Chapter Summary: Lindir meets Haldor, son of Galdor.
Lindir looked around when Lord Glorfindel came to stand beside him on the deck.
'We should be there within the half-hour,' Glorfindel said, turning around and nodding behind Lindir to where the infant city of Harlond loomed against the horizon.
Lindir nodded and turned his gaze away from the island and to the shores of the mainland. Instead of following Glorfindel's gaze to the city, however, he looked to the woods that huddled on the city's hinterlands, beyond the farmlands that surrounded the city walls. There were great patches of blackness: thousands of dead trees that he had been unable to see from the island, although he had seen the flames and clouds of smoke that had ruined them.
He sensed Glorfindel following his gaze and about to comment, so he quickly said, 'It looks different from when I last saw it.'
'How was it when you last saw it?' Glorfindel asked. 'I was not well acquainted with Harlindon three decades ago.'
Lindir looked at him questioningly and Glorfindel smiled ruefully.
'I was in Forlindon then,' Glorfindel revealed.
Forlindon. There were no Green-Elf clans left in the vicinity of Forlond. The colonising Noldorin and Sindarin refugees had driven the last clan into the far north. The last Green-Elf clan leader had been assassinated twenty years ago. Lindir guessed that Glorfindel had been involved in directing that assassination. And Lord Celebrimbor. Lord Celebrimbor resided in Forlindon.
'Lord Gildor once told me that Forlond would be the new capital of Lindon, should the Noldor be united under Prince Erenion,' he said.
'Forlond is certainly the most secure of the two cities,' Glorfindel said. 'But it is not as beautiful or as rich in resources as Harlindon.' He smiled at Lindir. 'You have not answered my question. How was Harlindon thirty years ago?'
'There were more trees,' Lindir said. His gaze drifted to the walls that surrounded the city and he silently added that at that time there had been heads sitting on stakes that overlooked the ramparts.
'I hope that the trees will be replanted,' Glorfindel said. 'Indeed, I do not know anyone who does not regret the burning of those trees, but considering the proficiency of the Green-Elves in gaining the assistance of the trees in the shedding of Noldorin and Sindarin blood, we had little choice.'
Lindir turned and looked back at the island. He wondered what Gildor and Elrond were doing.
Glorfindel straightened. 'I hope you understand that once you are on the mainland, you will not be permitted to move without sentinels,' he said quietly, his gaze still fixed on Harlond.
'I understand.'
Glorfindel turned his head and looked at him. There was a smile on his face and Lindir hesitated before turning his head and meeting the tall elf's vaguely amused expression. When their eyes met, Glorfindel laughed incredulously and looked away, his smile broadening. Lindir frowned.
'I had expected, nay, hoped to provoke you with a few of those comments,' he said. 'But it seems that you have beaten me. I suppose I shall have to resort to openly insulting your people to witness any resentment or sorrow in your eyes.'
Lindir blinked. Then he laughed and lowered his eyes.
'What is your secret?' Glorfindel asked. 'I would dearly like to learn your temperance.'
Lindir hesitated, glanced nervously at the elder's welcoming expression, and then looked away and admitted, 'It is not temperance. I merely try to accept those things for which I am not responsible and which I cannot change. I do not see the use of resentment when it will not pleasure those who are dead or ease the building of good relations between those who are alive. There is nothing save hindrance in pessimism.'
Glorfindel's expression softened and the tall elf looked back at Harlond. 'I have heard that wisdom before,' he said. 'I used to praise it myself. But I do not agree with it any more. I think that temperance has its uses, aye, but so too does great wrath... and sorrow.'
'In war? When one has something to protect?'
Glorfindel's face clouded. 'Aye, but I am not speaking merely of survival instincts during battles or times of oppression. I have found that those who temper their own expressions too much have...' He hesitated. '...difficulty feeling or expressing great emotions. And when or if they are provoked to do so, the provocation is so terrible that they are unable to repair what was broken in their spirit.'
Lindir's brow knitted.
'Humph.' Glorfindel's face cleared and the tall elf smiled down at him. 'You are entitled to your opinion and I to mine. I have many experiences awaiting me which may yet change my mind, and you yours.'
Lindir was not about to let the conversation leave that easily. 'Do you know someone who was provoked and who could not mend their spirit?' he pressed curiously.
'I do... or I did,' Glorfindel said dismissively. He nodded at Harlond. 'It is not someone who I think much about nowadays, but he expressed similar sentiments to yours, so you reminded me of him.'
'What happened to him?'
Glorfindel chuckled sourly. 'He died in Gondolin. Like I did. Now come... we are about to dock. And I believe... that those horses are waiting for us.' He straightened and walked off towards the side of the ship that was closest to the dock.
Lindir turned around and looked past the elves who were preparing to cast ropes down to the elves that were waiting in readiness on the dock. He smiled when he saw that as Glorfindel had said, there were six horses waiting for them on the firm ground just beside the entrance to the dock. Two tall elves who looked like guards were waiting with them.
Then a thought occurred to him and, eyes wide, he hurried over to where Glorfindel was standing and talking with one of the mariners.
'Ah... Lord Glorfindel,' Lindir interrupted nervously.
