~
Something Back
by Sian
~

Chapter One

The Vala Vairë looked sadly at the latest of her tapestries. So much suffering for one Elf; how many such scenes had she weaved? She knew not. The Elf has sacrificed so much for the children of Ilúvatar, indeed for all of Arda. Loss had been the Elf's companion from the first. Oh, gifts had been bestowed, but they had been bequeathed for the greater good of all Arda and not for the Elf's sake and said gifts had carried heavy prices. The Vala could not stand to visit upon the Elf more suffering. Yes, it was time something was given back.

In the great halls of Valinor, a meeting was held. Vairë had a request. The Valar listened, but none with the horror of Vairë's own husband, Mandos. His voice rose in the loudest objection, but Vairë's case was sound, and more importantly, just. So it was that a faer was released from Mandos's halls and returned to Arda. Only one condition did the faer travel with.

No one was to know why it was returned.

Gil-galad squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his senses overwhelmed with sensation. The bright light of Anor was too much for eyes that had been unseeing for many years. Impressions flooded the former High King. There was the very feel of Anor, the caresses of the wind, the variety of scents. Unable to cope, Gil-galad fell to his knees, struggling to ground himself.

There, that was better. Solid ground under him, humming with the pulse of Arda. He leaned back, allowing himself to fall flat upon his back. With eyes still tightly shut, he soaked in the joyous feeling of being returned. Gil-galad's nose twitched, recognizing smells from so long ago. There was the aroma of fresh green things; the very air itself had its own fragrances. There were the traces of animals that had passed by long ago and could still be detected, and what he missed most of all, the delightful, perfume, of flowers. Once the scents became familiar once more, he moved on to the impression of once again having a whole form. A form that could feel. Blood rushed through his body, the feeling of fabric brushing against his solid frame stimulating nerves, and with a joyous cry, he found he could speak. Laughing, and loving that he could laugh, Gil-galad rolled among the grasses like a small Elfling enjoying his Begetting day. To be whole and real once more, to be returned to a world he thought never to be apart of again, Gil-galad sobbed in bliss!

The Galadhrim guards of Lothlórien eyed the display the adult Elf was putting on with amazement. That the stranger had trespassed upon their lands was enough, but the silly Elf was rolling around on the ground, sobbing! None knew what to make of this most peculiar sight and indeed were fairly stuck dumb in incredulity. That is, until their Marchwarden, Haldir, snapped an order that had their attention returning to their tasks. Haldir signaled the archers in the trees to make ready and silently approached the deranged Elf. He patiently waited for the Elf's attention to fall upon him. The rolling figure finally noticed that he was not alone and stared up with amazement at the Galadhel.

"Well, hello," Gil-galad said. It took him several moments to pick himself up and brush himself off. Finally standing, he eyed the stern familiar face with awe. "Haldir!" he cried, and rushed towards the startled Marchwarden. Only Haldir's quickly upraised arm, signaling the Galadheim in the trees to hold their fire, saved Gil-galad from a return trip to Mandos' Halls. Then it was Haldir who stumbled back wearing an expression of astonishment.

"N-no, it can not be!" he whispered, voice trembling. "You wear the face of a ghost, stranger. W-who are you?" he demanded. The other Galadhrim, hearing the shock and panic in their leader's voice, cautiously moved forward.

It was Gil-galad that raised a placating arm. "It is I, Gil-galad, Haldir of Lorien. I have been returned to Arda." The former High King watched sadly as the proud warrior before him fell to his knees, bowing his head. He did not want that to be the first effect others had to his rebirth, a long past allegiance to an old ruler.

"My King, forgive me my shock. You are most welcome in Lothlórien." Haldir looked up at the King, his expression joyous. "Indeed, Sire, all of Arda shall rejoice in your return." Haldir jumped up, showing a rare excitement. "We must get you to the Lord and Lady!"

Gil-galad stepped forward and laid a hand on Haldir's sleeve. "Nay, Haldir, stop. You do not understand." He broke off, unsure himself what explanation to offer.

Haldir looked uncertainly at the King. "Understand what, Sire? What is wrong, are you not well, Hîren?"

Gil-galad sighed, his joyous reunion with Arda temporarily shadowed by the impending intrusion of reality. "I am well, Haldir. And you are correct, the Lord and Lady must be informed." Gil-galad picked up the cloak the Valor had provided for him when he was returned. "Lead on, Marchwarden."

Haldir silently shook his head at the questions in his brothers', Rúmil and Orophin, eyes, indicating that now was not the time. He sensed that all was not as it seemed with the High King's return, and he would wait for his Lady's wisdom before making up his own mind on what this might mean for Arda. But that did not prevent him from sneaking peeks at the High King from the corner of his eyes. The King was looking around, not making an effort to conceal the joy on his face as he beheld the Golden Wood once again. The trip to Caras Galadhon, was made in silence, the Galadhrim in awe of the returned Elf, the majesty of the once High King still very much evident. A few, like Haldir, had fought in the Last Alliance and knew the High King from old, but they were few in number. That terrible battle had greatly reduced the number of Elven warriors.

As the party approached the royal talon, Haldir worried over the shock their visitor would impart on the Lord and Lady, but what warning could he have sent? This was not the news for a message, but something that could only be believed with one's own eyes.

Gil-galad marveled at the changes Celeborn and Galadriel had brought to Lórien. Truly the power of Galadriel's Ring in Lothlórien was dazzling. But as the royal talan loomed closer, Gil-galad became worried. What to say? What explanation could he offer that would not violate the rules laid down by the Valar?

