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Thin Ice
Maybe
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Rating: PG
Pairing: Elrond/Gil-galad and Galadriel/Celeborn.
Summary: Winter in Middle-earth, ice-skating and elves.

Notes: Challenge from Dusk - again - while ice-skating ourselves. May fit into an upcoming series.


Ice laced the great lake of Evendim, the water stilled into a shimmering sheet of crystal ice as though time itself had paused. That seemed so for upon the vast frozen lake the great leaders of the elves were gathered, their duties set aside, at least for a time. Celeborn had made the journey from Harlindon, where he resided in the high king's castle with his wife. The lady herself stood at the edges of the lake, swathed in a thick white cape, her hood drawn up over her long golden hair. Snow dampened the toes of her calf-length boots, leaving dark stains on the soft fawn-coloured leather. Whiter than the snow itself, Galadriel's features were framed by falling locks of her hair so that she seemed garlanded in the radiance of Arien. Across the icy lake her eyes met his and Celeborn's skates slithered out from underneath him. Startled, he clutched in vain at the cold air before the equally cold ice connected with his rear. Celeborn glanced sideways at his lady and sighed inwardly as he registered that an amused smile now completed Galadriel's outfit, and he was fairly certain a new bruise would adorn his.

The soft hiss of well-controlled skates executing a smooth stop and the light spray of ice against his cheek, accompanied by a gloved hand appearing in his sightline, indicated the arrival of Haldir. Celeborn grasped the offered hand, refusing to acknowledge that it was humiliating to be rescued by an elf barely out of his minority, and consoled himself with a glance around that revealed he was not the only one sitting on the ice. He was incapable, however, of preventing himself from blushing as a small smirk graced Haldir's haughty features, while Celeborn scrambled inelegantly onto his knees and allowed Haldir to haul him to his feet. Regaining his skates, Celeborn remained cautiously stationary for a few moments, brushing the ice from his robes and twisted his head around to ruefully regard the ever-growing damp patch on his rear. He adjusted his gloves as Haldir swooped off again and lifted his head to be mockingly saluted by the amused high king.

Gil-galad was sitting on the bank, his hands folded around a mug of heated cordial.

"You are certainly mastering the art of falling, lord Celeborn," the high king cheerfully noted. "Continue in the same manner and I am certain that by the end of the winter you will have honed the skill to the same level as your swordsmanship."

Celeborn acknowledged the sad truth with a smile. "Then, sire, I hereby challenge you to outdo me. The high king must surely exceed the skill of his courtiers in all respects."

Gil-galad laughed. "Touché, my friend."

Setting aside his mug he rose gracefully onto his skates and raising a hand, beckoned to someone beyond Celeborn's shoulder. Peering cautiously behind him, for he was not absolutely certain his wilful skates would permit the adjustment in his balance, Celeborn watched the figure of Elrond detach himself from a group of skaters who were moving slowly but surely around the perimeter of the lake and approach.

Elrond came to a careful stop beside his king and Gil-galad leaned over to speak softly to him. After a moment, Celeborn looked uneasily away. There was an intimacy in the gesture that he did not wish to see; the high king's hand lingered that beat too long upon the shoulder of his herald, his lips that crucial inch too close to the smooth curve of Elrond's ear. But Elrond simply nodded once and, with a slight bow, formally offered his arm to the high king. As Gil-galad accepted, Celeborn shook his head; he had to have been mistaken.

Gil-galad, loosely clasping Elrond's arm, shot Celeborn a grin as they paused beside him. The high king reached out and took one of Celeborn's gloves from his hand.

"Your challenge is accepted, my good lord. However, I fear it would not be ... appropriate for the high king to be seen upon his rear with his legs in the air," Gil-galad said. He handed Celeborn his gauntlet back with a smile; it was too cold to be without the protective garments for long. "I shall leave those displays to your remarkable talents, Celeborn."