The tall elf smiled at him. 'Aye?'
'I do not know how to ride a horse,' Lindir said. 'I have never been taught.'
To his surprise, Glorfindel looked neither surprised nor particularly concerned. Indeed, Glorfindel's smile had widened.
After a few moments, Lindir realised that Glorfindel had no intention of replying. He hesitated, swallowed, and then said, 'Is that not a problem for you?'
'Of course,' Glorfindel replied, exchanging an amused look with the mariner. 'But there is no time to teach you that skill, so you shall just have to let the horse carry you.' He winked at Lindir's confused expression. 'Most Green-Elves have trouble riding, so I do not think anyone will pay you much attention if you fall off into the street.'
Lindir stared at him doubtfully, not sure if Glorfindel was joking, being honest, or simply trying to provoke him again.
After a few moments, Glorfindel chuckled. 'Do not worry about it,' he said. 'We do not have far to go and my horses are mindful of the safety of their burdens so long as their burdens are good-tempered and you already excel in that art.'
'Ah.' Lindir said, not really seeing at all.
Glorfindel turned back to his conversation with the mariner, leaving Lindir to his own devices. He looked around for something to do and spotted some elves going below the deck. He suddenly recalled his bags and ran to follow them, but had no sooner reached the door that led below when another mariner emerged with said bags slung over his shoulders.
'Oh, please let me take them, Haldor,' Lindir said, recognising the elf as the same who had carried the bags onto the ship that morning.
Haldor laughed. 'Oh, so you remember my name, do you?'
Lindir felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Had he said something wrong? He opened his mouth to apologise, but Haldor beat him to it.
'Haldor, son of Galdor,' the mariner said in his smooth voice. He hoisted the bags off his shoulders and on to the dry wood of the deck. In his bowed position, he added, 'At your service.' Then he straightened, smiled, and added, 'Although considering your position relative to us, that sounds quite the inconsiderate greeting, does it not?'
'Uh...'
'As a hostage, I mean,' Haldor explained. 'And now I see that I have confused you, so I shall carry these bags of yours to the villa by way of an apology.' He picked up the bags again and slung them back over his shoulders.
'Villa,' Lindir echoed blankly, staring at the largest bag and hoping that Haldor had not damaged his harp and flute.
'Has Lord Glorfindel not told you? Well, that is self-evident,' Haldor said, glancing thoughtfully in the direction of said elf-lord, who was still talking with the other mariner. 'Lord Glorfindel is taking you to his villa in Harlond.'
'That is generous,' Lindir said. 'I did not think that he... being a descendant of Kings, I mean... to...' He coloured and stopped.
Haldor laughed. 'By all means, keep on babbling,' he said amusedly. 'And I agree with you. My own father would never allow his work to enter into any of his private dwellings, but I suppose that Lord Glorfindel's work is his private life, much as others would like to make it otherwise.'
'Make it otherwise?' Lindir turned his head and gazed curiously at Glorfindel, who was listening patiently to the gesticulating mariner, a tolerant smile on his face. Beyond the pair, the ramps were being laid down and some of the mariners had already left the ship.
'I see that you are still immature.'
'Eh?' Lindir's attention snapped back to Haldor. 'Aye, I am only forty-seven summers, but what does that have to do with Lord Glorfindel?' he asked confusedly.
The corner of Haldor's lips quirked upwards and he leaned down to whisper in Lindir's ear. 'Lord Glorfindel is extremely, no... exceedingly beautiful,' the mariner revealed.
'Well, I suppose he is polite and he has a good appearance...' Lindir said nervously, unsure if he was supposed to be entering this conversation at all.
'No, you do not see,' Haldor said, sounding disappointed. He straightened and smiled down at him. 'It is called the air of mystery,' he said coolly. 'It is a delicious aphrodisiac.' He turned away.
'Eh?' Lindir inquired, but Haldor had already left him and gone to carry his bags down to the dock.
Chapter Summary: Lindir arrives at Glorfindel's house and Elrond discusses rumours with the mariner, Halmir.
Lord Glorfindel, as was the case with most elves with the sort of money and influence that afforded escape from the claustrophobic bustling centre of any thriving city, lived on the southwestern outskirts of Harlond, on the side of a small hill. Perhaps surprisingly, considering his direct relation to the King of the Vanyar, his property was quite modest compared to its neighbours, some of whose mansions they passed as they made their way out of the city centre.
The house itself, as Lindir quickly discovered, was neither a hut nor quite yet a mansion. But it was large, much larger than the residences in which Lindir had grown up. He was impressed by its quaint architecture and gleaming white walls. Immature vines with thick glossy leaves cradled the lower half of the base walls, telling of the mansion's relatively recent construction. The garden also looked new, with its shaved emerald grass and orderly linden shrubs. Lindir, with a single glance, could tell that some ancient trees had been sacrificed to indulge Lord Glorfindel's residential ambitions. The evidence was blatantly obvious in the three enormous tree stumps that sat in the middle of the front garden. In addition, one glance behind him and he could see a most excellent view of the city. That sort of luck did not usually come from putting one's house down in a natural clearing.