The Lord and Lady were frozen in astonishment as they gazed upon the face of their visitor. Their steps halted halfway down the royal pavilion. Gil-galad observed their expressions. Celeborn's eyes contained shocked joy, but a glimmer of apprehension could be seen in Galadriel's expression. Gil-galad turned to his escort. "Leave us, Haldir," he ordered. Haldir gave an uneasy glance at his rulers and received a faint nod from Celeborn. He departed, but not without some hesitation, for he too had seen his Lady's fear.

Gil-galad silently waited for the pair to overcome their emotions. He gratefully accepted the embrace Celeborn pulled him into. He moved to his cousin and took Galadriel into his arms. She trembled in his embrace and drew back to stare deeply into his eyes. "The mirror revealed nothing of this to me," she exclaimed.

"It was the Valar's will," Gil-galad explained.

Celeborn joined the pair, studying Gil-galad's face in wonder. "But, w-why and h-how?" he said, clearly not fully recovered from the shock.

Gil-galad looked solemnly at them. "I cannot tell you why."

"Cannot, or will not?" Galadriel asked, some suspicion in her voice. She stepped back, the unease returning.

Gil-galad looked at his cousin. He could see her hesitation and unease, but could do little to alleviate it. The Valar's rules were clear; none were to be told the reason he had been allowed to return. Celeborn watched the silent exchange between his wife and Gil-galad. He knew there were explanations forthcoming and he dreaded the questions Gil-galad would ask. "Come," he said. "You are probably weary and in need of refreshment." Any discussion that was sure to follow would be better served by the privacy of their rooms and not in the open royal pavilion.

Gil-galad followed, barely able to contain the words that sought to pour from his lips. Now that he was in their presence, he had to know. He waited and took the seat and the wine Celeborn offered. He even closed his eyes for a moment and just savored the taste, as well as the very thought, of wine filling his mouth once more. But his thoughts returned to the actions of the pair before him. He opened his eyes, the dark blue orbs pinning his kinswoman in place.

"You did not wait very long, did you? Did you have it planned along?" he demanded, the words growing harsher.

Galadriel's face blanched, her milky complexion becoming even more wan. But she did not back down. "Speak plainly, Gil-galad. What are you accusing me of?" But she knew very well what the High King spoke of.

Gil-galad rose and stood directly in front of her, his large frame towering over his smaller cousin. Each word was carefully articulated, the anger evident. "Was it your scheme all along to marry him to your daughter? There, is that plain enough, Galadriel?" His eyes never left the lighter blue of hers. Yes, Galadriel was powerful and far-seeing, but Gil-galad was not without power of his own and no lie could she tell him that he could not see through.

Galadriel raised her chin. She spoke without any regrets. "He needed heirs, heirs that have an important role to play in Arda's future. This I did see in my mirror. After your death, even though he did not accept your Kingship, it was even more imperative that the line continue."

Gil-galad turned away, and it was with great sadness that he whispered, "And yet, it is those very heirs that you speak of, that will break his heart again." Gil-galad flinched. He knew he should not have voiced that doom out loud. The Valar had warned him not to speak of it!

It was Celeborn that spun the High King around, urgency upon his face. "What is this you speak of? Those are my grandchildren, Gil-galad! If the Valar have revealed something to you about the twins or Arwen, I demand that you tell me. We have a right to know!"

Gil-galad only looked steadily at Galadriel. "Ask your wife, Celeborn. Ask her what the fates have in store for those precious heirs." With that, Gil-galad turned and walked out. Finding the Marchwarden guarding the doors, he stopped and looked closely at the Galadhel. He could read in Haldir's face the he had heard some of what had been said, and that the guardian would not reveal any of it. Gil-galad's shoulders slumped in weariness, yet one more sensation he had to accustom himself to again.

"Haldir," he said. "I wish to rest. Will you direct me to a room?" He followed the silent Galadhel to the guest talan, shutting the door with a soft "Thank you." Gil-galad laid his head upon a bed for the first time in an Age, and all he could think of was the one who used to lie beside him.

Chapter Two

Sleep would not come to the former High King. Once he had spoken with Galadriel, once his presence had been invoked, thoughts of Elrond would not let him rest. Frustrated and resigned to a sleepless night, he rose and stepped out into the evening air. Gil-galad's hands tightly clenched the railing of his talan. Elrond. No thought had he given, or much chance of reflection was he allowed before he was thrust back upon Arda's shores. But, was there still a place for a once-upon-time King, here. Now? And what of Elrond, his reason for returning? The half-Elf had been married, was still married according to Elvish law. He had children and was undisputedly a powerful Elf-lord, renowned for his wisdom and healing abilities. When he had served Gil-galad, Elrond had been young in Elvish years, and had looked up to the wiser King. But now, Elrond had more than grown into the promise the Valar had seen. Was there a place in Elrond's arms and heart for him any longer?

Had Elrond loved Celebrían? That thought, though unfair, haunted Gil-galad. He had not wanted Elrond to bury his heart after his death, but the idea of his Elrond in the arms of another sent him into a rage. His anger at Galadriel unabated, Gil-galad knew he would not linger long in Lothlórien. But was he ready to travel to Imladris? No, Gil-galad knew he was not. Perhaps for the very first time, the brave warrior, who had not trembled even before Sauron himself, was afraid. His musings were disturbed by the entrance of Haldir. Gil-galad let go of thoughts of tomorrow, at least for this night.

Haldir hesitantly approached the High King. "Sire, I am sorry for the disturbance. Lord Celeborn felt you would not wish to join the crowds in the main talan for dinner so I have brought you a tray." Haldir entered and deposited his burden on a small table. He backed away and gave the King a small bow.

