed suddenly, quivering beneath that petal-soft 
touch.

"If you will forgive me," she breathed as his fingers trailed up her soft cheek. 
She leaned into the caress, quite unaware that she had done so, and Glorfindel 
smiled. "I . . . I behaved horribly," she continued, her nerves singing along 
her body as his finger trailed to the curl that had tempted him so earlier. "I 
don't usually behave like this," she continued, as his fingers did trail over 
her hair, and it felt so very wonderful. "I was just so angry at my adar for 
treating me like a . . . a trinket or bright bauble to be traded to the highest 
bidder." Color tinged her cheeks once more, her eyes flashing with the passion 
of her convictions, and Glorfindel dropped his hand slowly to his side as her 
eyes met his. "It truly isn't fair! Not to me, not to . . . to you! Weren't you 
angry when Lord Elrond told you that you had to marry me?" She gazed up at him, 
demanding an answer, and Glorfindel wondered how many different Laerlends he was 
going to meet in the course of this day.

He raised his brows as he contemplated his answer.

"Well," he said slowly, "I admit that I wondered about your animosity toward me. 
I could think of nothing I had done personally to offend you, at least not until 
I behaved in rather an immature way. Unless it is the prejudice that you might 
foster over my Noldor heritage," he jested with a grin. "I think that perhaps 
King Thranduil and Lord Elrond thought they were doing the right thing for us . 
. . but I admit I did not enjoy being treated like a prized stud either." He 
paused suddenly, as though he realized what he had just said. Color blossomed 
across his cheeks now, and he wondered if he had blushed as much in his entire 
lifetime as he had in this one day. "I. . . forgive me. I don't know why I said 
that."

Laerlend felt mutinous giggles building in her throat, and before she could stop 
them they bubbled forth, bright happy bursts of sound. Glorfindel gazed at her 
in relief, and began to laugh.

"I am glad that we have come to an understanding of sorts," he said after a 
moment, feeling more relaxed than he had since they had first ridden beneath the 
trees of Eryn Lasgalen.

"Yes, of sorts," Laerlend agreed with a smile. Her fingers trailed over a rose, 
its petals opening to the sun's kiss. She wished he would touch her again. "I 
fear Gwirith will be rather disappointed," she teased.

"Gwirith? Oh, the butterfly. Hmm . . . not my best moment, perhaps," he said 
with a wry smile. "What of the other two? Did I not capture their hearts with my 
golden voice?" he quipped lightly, feeling his heart beating a rapid cadence as 
if he were a silly youth in love for the first time.

"Your golden tongue," Laerlend corrected, without thinking. Another blush flared 
over her cheeks, recalling how Mirithil had spoken about being kissed by that 
golden tongue. She turned to gaze back up at him - he was very tall - only to 
find that he was standing closer than she realized. Their eyes met again, then 
they both turned away, feeling equally shy and awkward.

~I am too old for this, ~ Glorfindel thought. ~ I should have spoken to the 
twins about how to woo a maiden. ~ Then he smiled remembering how she had 
responded to his touch earlier. ~Perhaps I don't need to after all. Who knows 
what nonsense they would tell me? ~

Laerlend was staring at the roses once more, her brows knit in consternation.

~Say something! ~ she told herself sternly. ~Why can I not think of anything to 
say? Miri would know what to say! All she had to do was look at Celebross to 
have him worshipping at her feet! Why can't I think of something to say?! I was 
supposed to kiss him after I apologized! Why didn't I think of that!? Now the 
moment is gone! Oh, I do want to kiss him! ~

"The roses are very beautiful," Glorfindel said, his voice sounding in her ear, 
and she felt a delicious thrill to realize that he was standing directly behind 
her, his lips inches from her cheek. If she were to take a mere half step back, 
she would be pressed against him entirely.