They dismounted outside the front steps, on which were standing about sixteen elves, apparently all servants despite the fact that they did not wear any recognisable uniforms. Two of these elves came down to relieve them of the horses. One of these elves also helped Lindir down from his horse. Haldor picked up Lindir's bags again.
Glorfindel, without looking at any of them, headed confidently up the steps and through the front doors, which lay welcomingly open. The rest of them, servants included (save the ones with the horses), followed.
In the entrance hall, the elves dispersed and headed off in different directions. Haldor, who had been walking ahead with Glorfindel in the direction of the enormous stairwell that faced the doors, now turned back and beckoned him. Glorfindel ascended the steps.
'I will show you to your rooms,' Haldor said, when Lindir had approached him. 'There you may wash and unpack your bags. I advise you to continue wearing those clothes though, because Lord Celeborn's foreign diplomat will be arriving soon.'
Lindir nodded. Over Haldor's shoulder, he saw Glorfindel reach the first story landing and disappear down a passageway on the left.
'Your rooms are on the second story,' Haldor continued. 'Follow me.'
They went upstairs. On the second story landing, Lindir followed Haldor down a passageway and through a door, which led into a small, but quite excellent bedroom. He looked around in surprise. It far surpassed the luxuries of Gildor's camp. And he had never seen such an enormous bed in his life; indeed he was unsure if the four-columned construction was a bed at all. But it certainly seemed to be the only structure in the room with pillows and blankets...
He took a hesitant step towards it, but suddenly noticed a huddle of bright yellow blossoms immediately outside the window, gleaming cheerfully in the sunlight. Thoughts of the bed were flung aside and he walked over to the window to admire the golden creatures that stood just beyond the windowpane.
He was about to lean forward and open the windows so that he could reach out and touch the pretty creatures when Haldor spoke and interrupted his thoughts.
'So,' Haldor said. 'What do you think?'
Lindir turned around and looked at him. Haldor was standing beside the dressing table near the bed. The bags had been put down on the rug in front of the table. Lindir stared at the looking glass that sat on top of the dressing table and his small weedy reflection. He had never seen a mirror so large or so clear a reflection.
'Uh... it is very beautiful,' Lindir said honestly, still staring at his own reflection. It was the first time that he had seen himself in his green and gold raiment. He certainly looked regal, albeit very short in comparison to the royals of old. He turned his head slightly from side to side to better see the golden clasps that fastened the braids over his ears.
Then he noticed that his reflection wasn't the only reflection gazing at him out of the looking glass and he paled when he met Haldor's eyes. Haldor smiled and turned back towards him.
'There is a bath waiting for you in the bathroom down the passageway,' Haldor said. 'I will call a servant to help you.'
Lindir coloured. 'But...'
'Please aim to be washed and dressed by noon, as that is when the lunch bells will sound,' Haldor continued. He turned to leave the room.
'But...' Lindir bleated again.
'Hm?' Haldor looked back at him attentively.
Lindir flushed. 'I do not need help to bathe,' he said.
The corner of Haldor's lips quirked into a smile. 'Of course you do not,' he replied. 'But your title affords you the right to be spoilt.'
Lindir felt his blush reach his forehead. 'It was not like this in Father's... uh... Lord Gildor's camp,' he said nervously. 'And it is not the custom of my people.'
'But it is the custom in Lord Glorfindel's residence. And as his guest, you should abide by the house rules lest you offend him.' Haldor winked at him. 'So enjoy the bath and feel free to demand that the maid service you with a long massage afterwards.'
'Maid?' Lindir squeaked.
'Of course,' Haldor said in a deadpan voice. Then, on seeing Lindir's panicked look, he chuckled and shook his head. 'I am jesting, Lindir. For a child of forty-seven, you are very naïve.'
Lindir faltered. This was the second time that Haldor had pointed out his youth and made it sound so negative. He pursed his lips into a smile and nodded meekly.
If Haldor read that he had hurt Lindir, he made no sign as he turned and left the room.
Elrond turned his gaze away from the docks of Harlond and to the mariner who was steering the patrol ship.
'Halmir, how far is it to Prince Erenion's dwelling?' he asked.
'Four days,' Halmir answered promptly. He looked at him sidelong and his lips quirked into a sudden smile. 'That is provided the weather stays the same.'
'Ah.'
Halmir turned his attention back to the wheel.
'Would I be correct in assuming that you are Halmir, son of Galdor of the Havens and formerly of Gondolin?' Elrond ventured.
'You would be correct,' Halmir said.
'And is your other brother called Haldor?'
'Indeed. That is the name of my younger brother.'
'Is he also a mariner?'
'Yes. He is also a diplomat,' Halmir said. He shot Elrond another sidelong smile. 'So, who is next? Or are you not interested in my three sisters and various cousins?'
Elrond smiled self-consciously and Halmir's smile broadened.
'So tell me why you are visiting Prince Erenion,' he said, turning his gaze back to his task. 'Or is it sensitive information?'
'It is political, if that is what you mean,' Elrond replied. 'I am going to try and convince Prince Erenion to accept the crown of High King of the Noldor.'