Gil-galad eyed the proud Galadhel sadly. "Haldir, please, no more with the titles." He gave the Elf a small smile. "As you are well aware, I am a King no longer. The Elves of Arda no longer have a High King." He stopped Haldir's objections with a raised hand. "I have not been returned for that purpose, Haldir. Indeed, that is the last burden I wish to carry once more." Gil-galad moved closer to the silent guard. He warmly smiled into the Elf's hazel eyes. "You see before you, mellonen, an ordinary Elf."

Haldir reacted to the former King's words at once. "No Sire, you are far from ordinary!"

Gil-galad squeezed Haldir's shoulder. "Please, Haldir. I remember fighting along side you and your father. He was a brave and honorable Elf, and I was deeply saddened by his joining me in the Halls of Waiting." Gil-galad sat and uncovered the tray Lórien fare. He drew a deep appreciative whiff of real food, his taste buds exploding. A huge smile spread across his face. Something else he had greatly missed!

Haldir moved back, smiling at the expression upon Gil-galad's face. "I will leave you, Si-," he broke off at Gil-galad's mock glare. "My lord," Haldir stressed, smiling. "Enjoy your dinner."

Gil-galad eyed the broad back of the retreating Galadhel, an idea coming to him. "Haldir," he called. When the younger Elf turned back, Gil-galad asked. "Would it be possible to spar with you and your men on the morrow?" He shrugged his shoulders, somewhat embarrassed. "It has been some time, and this reborn body of mine could use the exercise."

Haldir laughed. "Of course, my Lord, it would be an honor. I will come for you in the morning. Rest well."

Once the Galadhel left, the smile slipped from Gil-galad's face. Even the long missed pleasure of food did not improve his spirits. He had spoken truly to Haldir; his place in this new Arda was unsure and unknown. The Elven realms were well ruled by their current Lords and Lady, no longer was there a place for one King. Besides, the crown when he had worn it had been a daunting burden. Many a day had he wished to shed the shackles of ruling for a more simple life. Well, now was his chance. The only problem was he did not know how to be a simple Elf. But, Gil-galad thought, a familiar challenging gleam in his eye, he would find out.

As expected, no rest did the former King enjoy that night. Instead, a firm decision was reached. Never in his first life did Gil-galad shy from hard choices or difficult tasks and he would not start his second life by doing either. He would take time to regroup, to relearn what it meant to live once more. When he had acquainted himself with this changed Arda, he would make the journey to Imladris and face another ghost of his past.

Morning brought him up and dressed and awaiting Haldir's arrival. He greeted the guard in good spirits and followed him to the training grounds. Silence greeted his appearance among the guards. He walked among them, never feeling more isolated than he did at that moment. Haldir stopped before two other Elves both of whom bore a striking resemblance to the Marchwarden.

"My Lord, may I introduce my two brothers? This is Rúmil and Orophin." Haldir placed a hand upon both brothers' shoulders. "Orophin is the baby of the family." He laughed at the scowl he received for adding that little bit.

Gil-galad warmly returned the warriors' greetings, glad to ease some of the tension his arrival had brought. "Mae govannen, it is indeed an honor to meet you both. I fought along side your sire and was saddened that he fell in battle with me."

Rúmil and Orophin both thanked Gil-Galad and moved back to their assignments, leaving Haldir and the King alone. Gil-galad looked at his partner for the morning. "Well, Haldir, what weapon shall we start with? Now please remember that this new form has not yet touched a weapon. I trust that you will take it easy on an old out-of-shape warrior?"

Haldir warmly clasped the King's arm, laughing as he led the way to the armory. More stares and halted conversations followed their progress. The armory provided a few moments of ease, but the attention returned once they emerged back into the sunlight. Haldir noticed how the silence and uneasy looks were discomforting to the former King. He looked over at Gil-galad. "My Lord, I know of a place better suited for a sparring practice. Plus, it is blessed by being near a stream for a swim after we are finished. What say you?"

Gil-galad nodded gratefully at the guard. "That sounds excellent, Haldir. Lead on."

The clearing where Haldir led them was indeed better suited to Gil-galad's needs. The open area was big enough for two Elves to have ease of movement, but the surrounding trees and foliage gave some well-needed privacy. For the next hour the small clearing rang with the sounds of blade upon blade. After a sweaty draw was agreed upon, the pair collapsed in exhaustion. Gil-galad felt every muscle in his re-born form, but upon his face was a smile. He had forgotten the simple joy of working one's muscles, the feel of exertion in one's limbs, and the thrill of an evenly matched opponent. He glanced over at the heavily breathing Marchwarden, secretly pleased that he had provided such a fine challenge.

"Haldir, I enjoyed that immensely. Long has it been since I felt this alive!" The pair collapsed, hysterical at the High King's unintended pun.

Haldir rose and offered the laughing King a hand. "None of your skill have you lost, my Lord. Now, how about that swim?"

Gil-galad accepted the limb. "Ah, that would be most welcome." Tunics and leggings were shed quickly at the prospect of a refreshing dip. Gil-galad stepped into the pool of water, and at the first sensation of the cool liquid upon his skin he forgot all about his companion.

Enrapt he stared down into the clear depths. Goosebumps covered his skin and a shiver of reaction danced through his frame. Gil-galad kept his eyes open as he submerged under the water. Floating, he looked in wonder at the world revealed around him. Small fish and plants danced past him as he stretched out his arms and began swimming. He burst to the surface, a joyous cry upon his lips. So long! It had been so long since he had felt such pleasure. The cool water caressed his skin like a long past lover. The taste of the pure liquid on his lips and tongue…so precious, so taken for granted.

Only gradually did he become aware of Haldir's stare. Finding the Galadhel eyeing him with amazement, he flushed. "I have always enjoyed bathing," he simply said. He joined Haldir in laughter, not minding that it was at himself.