"My . . . my naneth planted them," she said, reveling in this new sensation that 
assaulted her so tenderly. Was this how Mirithil felt when she talked to 
Celebross, when they stood so close to one another without quite touching? She 
felt so very alive, so very . . . tingly. "She planted many of the gardens here. 
I wish I could remember her better," she said sadly, tilting her head to one 
side as her fingers caressed a pale rose bud. What would her naneth think of 
him? She smiled tenderly, thinking that Brenillass would approve.

"It must have been hard to have lost your mother so young," he said 
sympathetically. "It is always hard to lose those we love."

Something in his voice made her turn about, looking up at him. She gazed into 
the blue depths of his eyes, seeing in them a sadness that she knew had nothing 
to do with her. She studied his face then, wondering what memory still troubled 
him. Since she didn't know if he wished to speak of it with her, she smiled and 
took his hand, pulling him after her down the path. She showed him the roses and 
the bushy herbs that grew along the pathway as they headed back toward the 
palace.

"That," she said, making her voice purposefully cheerful and bright, "is 
Spiders' Bane." She pointed at a spiky plant bearing small hanging blossoms of 
pale white that resembled nothing more than leggy albino spiders. "My naneth 
planted it when Aralith first became afraid of the spiders. She assured him it 
would keep them away from his room, which is just there," she pointed up to a 
window where a pale lavender curtain billowed; the sound of small bells chiming 
could be heard.

"Did it work?" Glorfindel asked with a wry smile.

Laerlend turned her gaze upon him once more, recalling that Thranduil had joked 
about Glorfindel being afflicted with Aralithus so very long ago. Was that truly 
possible? She didn't see how someone who was so tall and not to mention brave 
and lovely would be afraid of spiders.

"I suppose that it did. I don't believe any spiders ever got into his room . . . 
well, just a few might have, I guess. Though I believe they went in through the 
door and not the windows. Did the twins tell you about the time they brought 
Bastryn to visit? It was really quite funny, though I remember being very 
annoyed with him at the time . . . ." When he smiled encouragingly at her, she 
began her tale.

A short while later, feeling much more at ease with one another, they suddenly 
heard voices on the pathway ahead. Their eyes met as they halted in their 
tracks. Thranduil and Elrond were somewhere ahead of them around the bend in the 
path, and they were coming this way. Laerlend suddenly grabbed Glorfindel's hand 
once more, and pulled him into the bushes that lined the way. She knelt swiftly, 
beckoning for him to do the same. He did as he was bidden, feeling very foolish 
and yet finding this highly amusing. He turned to look at her, the breeze 
carrying her light perfume to him once more; her pink tongue poking out from 
between her full lips, her eyes intent on the pathway. One slim hand eased aside 
a leafy branch. She looked as though she was quite at ease eavesdropping this 
way, and a smile touched Glorfindel's lips at the thought that for some reason 
this didn't really surprise him.

"I don't know what to do about her, Elrond," Eryn Lasgalen's king was saying as 
they rounded the bend in the path. "I was ready to strangle her for that 
performance this morning."

"She is willful, I will say that for her, though that is to be expected," Elrond 
said with a grin, "seeing who sired her. Glorfindel was rather . . . caught 
unawares."

"Do you not mean that *you* were caught unawares?" Thranduil amended with a 
laugh.

"Well, yes," Elrond admitted wryly. "I certainly hadn't expected her to throw 
herself at me like that." He smiled over at Thranduil then, as they passed 
Laerlend and Glorfindel's hiding place. "I really didn't know what to make of 
it."

"You needn't worry about that. I will speak to her about it. She won't attack 
you at dinner."

Glorfindel could see Laerlend bristle with annoyance at the conversation, and he 
feared to lose the hard won ground that he had so recently gained. It was too 
soon for her to hear any slight against her behaviour, especially when it was 
done behind her back like this. He reached over and touched her arm, fearing she 
would leap forward now and declare her intent to never marry anyone if only just 
to thwart her father and Imladris' lord.