Much to Elrond's astonishment, Halmir stared at him blankly for a few moments before bursting into laughter and doubling over the wheel.
'Ah, well good luck with the venture then,' the mariner chuckled, pushing his hair out of his eyes with his right forearm.
'Did I say a jest?' Elrond asked.
'Well... not exactly a jest,' Halmir said, grinning at him. 'But it is a common joke among my colleagues that the only way to convince Prince Erenion of anything is... well,' he hesitated, smirked, and then turned back to his task.
'Is what?' Elrond demanded.
'Actually, it is not all that funny,' Halmir said soberly. 'Not when one considers your position. And I am not a reliable source because I have never met his highness.'
'And?' Elrond pressed.
'Supposedly, the Prince is a rampant pederast,' Halmir said calmly.
There was a brief pause as Elrond digested this information.
Then, Elrond ventured, 'And is he?'
'As I said,' Halmir said, 'I am not a reliable source, but I do know that he is a homosexual. He is in a relationship with one of Erestor's sons, Malgalad, much to Erestor's disgust, of course.'
'Erestor?'
'He is Lord Celeborn's foreign diplomat,' Halmir said. 'He is half Noldo and I am certain that he has roots in the House of Fëanor. He acts like it anyway.'
'Erestor, son of Erendur?' Elrond queried, recalling a connection between the names.
'I would not know,' Halmir said. 'But I know that there was an Erendur who worked as Lord Maedhros' scribe.'
'Yes, that would be him.' Elrond said, as Halmir's words recalled some more of his memories of his years in Maedhros' camp as an infant and the tall sneering scribe who had grudgingly obeyed Maedhros' orders to teach him and Elros. 'I was unaware that he had a son. He never struck me as the children type.'
'It would not surprise me if they are father and son,' Halmir said. 'Like father, like son, so they say. And Erestor has cut ties with all of his sons.'
'Oh.'
'It was so difficult between Malgalad and Erestor that Malgalad even left Lord Celeborn's service, which forced Erestor to disown him.'
Elrond looked sceptical. 'Is that a direct relationship?'
'Hm?'
'Malgalad left Lord Celeborn's service because he could not get along with his father? Is that a direct relationship?'
'Probably not, but it makes good gossip,' Halmir said, shrugging and shooting him another quirky smile. 'But it is undeniably better for Erestor's reputation if Malgalad is disowned. It makes Erestor appear to be more loyal to Celeborn.'
'It makes him appear to be rather heartless,' Elrond retorted.
Halmir chuckled. 'That as well.' He suddenly turned and jerked his head towards Harlond. 'Harlond is about to disappear behind that bank. Do you want a last look?'
Elrond turned in time to see Harlond's dock disappearing behind the bank. The rest of the city's waterfront buildings quickly followed until the hill that rose up to the city's west completely covered his view of the inlet.
Chapter Summary: Master Erestor, Celeborn's foreign diplomat, arrives at Glorfindel's house.
Lindir took Haldor's advice about not being late to lunch to heart. He hurried the servant who attended his bath. He hurried to get dressed. He hurried his unpacking...
He hurried so much that by the time he reckoned that he was ready for lunch, he still had an hour to spare until noon.
So he sat down on the end of the bed (the servant had kindly pointed out to him that yes, it was a bed and no, it was not a decorative centrepiece that could not be touched), toed off his shoes, and brought his knees to his chest. He then proceeded to observe his new surroundings very closely.
A few minutes later, he decided that he was bored. He got up and went over to the window to attempt to undo the latch so that he could have access to the golden flowers that sat smiling at him, their heads nodding in the breeze. As he approached the window, he heard footsteps in the outside passageway. He assumed that they belonged to servants on their way to empty the bath water and clean the bathroom, and turned his attention back to the flowers.
He reached out and tried to undo the latch. It didn't move one way, so he tried the other way.
The latch didn't budge.
His brow knitted and he put both hands on the latch and wrenched!
At that moment, the door opened.
Lindir barely had time to register this fact before someone was standing beside him and an uplifted arm was wheeling towards his face. He caught a brief glimpse of the face of the black-haired elf before the arm collided with his nose with terrific force.
So terrific that he heard a sickening crack. So terrific that he was propelled back against the desk beside the window. As he descended, he felt the corner of the desk slam into the side of his back. He half rolled off the desk and into the space between the desk and the desk stool, which grazed his outflung arm as he crashed to the rug.
He lay there in shock, barely registering the hot warmth that was amassing in his nose. It had been such a long time since anyone had struck him. Not since before Gildor had moved him and Elrond to The Island and acted out on his threat to punish any person who dared to harass either of them. And never, never had a grown up struck him.
He heard the strange elf turn away to stride to the open door; he rolled over and sat up to gaze warily out from underneath the roof of the desk. The elf had reached the door and now he stopped, glanced sharply back at him, and then turned to gaze angrily down the passageway.
'Go and fetch Glorfindel!' he snapped to someone just out of sight. His voice was trembling with rage. 'Tell him I want to see him IMMEDIATELY!'
Then he spun around and strode back to Lindir. His face was white with anger and Lindir, on seeing him approach, shrunk back.