Chapter Three

Over the next several weeks Haldir became a valuable companion to the former King. Sparring, exploring, or even just seated around a fire sharing stories and happenings, his presence helped Gil-galad greatly. Little did he see Galadriel or Celeborn, preferring to spend his time among the Galadhrim. Much as before, Gil-galad was more at home among the warriors than the politicians. Each morning, every sunset, every morsel of food... all were treasure to the re-born Elf. Gil-galad enjoyed everything he had previously overlooked. The simple pleasure one could find in a fresh fruit or a sweet wine no longer were simple pleasures taken for granted. Every Elf, from the smallest Elfling to the most battle-hardened warrior was of interest to the former King. Much time did he spend simply conversing. Elflings loved to sit upon Gil-galad's lap and hear tales of old. That their storyteller lived during the events he described never occurred to them, but how does one explain the concept of death and rebirth to the very young?

Gil-galad began accompanying the Galadhrim on their patrols, his unassuming and eager manner endearing him to the members of Haldir's patrol. Many an evening he would tell of battles of old and answer question after question tirelessly. One evening, after everyone else had sought their bedrolls, he and Haldir remained by the fire. Gil-galad could sense that the other Elf was troubled by something and caught more than one hesitant glance in his direction. Finally, unable to tolerate the stifling silence between them, Gil-galad spoke up. "Come, Haldir, spit it out, will you? Whatever it is that has you so disconcerted, just say it."

Haldir sighed, his eyes trained on the fire. After a few moments he seemed to have worked up his courage and turned to look at the former High King. "How much longer will you continue to hide here, my Lord?"

Gil-galad looked away, a flush staining his cheeks. "I know not of what you mean, Haldir. I am not hiding here, as you say."

Haldir scooted closer. He waited until the King had swung his eyes back to Haldir's. "You have become a dear companion these few weeks. I only say this because I have come to care for you, my Lord. Indeed you are hiding. You are hiding from the world and more importantly, you are hiding from Elrond." Haldir looked regretfully at his friend. "I do not say this with any desire to see you go, I will miss your company greatly. But, mellonen, you do not belong here in the Golden Wood. Your place is with your heart's desire, Elrond."

Gil-galad looked into his friend's concerned eyes. His shoulders trembled for a moment before he took a deep breath. Haldir was right. He had been hiding, avoiding, what ever one called it. He had been putting off reaching any decisions. Decisions about his future, about Elrond, decisions about anything. Now it appeared the time for hiding was over. He leaned in and drew Haldir into a hug, grateful for such a caring friend. "You are right," he whispered. Gil-galad said no more, leaving Haldir next to the fire. He went to his bedroll and lay down.

Nothing more was said the rest of patrol, but upon their return to Caras Galadhon Gil-galad went to see Galadriel and Celeborn. Both greeted him cautiously. He bowed and thanked them for their hospitality, all pretending that it had been consensually. Gil-galad met his cousin's eyes, seeing in them some unease. "It is time for me to depart. I will be journeying to Imladris. Is there any message I may give your son-in-law?" He asked, no emotion in his voice.

Galadriel did not speak. Only Celeborn was brave enough to answer their former King. "No, Gil-galad, no message, just that of our love to our grandchildren." Celeborn ignored his wife's glare. "We will, of course, send an escort with you. I believe Haldir and his brothers would welcome such a task. You have made a great many friends here, Gil-galad and many will be sad to see you depart."

Gil-galad simply nodded, unable as of yet to forgive his one-time friend. "I thank you, Celeborn." Gil-galad left without a backwards glance. He packed the few possessions he had managed to collect and made calls to the friends he had made, wishing each a sad farewell. He had indeed enjoyed his time in the Golden Wood and would miss his friends. That night a surprised and grateful Gil-galad was lead to the main fountain where a feast was held to formally say goodbye to the King. Gil-galad was especially touched with the sword that all the Galadhrim had contributed in gifting him with. The gleaming mithril blade bore the Elvish inscription "Forget Not the Golden Wood." It was with a saddened, yet nervously hopeful heart, that Gil-galad left Lothlórien and headed towards Imladris and Elrond.

Gil-galad knew as they stopped for the night that his unease and nervousness was noticed. Even his horse sensed its master's unrest and danced nervously under Gil-galad's weight. He could not stop his thoughts or keep his mind from traveling to the half-Elf and what welcome awaited him. How would Elrond react? What of the Peredhel's children? Would they welcome him into their home, the former domain of their mother? All these questions and more kept the former King awake through out the first days of their journey. It was with a great deal of thankfulness a week into their trip that Gil-galad greeted Haldir's suggestion of a hunt.

Silently Gil-galad crept through the forest, the borrowed Lórien bow at the ready. He stopped, ears picking up a sound not heard in centuries. Orcs! He stayed still, mind busy. He did not know the other's position, having wanted the solitude of his own company. Quickly gaining a position in the trees, Gil-galad strained his ears for a better fix on the enemy's location. He did not know if the others would recognize a Lindon warning call, but chancing it, he put his lips together and whistled: one high note, one low note. Faint rustling, too low for any but Elven ears could be heard and Gil-galad relaxed. The others were close.

Their smell announced their presence before the Orcs' forms could be seen. Gil-galad fought the compulsion to cover his nose and mouth. Never had he thought to encounter that odor again! He emptied his mind of any images of battles past, and focused on the Orcs now moving below him. He caught the Galadhrim's faint call on the air and made ready. When its sister call came, he released arrow after arrow into the screaming bodies below. The battle was quickly over, the creatures no match for the bowmen of Lothlórien. After the carnage, he silently helped the others dispose and burn the Orcs' bodies. Gil-galad ignored Haldir's concerned looks and once camp had been set, left the camp alone. The stream was welcomed gratefully. Gil-galad hastily shed his gore-covered garments and plunged into the water. Scrubbing fiercely at his skin, he was unaware of Haldir's arrival. The Marchwarden voice startled the King. "Are you okay, Gil-galad?" Haldir asked.