Laerlend turned to him, hazel eyes blazing. When Glorfindel shook his head, his 
finger moving to gently touch her lips to silence her, she opened her mouth to 
protest, then nodded slowly and bit at her lower lip. Perhaps she wasn't quite 
as much like Oropher as he had thought.

"I think we have arranged things very nicely, Peredhil, even if he is a Noldor," 
Thranduil continued in a jesting tone. "Marrying your Noldor Balrog-slayer to my 
Sindarin Balrog might just work."

Elrond chuckled at this statement and said, "We can only hope."

Glorfindel felt Laerlend tense beside him and he was certain that now she would 
leap out like the very Balrog they named her. Her eyes were narrowed 
dangerously, and his fingers moved to her arm to stay her.

He was surprised to see the hot flash of tears in her eyes. She turned to look 
at him, feeling utterly embarrassed by her loss of control now in front of him.

~How can he ever like me when my own father calls me a Balrog? A crying Balrog 
at that! ~

She blinked the tears back and turned away from him, but then she felt him shift 
to his knees facing her, and he was tenderly cupping her face in his hands 
turning her now tear-stained face to him.

"Don't listen to them," he murmured softly after Elrond and Thranduil had moved 
further down the path, his thumb wiping away the tears. "Don't let their teasing 
hurt you. It is nothing. Nothing that truly has anything to do with us. Please. 
Don't cry, nin malthen maethor (my golden warrior). You are strong. They won't 
hurt us; we won't let them."

She gazed over at him in amazement, feeling such wonder at the words he spoke so 
sincerely that she felt the sting of hurt easing. She smiled at him then and 
nodded. Glorfindel smiled back at her, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

"We won't let them get away with this, Laerlend," he said quietly. "I have a 
plan to make them squirm a bit for what they have put us through."

"A plan?" she murmured, wondering what he could mean.

His smile widened slightly, and his eyes traveled to her lips. Laerlend drew a 
breath, wondering if he would kiss her, and her tongue crept out to moisten her 
lips. She saw his eyes darken at this small movement, his smile slipping from 
his lips, which parted slightly. Her heart was pounding with excitement as he 
slowly bent toward her, his lashes lowering over those magnificent blue eyes. 
She leaned forward, her own eyes closing. His lips, when they touched hers, were 
so very soft and giving. She could smell the sweet scent of the soap he used, 
the richer scent of his sun-warmed hair, and the scent that was his, so 
masculine and exciting. His fingers tangled in her flower-decked braid as he 
eased her against him, his tongue brushing against her still-closed lips. She 
gasped slightly, her own hands grasping his long golden locks and clinging 
there. The intrusion of his tongue in her mouth was sweet beyond words, and she 
moaned softly as he continued his gentle exploration. Slowly he drew back, 
panting slightly. She opened her eyes and gazed over at him with such a soft 
look of wonder that he bent and kissed her lips gently once more.

"Do you want to hear my plan now?" he whispered, fingers gently learning the 
texture of her cheek.

"Plan? What plan?" she sighed, feeling like she could melt into his arms at this 
moment. No wonder Celebross used to look at Mirithil with such tender, 
enraptured glances.

"Nin malthen maethor, do you want to forgo your revenge on your adar and my 
lord?" he laughed, thinking that indeed he didn't need any advice from the twins 
at all.

"Oh. . . that plan. . . yes. I would like to hear your plan, but first. . . I 
wanted to apologize to you."

"You apologized already," he said with a laugh and a shake of his head, 
wondering if she would let him kiss her again so soon.

"I know, but I forgot something."

"Oh? What is that?"

Laerlend smiled, her hands tangling in his hair once more.

"Just this," she murmured, and leaned forward to kiss him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In a shaded glade not too far away, Elladan and Elrohir glanced at their 
companions and said in unison, wide grins on their faces, "We have a plan."

TBC

Thank you to al my beta! This one was a bit more foresty green. :( Sorry. Must 
have been the excitement! ;)

Thank you to Andrea for the lovely Glorfindel picture! :)