'Get up!' the elf snarled.
Lindir hesitated, noticed the elf's jaw tighten, and fearfully pushed aside the stool and staggered to his feet, bumping his head on the eaves of the desk as he did so. Blood streamed from his nose to run down his face and neck; he brought his hands to his nose to try to stem the flow with his shirtsleeves.
'Erestor, what is it?'
Lindir and Erestor looked up and around to the doorway. Glorfindel had just crossed the threshold. He looked confused and annoyed, but when he laid eyes on Lindir, his confusion turned to bafflement. He looked at Erestor's furious face and opened his mouth to speak.
Erestor beat him to it.
'I am relieving you of your duty of care over Lindo's son!' he snarled. 'Clearly, you have no idea of the threat that he poses or of how to manage him!'
'Threat?' Glorfindel looked confusedly between the pair of them. When Lindir moved his hands to cover his nose with a drier section of his sodden sleeves, Glorfindel's eyes widened in alarm. He went over to the bed, whipped a small white blanket off of the coverlets, and strode over to him.
'Here,' he said, handing him the blanket. Lindir parted his hands and he heard Glorfindel hiss in sympathy when he saw the state of his nose. Glorfindel thrust the blanket into Lindir's hands before, to Lindir's surprise, wrapping his arms around his middle and lifting him up.
Glorfindel carried him out of the room and down the corridor to the bathroom in which Lindir had had his bath. There, he sat Lindir down on the tiled bench beside the sink and crouched down before him. Lindir pressed the blanket to his nose, gasped in pain, and then started to choke on the warm liquid that he had inhaled. He thrust away the blanket and bent over himself, coughing hard. Blood spattered onto his stockings, onto his shoes, onto the tiled floor, and onto Glorfindel's stockings.
He tried to apologise, breathed in more blood, and began to cough even harder.
He saw Glorfindel's hair fall across the bloodstains on his stockings when Glorfindel turned his head towards the door of the bathroom. 'What happened?' Glorfindel asked sharply.
'I hit him,' Erestor replied. His anger appeared to have cooled slightly. 'He was trying to escape through his bedroom window.' His eyes narrowed. 'I thought you said that you had him well guarded.'
Lindir's coughing fit ceased. Breathing cautiously, he raised his head and looked between Lord Glorfindel and this strange elf, Erestor. Erestor was gazing sourly at Glorfindel. Glorfindel looked bewildered.
'How could he escape?' he asked. 'I bewitched the windows shut and it is a sheer drop of two stories to the ground from his window. And there are guards underneath his windows as well. How is it possible for him to escape?'
Erestor's face darkened with rage. 'Two stories?' he hissed. 'Are you trying to tell me that you are ignorant of the fact that Green-Elves can scale six stories? Are you trying to tell me that one set of guards can hold off Lindo's squadrons?'
'That's not...' Glorfindel began. He looked resentful. 'There are elves scouting the property. I am certain that Lindo will not attempt to rescue Lindir, and in the chance that he does, his rescue team or teams will not survive.'
Erestor snorted. 'Your carelessness is disgusting.'
Glorfindel's eyes flashed with sudden anger. 'Then use your own warriors to guard him!' he cried. He slammed a fist down on the bench, inches from Lindir's left thigh.
Erestor flinched. Lindir hurriedly lowered his head and gulped down a mouthful of blood.
'Why do you expect me to be able to solve everything?' Glorfindel continued furiously. He was shaking. 'I am not invincible! I barely have the resources to manage the Gondolindrim camps and the Green-Elf clans in Forlindon! How do you expect me to be able to manage the problems in Harlindon as well?'
There was a long silence. Glorfindel glared at Erestor. Erestor stared coldly back.
Lindir swallowed another mouthful of blood. It felt better to swallow it than to bend his head forward and let it dribble all over Glorfindel's white stockings and bathroom floor. The liquid now drenched his chin and neck, and had run beneath his collar and down his chest.
Erestor's face cleared. 'I will send four members of my escort to guard Lindo's son night and day,' he said. 'You had better tend him before he bleeds to death. He will be useless for the negotiations as a corpse.' He turned and stalked from the room and the crowd of servants who had gathered at the bathroom door to observe them.
Glorfindel lowered his gaze to the bathroom floor. Lindir thought he heard a quiet sigh. He glanced at the hand that was resting beside him on the bench.
Then Glorfindel turned his head and looked at him.
'It does not look out of shape,' Glorfindel said.
'Eh?' Lindir looked up and stared confusedly at him.
Glorfindel wasn't smiling. He nodded at Lindir's face. 'I am referring to your nose,' he said. 'I do not think it is broken. But it is beginning to swell up, so it is difficult to tell.' He raised his hands towards Lindir's face. 'May I examine it?'
Lindir nodded and winced when Glorfindel's fingers touched his nose.
'Does that hurt?'
Lindir shook his head; his nose actually felt numb. He closed his eyes and waited until Glorfindel's fingers had finished searching the injury.
Glorfindel's fingers fell away from his face. 'Move your nose.'
Lindir tried and shuddered in pain. He opened his eyes and on seeing Glorfindel's hands fast re-approaching his face, he hurriedly drew back. Glorfindel frowned.