Gil-galad looked up at the other Elf, his mouth trying and failing to form words. Gil-galad crumpled to his knees in the water, his eyes revealing remembered horrors. Haldir moved quickly into the water, clothes and boots still on, and caught the former King in a strong embrace. "It's okay," he whispered, between the King's gasps and sobs. He held the trembling form tightly. "Your death?" he asked.

Gil-galad could only nod against Haldir's shoulder, his body wracked by images of a battle fought in the last Age, a battle that had cost him his life. Gradually, Gil-galad calmed enough for Haldir to lead him to the shore, dry him, and dress him in the clean garments Gil-galad had brought with him. It was a numb, Gil-galad who returned to camp. He accepted the tea Rúmil handed him, gratefully recognizing the smell of sleeping herbs. He was unaware of the watch his sleep was guarded with that night.

As their journey brought them closer to Elrond, Gil-galad grew more withdrawn. His thoughts returned again and again to the words of the Valar. Elrond was suffering; he had been for most of his life. Each brief moment the Peredhel had found happiness it had been ripped from him. First his parents, then his brother; Gil-galad had too left him. Elrond's wife had been attacked and left for healing in Valinor, and now his daughter, the Evenstar of their people, would choose the same path as Elrond's brother. A path that would separate father and daughter forever, to become mortal. Gil-galad's heart bled for his love. The Valar had revealed a further heartache for the Peredhel: his sons, were leaning towards the choice of their sister, to become mortal and die.

Gil-galad was not sure of the Valar's task for him. It had only been revealed that they wished to ease some of the Peredhel's suffering by returning a lost loved one to him. But any knowledge of the twins' possible choice was to be withheld. "Was he perhaps to influence their decision in some fashion? And if so, could he"?

Gil-galad froze at Haldir's words, "We are within Imladris' borders." The time was upon him. He would soon face the only person he had ever loved, but was he welcome?

Cries of "Halt," were heard. Haldir halted the party as a golden-haired sentry appeared on horseback. Gil-galad recognized those noble features. Glorfindel, Seneschal to Lord Elrond, and the only other re-born Elf on Arda. Glorfindel spoke with Haldir, his attention focused on the Lórien guard. Haldir responded quietly to the Balrog slayer and appeared to be nervous.

Gil-galad turned to Rúmil. "I think it wise that the rest of you wait here a moment and let me greet the Seneschal alone." He waited for Rúmil's acknowledging nod before he urged his horse forward.

Gil-galad kept his eyes pinned to those of the Seneschal's. He could see the same emotions that had appeared in many others at first sight of him: disbelief. He rode close to the Elda, waiting calmly for the blond to recover from the shock. He met those proud eyes blank-faced. Until he greeted Elrond and judged his welcome, it was better to remain calm and collected.

Glorfindel placed a hand over his heart, his words emotional. "If I did not know myself sane, I would swear that I'd consumed too much of Thranduil's Dwarf wine." At the Seneschal's words, Gil-galad burst out laughing. Warmly he accepted the awkward, horseback embrace, his heart warmed by the Seneschal's carefree welcome.

"You also consume too much wine, my friend. That is one of your many charms." Gil-galad pulled back and smiled at his very much-missed comrade. "Are you brave enough, Balrog slayer, to lead me forward?" Gil-galad asked, his face becoming serious.

Glorfindel's mirth too vanished. He gravely looked into the King's eyes. "Do you not feel that some sort of warning is needed? To spring this on him with no advance notice, might be a bit much."

Gil-galad looked to Haldir, and sighed at the Galadhel's nod of agreement. He looked down then swung off his horse. Gil-galad looked up into the blonde's eyes. "I only ask that you do not delay, Glorfindel. Now that I am this close, it is taking all my will to stand here, where he is not."

Glorfindel gave the former King's shoulder a brief squeeze. "I will hurry, though it may take much to convince him of this miracle." With that, the Seneschal spun his horse around and fled back to Imladris.

Gil-galad did not know how much time passed, but it seemed forever. The agonizing waiting had him pacing and muttering curses to himself. Everyone and everything else was blocked out as he waited. He did not notice the others moving their horses away. Gil-galad felt that his very heart was exploding as he finally heard the faint sound of hoof beats. Closer the sound came, the horse closing the distance fast. Gil-galad kept his head lowered as the horse came to a sudden stop directly in front of him. He tightly closed his eyes. He heard the faint rustling of robes, and then he was overcome by a familiar, beloved fragrance.
Elrond.

Gil-galad dared not look. This could not be real! Tears streamed from under his closed eyelids and he tightly clenched his fist to keep himself still.

The voice, when it came, hit him and sent his body quaking. "Will you not look upon me? P-please open your eyes; look at me, so that I may know this is no dream!" Elrond's voice was fearful, almost incomprehensible, in its emotion.

Slowly, Gil-galad raised his head and opened his eyes. Silvery-grey eyes like the mist on a rainy morning looked back at him. "Elrond."

Chapter Four

Note: All the below mistakes are mine. I had a slight mix-up in which chapter I sent Fim to get beta-ed.