He pushed off cleanly, his skates moving easily in time with Elrond's. Celeborn did not hear what the half-elf muttered, but the king broke into hearty laughter - and one of his skates sheered sideways. Gil-galad half-spun with the movement, tipped Elrond onto the floor, albeit more gracefully than Celeborn's own tumble had been, and kept his balance. Elrond's indignant expression changed to one of long-suffering resignation at the grin Gil-galad was failing to disguise with contrition, and simply held out his hand to be pulled to his feet.

Chuckling to himself, Celeborn experimentally eased one of his skates forward. Finding that it did, in fact, remain under his control, he pushed the second one after it. Encouraged he moved again, left, right, left, right... After several trips down onto the ice, which he was determinedly not counting, he did seem to be improving. Or not, Celeborn quickly reminded himself. But it was too late: fate had been tempted. His left skate shot forward and he grabbed forlornly at the air again, resigning himself to another trip onto his backside. A hand suddenly gripped his elbow and another braced against his back. Jerked roughly onto his skates once more, Celeborn met Haldir's eyes gratefully and deliberately avoided Galadriel's, hearing the musical lilt of her laughter ring out upon the cool, clear air.

"My lord," Haldir, his familiar smirk very poorly concealed, offered Celeborn his arm. For a moment Celeborn hesitated and then swallowed his dignity and took it. Being supported by his young ward was infinitely preferable to another trip onto his bruised and damp behind.

"I am not sure that this is seemly," Celeborn murmured, striking out cautiously and finding himself much better balanced.

"And it would be more so to...continue as you were?" Haldir asked, with dubious tact given the twitching of his lips.

As Rumil and Orophin, Haldir's younger brothers whisked past him at high speed, the wind of their motions rippling the heavy edges of his cloak, Celeborn shook his head, steadying himself against Haldir's arm. He slithered again momentarily, finding his skate blades perilously close to undercutting Haldir's with their bodies so close together.

"No," Celeborn admitted. "I merely meant that."

He glanced around and shook his head. No one, Celeborn realised, was going to have a word to say about Haldir holding his arm, particularly not with the high king himself was linking fingers with his herald.

"I know," Haldir muttered back.

Celeborn glanced suspiciously at his ward, but Haldir's face was unreadable and the silver-haired lord frowned to himself. It would not normally be considered seemly for a high ranking lord to be visibly supported by his inferiors, no matter how much work they in fact shouldered, they were supposed to be unseen pillars. Nor would a married man - or an unmarried one - be publicly witnessed holding the hand of someone other than his wife or the person they were courting. Yet upon the iced lake, these unwritten rules were being indiscriminately flouted. Half the other courtiers of Lindon and the Grey Havens were skating as duos; gloved hands clasped gloved hands or arms linked through arms. At the far end of the lake, Glorfindel was holding up Erestor, his high-boned features nearly crimson as he struggled to suppress his amusement. Erestor's face was almost purple in the hues of his embarrassment, as his skates slithered gaily around attempting to introduce various parts of his anatomy to the ice, despite Glorfindel's strenuous efforts. Even so, Celeborn wondered just when Gil-galad's grip had shifted from Elrond's arm to his hand, and if anyone else had noticed.

Deciding that no one was going to comment, least of all, given her amusement, his lady, Celeborn clasped Haldir's arm and slowly pushed off again. As he did so, Celeborn felt a sudden twinge of guilt, wondering what he was thinking. It was possibly treasonous to claim that the high king was intimate with his herald and, regarding the other skaters, he could not imagine what madness possessed him to form that thought. Yet.there. The newly wedded courtiers Celairos and Elwen skated past him, their fingers interlinked and mirroring their grip Gil-galad and Elrond's skated before him, apparently oblivious to Celeborn's uncomfortable stare.


"Gil-galad, we cannot be seen like this," Elrond murmured regretfully, trying to draw his fingers out of Gil-galad's grasp. He was not entirely certain when Gil-galad's hand had transferred from the risky, but comparatively safe position on his arm, to holding his hand and his fingers were not cold enough for him to have legitimate excuse not to have noticed. The high king's hand tightened around his.

"Gil-galad? You have not called me that in a long time." Gil-galad softly evaded the issue.