'I thought you were smarter than to try and escape,' he said.
Lindir lowered his eyes. Glorfindel's fingers resumed their examination.
'I am disappointed in you,' Glorfindel continued. 'But it is my own fault. I was naïve enough to believe that you actually agreed with my plan.'
Lindir looked at him. Glorfindel searched his eyes and then his hands dropped back to his lap.
'I thought you had high ethics, high enough to see beyond the selfish aims of each group,' Glorfindel said. He stood up and walked over to the sink. Lindir heard the sound of water being poured into a vessel.
Glorfindel returned and squatted back down in front of him. He held a bowl of warm water in one hand and a damp cloth in the other hand. He reached out and began daubing the cloth around Lindir's mouth, chin, and throat. Lindir raised his face to help him in the task.
'You had better take off your tunic and shirt,' Glorfindel said. 'And your stockings, before they are ruined.'
Lindir obediently shrugged off his tunic. He put it beside him on the bench. Then he undid the ties of his shirt and pulled that off as well. The sleeves of both were soaked and when he looked down, he saw that blood had trickled almost all the way down to his navel. Thankfully, it felt as if the bleeding had stopped.
Glorfindel took both items and stood up to go and give them to one of the servants at the door. Lindir stood up, untied his stockings and slipped them off. He turned to hand them to Glorfindel, who had turned back towards him, and then stopped on seeing that Glorfindel was staring at his torso and legs. He blinked confusedly before following Glorfindel's gaze and realising that Glorfindel was staring at the silver birth marks that decorated both parts of his body.
He looked back up at Glorfindel and blinked again. There was an odd look on Glorfindel's face.
'How did you receive those wounds?' Glorfindel asked curiously.
Lindir lowered his eyes. 'They are birth marks,' he said timidly. His voice sounded nasal in his ears. 'Everyone except for Papa and Mama seems to think that they are strange.'
'They look like scars,' Glorfindel said, walking back to him and taking the stockings out of Lindir's hand. He crouched down and peered closely at the four silvery splotch marks that decorated Lindir's right flank. Then he looked further down to the paper-thin marks that ran across parts of Lindir's thighs and calves.
He glanced up. 'Oh, you have one on your right forearm as well,' he mused.
'Yes.' Lindir nodded and turned around so that Glorfindel could see the marks on his back as well.
Cool fingers suddenly brushed across the side and back of his right thigh in a caress and he hurriedly stepped away, his face burning. He went back to the bench and sat down with a thump.
Glorfindel had the graciousness to apologise. 'Sorry,' he said. 'There are three splayed marks on the side of that leg that look like a hand print.'
Lindir smiled nervously. 'I used to think of it like that,' he said. 'But the hand only has three fingers.' He paused before adding, 'neither Papa nor Mama have birth marks like mine. It is a little strange.'
Glorfindel's face softened. 'Yes,' Glorfindel said quietly. 'It is very strange indeed.'
Chapter Summary: Elrond and Halmir part ways and Glorfindel invites Lindir out to dinner.
It was mid afternoon when Halmir announced that they were nearing the residence of Prince Erenion. Elrond's belongings were brought up to the deck and the lashings that secured one of the ship's rowing boats to the ship were cut.
'The house is just about to come into sight,' Halmir said, pointing towards the towering cliff that lined the shore, and which overlooked the great ocean, Belegaer. Giant waves hurled themselves against the naked cliff rock and on impact, splintered into showers of sea spray.
Halmir suddenly raised his arm and pointed at the very top of the cliff. 'There!' he said. 'Can you see the house?'
Elrond looked up and stared at the white building that sat on the very top of the cliff. 'Is that it?' he asked.
'Yes, indeed,' Halmir said confidently. 'That is where Prince Erenion lives.'
'How is it possible to approach the house from the sea?' Elrond asked, staring doubtfully at the waves that pounded at the base of the cliff.
'Oh, it is possible,' Halmir said confidently. 'But not from in front of the cliff. We will sail around it and land in a small inlet some six miles south. There, you will have to travel north-northeast through the forest until you find the old road. About two miles along the road, you will discover a stairway which will take you west up to the top of the cliff.'
'Ah.' So he would have to walk through a forest. Elrond suppressed a scowl.
'You should reach there just after sunset,' Halmir continued, looking at him.
Elrond smiled outwardly. Inwardly, he wondered if it would have been easier to have ventured this visit to Prince Erenion over land.
Halmir quickly disproved his thoughts.
'It is easier this way than by land,' he said. 'The roads east of Prince Erenion's residence are poorly maintained and are frequented by Green-Elves, independent of Lindo's clan, who also resist the Noldor and Sindar. It is likely that you would not reach Prince Erenion's house by land without a strong escort.'
'Then how did Prince Erenion manage to settle in such a location in the first place?' Elrond asked incredulously. 'How does he get his food and furniture?'
'He communicates through the hawks and gulls that inhabit the shores,' Halmir said. 'And everything that he demands is delivered via this route.'