Gray eyes that reflected a silver-like glow, similar to Anor as it begins to peek through the rain clouds, stared back Gil-galad in disbelief. An almost fragile hope showed from Elrond's eyes, as if he did not dare believe what was revealed to him. "Is it really you," he whispered, his voice quivering with emotion. Gil-galad stepped forward, and closed the distance between them. He cupped that beloved face in his hands. "It is I," and he said, and pulled Elrond's trembling lips to his and covered them with a hunger he had not felt in centuries. Elrond crushed his mouth to Gil-galad's and flung his arms around his lost lover's body. Joyously, they stood locked together with their lips touching, and their eyes open, each afraid to close them as if the other would then disappear.

Elrond broke away first but only to bury his face in Gil-galad's black tresses. He tightened his hold clinging desperately. "D-don't let go," he cried.

Gil-galad clenched his eyes tightly shut as tears escaped from under his lids. His senses were filled with the long-missed scent of his Elrond. "Never again. I swear," he whispered in reply to Elrond heart rendering plea.

Neither knew how long they stood with their arms wrapped tightly around the each other their bodies flush together and with tears streaming down their faces. All around them was silence as if the Valar had halted the world to watch their reunion. Birds, trees, and the very wind stood still, joyously allowing the lovers their moment. Gil-galad pulled slightly away and looked down into the Elrond's face. His eyes greedily absorbed every new line and every new mark that the long centuries had added to Elrond's beloved face. It was said that time does not show upon Elvish forms but Gil-galad had always believed that suffering certainly could. Elrond's fair features showed the mark of each hurt, each pain, and each lose, but where his features were once boyishly beautiful they now reflected the wonderful loveliness that comes from experiencing all life's joys and disappointments. Wisdom was reflected in Elrond's eyes, and in the lines that had been added to his forehead. His smile was still breathtakingly lovely even though he had not known as many smiles as he once had. Never had Gil-galad seen anything more awe-inspiring than the beauty of his Elrond's face.

Lush red lips beckoned, their allure only enhanced by the wetness of tears. Unable to resist their pull any longer, Gil-galad hungrily took possession. His kiss was met with a full measure of returned passion. Elrond's lips opened and his tongue swept in to reclaim familiar territory. Gil-galad groaned as the flavor of Elrond filled his own mouth. No one tasted like the half-Elf! The sweet eternal Elvish flavor of his lips, spiced with the mortal blood that flowed through his veins. Gil-galad moaned his knees weakening as Elrond's tongue explored every bit of his mouth. No part of each was left unclaimed, untasted, or unaffected. The need, to breathe finally broke them apart. With arms still wrapped tightly around the each other, they gradually rejoined the world around them. They heard the birds singing, the wind dancing through the trees, and the sounds of the restless horses of their guards.

Elrond flushed and glanced back over his shoulder at Glorfindel and the other Imladris guards. He was sure that their faces bore shock at their usually stoic and controlled Lord's behavior. But only Glorfindel's slightly bright-eyed gaze met his. The other's faced away, the Seneschal's orders, no doubt, to ensure his Lord's privacy. Gil-galad flashed Glorfindel a grateful smile. He sensed that Elrond was uncomfortable with so many witnesses to their reunion. He gave the body in his arms a gentle squeeze returning Elrond's attention to him. "My love, perhaps we should leave for Imladris and allow the warriors some rest. My escorts from Lothlórien have traveled far and could use some refreshment and ease."

Elrond frowned. "You came from Lothlórien? I received no message from Galadriel or Celeborn."

Gil-galad drew Elrond close hugging him tightly for a moment before releasing him and stepping towards their horses. "I will explain all but first let us adjourn to your Halls, Elrond."

They moved to mount and make the journey to Rivendell. Now apart, Elrond's face grew blank, which meant that the half-Elf was deep in thought. Gil-galad knew where his thoughts had traveled. How would Elrond's family react to find their father's lost love had returned? He knew that his presence would cause nothing but conflict for Elrond. It was one of the reasons why he had postponed the decision to travel to Imladris as long as he had. Gil-galad had no desire to cause his love more suffering. The Valar had shown him the aftermath that still existed from Celebrían's departure to the Undying Lands. The twins, Elladan and Elrohir, hunted the creatures that had hurt their mother with a single-minded vengeance that was making legends of them. Arwen the Evenstar of their people, spent much of her time in her grandmother's company, finding solace in the Golden Woods.

The closer they came to Imladris the more withdrawn Elrond became. Gil-galad left Elrond to his thoughts, instead focusing his senses on the power he felt once inside the Ring's reach. His skin prickled under the familiar power of Vilya. The power of the Ring of Air danced across his skin, raising the hair on the back of his neck. The power welcomed him it recognized him. Gil-galad shuddered at the very thought of once again having to control such an elemental power. He had no desire to hold Vilya and could not help the guilty thrill that the Ring now was Elrond's responsibility and, not his own.

He glanced over at the half-Elf and met Glorfindel's gaze over Elrond's shoulder. The Elda gave him what he thought was a reassuring smile. As to what Glorfindel thought he had to reassure Gil-galad of he had no idea, but the slightly pained glance that had accompanied that smile sent a twinge of unease through Gil-galad. Elrond was so silent. Gil-galad sent the Peredhel a worried look and spoke, seeking to ease his love's fears, yet hoping his offer would not be accepted. "Elrond, if it would be better, I can wait, and camp out here away from Imladris. That will allow you to prepare your family and subjects first."

He saw Elrond's look of surprise, his interrupted thoughts obviously deep and troubling. To his relief, Elrond shook his head before the offer had fully left Gil-galad's lips. "No, Ereinion. You are always welcome in my home." Elrond smiled somewhat apologetically at Gil-galad. "I am sorry love, but my mind was filled with thoughts of my children. You must understand, Ereinion. They have been through much and are still trying to heal from their mother's departure." At the mention of his wife, Elrond flushed and lowered his head, unsure what and how much Gil-galad was aware of his life since they were parted.