"Ereinion, please," Elrond hissed back. "This is not appropriate - your reputation."

"Elrond, no one is going to notice," Gil-galad answered reassuringly, balancing entirely too well on his skates to justify the need for a supporter, and transferred his hand to Elrond's shoulder long enough to gesture to the rest of the lake. "Look around, nearly everyone is doing as we are and it will be a lot more detrimental to my reputation if I end up on my backside."

"Your reputation or your dignity?" Elrond parried, smirking, and felt Gil-galad's hand close around his own again as the high king laughed.

"Both, I imagine. Now stop worrying."

"As you command," Elrond muttered, his voice sounding harsher than he had intended. He wanted - wanted so much - just to hold Gil-galad's hand and pretend that all would be well; but he could not.

Gil-galad stopped as though the ice had seized his skates. Celeborn and Haldir nearly collided with them and, after they had safely passed, Gil-galad turned to Elrond, his eyes colder than the frozen lake. "Command?" he almost whispered, and he swallowed: hard.

Elrond shook his head. "I am sorry," he said quietly and gently detached his hand from Gil-galad's.

He heard the sharp catch in Gil-galad's breath and then the rasp of the king's skates; Elrond spun quickly, catching Gil-galad's arm to steady him and hearing the muttered curse.

"These skates are the work of Morgoth himself," Gil-galad growled irritably, gripping Elrond's arm a little harder than necessary.

"At least you cannot storm off," Elrond said, brushing at imaginary ice on his king's sleeve. Gil-galad's jaw clenched as he acknowledged that and his eyes fell to Elrond's fingers, which were straightening the folds of his robe. The heated affection Elrond always found in the king's eyes was almost burned from them by the visible pain in his gaze. Slowly, Elrond let his hand fall and sighed. "I have apologised once, Gil-galad; I am not going to do it again."

"I don't want your apology; I want an explanation," Gil-galad said in a low, angry voice.

"Not here, not now," Elrond answered gently and resumed their casual pace across the ice. Gil-galad remained at his side, their arms now chastely linked.

"Here. Now," Gil-galad returned implacably.

For a few moments they skated onward in silence, Gil-galad waving a friendly hand at Cirdan, and dredging up a mechanical smile at a giggling bunch of courtiers sitting on their rears in a tangled elven heap. They passed out of clear earshot before Elrond continued grudgingly.

"Ereinion, if we are ever discovered, it is my reputation that will be dragged through the mud to salvage yours. I don't begrudge you that: it is better my name than yours. But we cannot afford to put ourselves in that position, you know that."

"I know that," Gil-galad whispered back, his voice raw. "And something else too: how often, Elrond, do we get to spend time together, like this? No one is going to notice, and I will be damned thrice over before I let them take from me what little I *can* share with you. My court might be able to dictate how I behave, but they will *not* tell me how to feel. Just this once, let me behave as I feel, even if no one but you and I will ever know it."

The waves of pain coming from the king melted Elrond's resistance as surely as the coming of the spring sun would melt the ice. Without speaking he slid his hand slowly down to entwine his fingers with Gil-galad's once more and he felt the king relax beside him. In silence they skated onward, the pale beams of the winter sun glittering off the surface of the ice and failing to touch the watery depths beneath.


Watching as the high king and his herald glided smoothly past him once more, Celeborn felt the frown settle more firmly onto his brow. When the pair had paused, nearly upsetting Haldir and himself, Celeborn had expected them to skate on alone. Certainly Gil-galad appeared to have no need of his herald's assistance when they moved together, but he had nearly fallen the instant Elrond stepped away. And yet again, at some indefinable point, their grips had shifted from arms to hands once more. Celeborn chanced a look across the lake to his lady, for if anything was unusual between persons of the court and her company - and plenty who were not - Galadriel would be aware of it. But her face was lit only with a now pleased smile for Celeborn's newfound ability to remain upright on the ice. With a shrug, Celeborn transferred his own hand from Haldir's arm to his hand. It was certainly easier to skate that way.

The End

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