Elrond looked up at the lonely house and imagined that either Prince Erenion loathed company or he adored solitude. Or both. Whichever was the case, Elrond decided Erenion's servants had to be in excellent physical shape to be trekking across the countryside at Erenion's whim.
'How long will you be staying there?' Halmir asked.
'I am not sure.'
'Well,' Halmir said lazily, 'if it is under three weeks, say... fifteen days, then send a bird to find us and to request that we pick you up; we will be sailing along this coast line until then.'
Elrond smiled. 'Thank you.' He inclined his head.
The ship continued sailing past the cliff, which appeared to extend in an endless line down the shore. The house soon disappeared out of sight.
And then, gradually, the elevation grew less until the forest that covered it was mere feet above the level of the sea. Soon, the inlet was visible and the mariners skilfully guided the ship to its entrance. Then Elrond, Halmir, and two other elves got into the rowing boat and it was hoisted down to the waves.
Within the next hour, Elrond found himself standing alone on the beach and watching Halmir and the two other elves sailing back to the ship. He waved once at the shrinking shape of the rowing boat before hoisting his bags onto his shoulders and turning to gaze resentfully at the forest that crowded around the beach.
North-northeast, was it? Well, he had better get started before it got dark. He climbed up the sandy bank and plunged into the warm shade of the trees.
Four days had passed since he had arrived at Lord Glorfindel's villa. Four days since he had been confined within the walls of the building. Four days since Lord Glorfindel, Lord Haldor, Master Erestor, and a small escort had left the villa. One day since he had been permitted to remove the bandages from his nose. And since Master Erestor had struck him, Lindir had also had four guards following him around at all times of the day and night.
This afternoon, he was sitting in Glorfindel's study with one of Glorfindel's elderly servants. The servant was showing him some map books and telling him about the history of Lindon. Lindir had started off by being interested, but his attention had soon drifted to the sunlight that was streaming through one of the nearby windows and highlighting dust motes in the air.
He wanted to go outside.
He looked at the servant and wondered how the negotiations were going between his people and the Noldor and Sindar of Lindon. He had not been told the specifics of what had been going on and none of the servants seemed able to explain the current situation to him. He turned his gaze back to the sunlight and the dust motes, which were slowly revolving in the warm still air.
The quietude was suddenly broken by the sound of pattering feet in the outside passageway and then the door was flung open. Lindir's guards drew their swords, but their concern was needless. It was another servant of the household.
'His Lordship and Lord Haldor have just returned,' the servant gasped. 'His Lordship is heading here, so please leave the room immediately.'
The servants all rose and Lindir hesitantly followed suit. As they were leaving the room, he saw Glorfindel approaching from the opposite direction. Haldor was trailing behind him. Haldor looked unusually sullen.
Glorfindel noticed Lindir and smiled brightly at him. 'Your Lordship,' he greeted. 'Could you please come back into the study?'
Lindir turned around to head back to the study. His guards made to do the same, but Glorfindel waved a dismissive hand at them.
'Please wait in the passageway for him,' he said.
Then, gripping Lindir's arm, Glorfindel firmly guided Lindir into the study. Haldor trailed in behind them and closed the door with a snap, his face now looking almost black.
'Sit down, Lindir,' Glorfindel said, guiding him to one of the softest chairs in the room. Lindir sat down
'Is something wrong?' Lindir asked nervously, looking between Glorfindel and Haldor. Haldor scowled at him. Lindir hurriedly looked at Glorfindel and blinked in surprise. In contrast to Haldor, Glorfindel looked almost jubilant. 'Did something go wrong at the negotiations?' Lindir asked.
'Not at all,' Glorfindel said, flashing a charming smile at him. Lindir blinked again. The last time that Glorfindel had smiled so brightly at him had been when they had been travelling on the ship to Harlond.
He watched Glorfindel hoist himself onto the edge of his desk where he perched and raised his hands to his collar to undo the clasp of his cloak. 'In fact, the negotiations have not yet even begun. We only managed to contact your people this morning.
'Have you seen my father, then?'
Glorfindel looked at him in surprise. Then he laughed. 'Of course not,' he said. 'And I see that you think that I have spent the past three days attending to peace negotiations. That is not the case at all. I could not do such a task on my own even if I wished to do so, because Lord Lindo has placed a price on my head. No, I have been visiting the Gondolindrim camps. It is Master Erestor who has taken charge of communicating our wishes to negotiate with your father to the various clans. Earlier today, I received word from him: his people managed to contact your people this morning. Erestor's son, Moyel, is in charge of the contact team.
Lindir nodded, rather bewildered by Lord Glorfindel's good mood. Still, that was a good thing, wasn't it? He looked at Haldor and his brow knitted when he saw the resentment with which Haldor was regarding Glorfindel.
'We should receive your father's reply before the end of the week,' Glorfindel continued, pushing the cloak off his shoulders. It fell across the surface of the desk behind him with a heavy slap. 'Then, depending on the answer, you will be moved to either facilitate the agreed negotiations or to initiate talks for new negotiations.'
'Is it likely that my father will refuse to negotiate with you?' Lindir queried hesitantly.