It was Gil-galad who grew quiet subtly pulling away though it was unintentional. He could not help the brief flash of betrayal he felt at the mention of Elrond's children or their mother, Elrond's lawful spouse. What would happen once they arrived at Imladris? If Elrond's children did not accept him, did not allow him a place in their father's life, could he ask Elrond to choose? No! Never that, Gil-galad knew. He would not do that to the one he loved. But what then of the Valar's plans? Would not having to choose between his children and his love not indeed add more suffering to the half-Elf? Gil-galad had to shake his head at the thought-out plan of the Valar. Sometimes despite their best intentions, their plans and schemes wrought more harm than good. He understood and appreciated their desire to reward such an honorable Elf. Elrond certainly in his eyes deserved much better than he had been dealt in this life. No, if Gil-galad presence would only cause his lover more pain, then he would remove himself from Elrond's life. Perhaps he could return to the Golden Wood? Galadriel would not like that but he was sure that Celeborn could be persuaded.

Engrossed in his thoughts, it was with some surprise that Gil-galad looked up seeing that they were about to enter the courtyard. In the distance he could see several Elves awaiting their arrival. Gil-galad glanced over at Elrond. His loves face was pale and he was biting his lower lip. Gil-galad recognized that nervous habit and thought to reassure Elrond. He moved his mount closer and reached over to lay an innocent hand upon the half-Elf's thigh. Elrond responded with a smile but at its edges tension was evident. "My sons are away. They spend the warm months hunting the creatures that injured their mother. But my daughter, Arwen is at home. I am sorry, Ereinion. I know not how to tell them of this miracle."

Gil-galad squeezed gently before removing his hand. "I know, melethron. I am sorry to add this burden to the others you carry. I will do what you think is best in this, Elrond. Simply tell me, meleth, what you would have me do." Gil-galad kept his voice lowered; the guards already had witnessed more than their Lord was comfortable with and he did not want to add to the gossip mills.

Elrond sighed, weariness showing on his features. He shook his head and sent Gil-galad a smile that bore a little more ease. "I do not think there is anyway to prepare them for you, melethen. The truth will simply have to do." Their party came to a stop before the steps of the Last Homely House. A dark-haired Elf awaited them and Gil-galad recognized Elrond's Chief Councilor immediately. He stared back into Erestor's stunned dark eyes and almost let his smirk show. There was another revelation that the Valar had revealed to him before his departure from the Halls. Erestor had feelings for Elrond though the half-Elf was unaware of them. But what Erestor did not know was that the Valar had other plans for the Advisor, and they were not with Elrond.

He dismounted and awaited Elrond's move. Glorfindel dismissed the troops and Haldir and his brothers came to stand close to the former High King. Gil-galad thanked Haldir with a smile for his show of support and went to greet Erestor. Elrond and the Advisor were speaking quietly and at Gil-galad's approach broke off their conversation. Elrond turned and drew the former King forward. "Ereinion you remember Erestor?" Gil-galad greeted Elrond's cankerous councilor, well remembering the stoic Elf from his early beginnings in Lindon.

Elrond looked almost hesitantly. "Erestor is going to show you to a guest chamber where you can refresh yourself."

Gil-galad with effort kept his face blank. So he was not sharing a chamber with Elrond. The look on the Peredhel's face showed that he expected some comment or complaint but Gil-galad said nothing. He could understand some of Elrond's caution. They had not been together for centuries. In a way, they were now strangers. He did not know this new Elrond. His former herald was now a powerful Elf-lord himself. Gil-galad gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I would like a bath and perhaps a rest before the evening meal. Thank you, Elrond and will you also have Haldir and his brothers seen to?"

Elrond nodded not quite able to hide his relief. But as Gil-galad moved past him to follow Erestor, he placed a hand upon Gil-galad's shoulder. "I need to speak to my daughter, Arwen. I will be in my study if you need anything."

Gil-galad gave one of Elrond's hands a squeeze. "If you need to talk, after." He saw the half-Elf nod and followed Erestor through the open doors into Imladris.

Chapter Five

TA 2951

Gil-galad lingered in his assigned room only long enough to bathe some of the travel filth from his body and don fresh tunic and leggings. The lush garden of Imladris beckoned. Gil-galad was able to avoid curious eyes by exiting through the terrace of his room. He took great joy in shimmying his way down the large oak tree outside his window, laughing to himself. If anyone saw the former High King of the Noldor fumbling his way through tree climbing, the gossip mills would be awash with new material. Once safely upon the ground and with no little relief that he had made it, Gil-galad stretched and breathed deeply. The air smelled different in Imladris than it did in Lothlórien. Perhaps it was due to the differences in the two Rings, or maybe it was just that this was where Elrond dwelled. Whatever the differences, this felt like home.

The roar of the mighty Bruinen provided background sound to the happy chirping of birds. Nowhere else on Arda was the wind more welcomed, allowed to rustle and dance through the trees, than here, where the Ring of Air ruled. Elrond's gardens were true treasures, every plant, flower, and tree, healthy, happy and a delight to the senses. Gil-galad had never told Elrond but what he had created here was sheer magic, and that he had done it long before the Ring came into his possession made it all the more incredible. There had been a time when Gil-galad had resented every inch of soil that made up Imladris. The building of Elrond's refuge had taken his herald, friend, and lover from his side. It had become Elrond's obsession, and Gil-galad could admit that he had wanted to be the only obsession in the Peredhel's life.

But death had a way of changing one's perspective. Looking back, he could see why the half-Elf had been so determined to create this sanctuary. Elrond had never really had one place he could call his own. He had been taken from the home of his childhood, when the sons of Fëanor sacked the Havens of Sirion. After their release by Maglor, Elros and Elrond came after a time to settle in Lindon with Gil-galad.

