Bells of Silver 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! :)