While none had dared show their prejudices openly, there were certainly whispers and Elrond had heard them. The finer Elves, and at that Gil-galad snorted, looked upon the half-Elf as less than them. The insults were subtle; their pure Elvish daughters were not allowed interaction with the Peredhil. Elrond suffered continuous doubts about his abilities, from warrior to healer to Advisor to the High King. But while these suspicions ate away at Elros' desire to be counted among the Firstborn, they only seemed to fuel the fire that burned in Elrond, even brighter than the full-blooded Elves that shunned him.

Gil-galad knew Elrond had never fully felt welcome in Lindon. The silent censure became worse once they had to also hide their love. Each push by the nobles of the court to have Gil-galad married off and an heir underway only spurred the resentment Elrond began to feel towards the nobles of Lindon. So when Elrond discovered the valley, he had wasted no time in escaping from Lindon and its resentful Elves. Gil-galad had lost something of Elrond when the Peredhel first laid eyes on his valley, but while that knowledge had burned through him with a great deal of bitterness before his death, now it just made him glad. Glad that the half-Elf had had at least this one constant in his life.

Gil-galad reluctantly left his outdoor explorations and moved inside, curious to see what other changes times had wrought. He peeked carefully into the open libraries, knowing there was where Elrond poured one of his other loves. The libraries very impressive, with wall to ceiling volumes, some having been written by the half-Elf himself. Next he explored the dining halls, ignoring the many curious looks and stunned silences his presence caused. The Hall of Fire was welcoming indeed. He could well see it filled with laughter, dancing, and music.

It was the Hall of Memories that caused him the most joy and the most sorrow. Evidence was abound of the loss in Elrond's past, his presence, Elrond's brother Elros and his human descendants, and Celebrían. Gil-galad could almost feel the bitter-sweet sense of loss and love in this room. The victorious defeat of Sauron reflected in a mural, the beauty of Celebrían immortalized in a painting, this was where Elrond kept his ghosts. The shards of Narsil lay upon a shrine and the walls were covered in murals, some depicting the mortals who shared Elrond's blood. There was even a chilling painting of Celebrían's capture and torture by the Orcs. One mural drew Gil-galad for a closer look. Coming to a stop before the painting, he eyed the testimony of his death painted in vivid colors. There he stood, spear raised defiantly against the Dark Lord Sauron. His last great and foolish moment.

He knew not how long he stared at his image inscribed on the walls of Imladris. It was, finally, the gentle scent of rose that pulled his attention away. He turned and met the eyes of an Elf-maid. Gil-galad had not heard another's presence and he silently studied the female just as he himself was studied. Her identity he knew immediately. Even though her eyes were a deep rich blue, everything else about her screamed Elrond. So this was Arwen, the Evenstar of their people. She was as lovely as the legends said. The pair regarded the other, each waiting for the other to speak. Since he was the intruder in her home, he broke the standoff.

Gil-galad bowed. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Arwen. From the Halls much was said of your beauty and grace, but the rumors failed to do you justice."

Arwen strolled over and stopped directly in front of Gil-galad. "Should I address you as Sire, or curtsy perhaps?" While her words were mildly spoken, her eyes remained watchful.

Gil-galad smiled down at the Elf-maiden. "Gil-galad will be fine, and please, no curtsey."

Arwen laid a hand upon Gil-galad's arm. "Will you walk with me then, Gil-galad?"

He gave her hand a squeeze with one of his own. "With pleasure, my Lady. Lead on."

The pair strolled silently back through Imladris' lovely peaceful gardens. Gil-galad waited for Elrond's daughter to speak, her verdict laying the foundation for his welcome back into Elrond's life.

"Do you resent me as you do my grandmother?" Arwen asked, shocking her companion with her forthright manner. But Gil-galad really shouldn't have been that surprised, he thought. She was of Galadriel's blood also.

He sighed sadly, shaking his head. "No, pen dithen, I do not resent you or your brothers. While my anger at your grandmother burned brightly upon my re-birth, the ire has since abated. What of you, Arwen? How do you feel about my presence here?" Gil-galad knew he should wait and speak to Elrond first, but he had never been one to sit idly by and wait for rejection or bad news.

Arwen sat on a small stone bench and indicated that Gil-galad should join her. Her bottomless blue eyes looked deep into his cerulean orbs. "It is the Valar's will, is it not, that you were returned?" At his nod, she continued. "Their purpose, then, I place my trust in, believing that they have only my father's good in mind. I wish only my father's happiness and well-being. Much sorrow has he known and these last Ages he has been lonely and in need of comfort that neither I nor my brothers can provide."

Gil-galad nodded once more. "I too have to trust in the Valar's will. But this I can promise you. Only Elrond's happiness prompted this decision on their parts."

"Good," Arwen said. She rose and looked down at Gil-galad once more. "I would ask that you tread slowly and carefully with Ada. He seemed overwhelmed and unbalanced when we spoke earlier." Arwen went to depart, but Gil-galad could not help the brief flash of anger her words caused.

"Arwen," he called, and when she turned he made sure she could see the prideful anger in his eyes. While he did not wish to cause any unease in Elrond's house or alienate his children, he would not be cowed or denied what was his. "I have loved Elrond through Ages; even death could not deny that love. I have returned for him and him alone and nothing will change that."

Arwen smiled at someone over Gil-galad's shoulder, not responding to his words. Gil-galad turned and looked into Elrond shining eyes.

Continued...

Send Sian feedback
Visit Sian's website

The characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. No profit is being made by the authors or the archivist and no disrespect is intented.

Do not post this work elsewhere without the author's consent.