'No.' Glorfindel got up from the desk and strode across the room to the window. He unlatched the shutters and pushed them wide open. 'It is hot in this room,' he said, looking back at him. 'How long were you working in here?'
'Since noon,' Lindir said, looking away from the desk, from which the cloak was slithering to the floor.
Glorfindel gazed thoughtfully at him for a few more moments and then his eyes suddenly sparkled and he said, 'As you will soon be leaving Harlond, what do you think of accompanying me out to the city centre later today? Just you and I?'
There was a choked noise from across the room and Lindir glanced at Haldor, who had visibly paled.
If Glorfindel had heard Haldor's noise of disagreement, he made no response. He did not even look at Haldor. Instead, he looked at Lindir.
'How do you feel about visiting the city gardens?' he asked.
'I...' Lindir nodded and smiled. 'I would like that very much,' he said.
'Good.' Glorfindel's eyes softened. 'And afterwards, I will take you to an excellent Sindarin restaurant.'
There was another choked noise and Lindir looked at Haldor. He stared when Haldor abruptly stood up, turned, and left the room. Lindir's brow knitted. He was certain that he had seen tears in Haldor's eyes. The door shut quietly. Lindir looked back at Glorfindel.
Glorfindel had turned his head to look back out of the window. He did not appear to have noticed that Haldor had left the room and Lindir opened his mouth to tell him. Then he hesitated, and then lowered his eyes. He was sure that Glorfindel had noticed. And besides, Haldor's condition was not his concern.
But then again...
'Your Lordship?' he ventured nervously.
'Hm?'
'Is Lord Haldor unwell?'
Glorfindel did not look at him; continuing to gaze out of the window. 'I do not think so,' Glorfindel said. There was a small smile on his face.
Lindir looked back at the door.
'Lindir.'
'Eh... yes?' Lindir looked back at Glorfindel. His eyes widened when Glorfindel suddenly turned his head towards him and flashed him another dazzling smile.
'Do you like flowers?' Glorfindel asked.
Lindir's cheeks coloured. 'Y-y-yes,' he stammered.
'Good.' And Glorfindel turned away from the windows and walked to the door of the study. There, he turned back and beckoned Lindir with an outstretched hand. 'Come,' he said. 'Come. I am an amateur gardener, and I would like a Green-Elf's educated opinion on the care of some native blossoms that I brought back with me.'
Lindir stood and nervously followed him out of the room.
Chapter Summary: Lord Glorfindel shows Lindir around his green house and Lord Elrond discovers Prince Erenion's sketch books.
'I have always been fascinated by the nectar guides of these flowers,' Glorfindel said, reaching out to grasp the blossom head and gently prise open the petal lips. 'Do you see the little brush handles?'
Their hands touched and Lindir's gaze slid to Glorfindel's long elegant hands, which were pale and smooth; the fingernails were neatly curved. Lindir wondered if Glorfindel put cream on his hands.
'Your Lordship!'
'Yes?'
They looked around from the pot of yellow snapdragons flowers and to the entrance of the small sunlit green house. Haldor was standing at the entrance, near to Master Erestor's four guards. He looked quite pale.
'May I speak with you?'
'Yes. Make it quick.'
Haldor nodded, swallowing, and entered the greenhouse. He looked quite nervous. When he neared, his gaze moved to Lindir.
'Could you wait outside, please, Lindir?' he requested.
Lindir looked at Glorfindel and the tall elf flashed a smile at him. 'Go and wait by the doors with your guards. This will be quite quick,' he said.
Lindir nodded and went over to the doors to stand with his guards. There, he began examining a languishing pelargonium with spotted blood-red petals, but as soon as he realised that he could overhear Glorfindel and Haldor's conversation, he stopped to listen.
'Why are you taking Lindo's son down to Harlond?' Haldor asked quietly. 'Is that not dangerous?'
'We need to treat him courteously,' Glorfindel said. 'Shutting him in a house all day is not necessarily safe and it does not improve his opinion of us at all.'
Haldor spluttered. 'I fail to see how taking him out of the house and down to the city will make him easy to guard,' he hissed. 'And why are you worried about his opinion of us? He seems happy enough in the house. And... and... are you listening to me?'
Lindir looked at the pair. Glorfindel had moved further down the aisle of snapdragons and arrived at a pot of yellow roses. There was no expression on his face. In contrast, Haldor's face had clouded. He looked angry and distressed.
'Of course, I am listening, Haldor,' Glorfindel said. The tall elf picked up a gardening knife and cut a long stemmed rose from the plant. He briefly examined the beautiful blossom head before turning and holding the cut flower out to Haldor with a smile.
Haldor's face tightened and he glanced sharply at Lindir, who hurriedly lowered his eyes. 'I do not want your flowers,' Haldor said sharply.
Lindir looked back up at them.
'As you wish.' Still smiling, Lord Glorfindel turned back to the pot of roses and placed the flower on top of the mulch that was spread around the plant's base.
'I didn't have to accompany you to the camps, you know.'
'I was surprised that you did accompany me,' Glorfindel said placidly, looking at the rose plant. 'I had expected you to go with Master Erestor and the rest of his escort to help them contact Lord Lindo's people.' He put down the knife.
'I was supposed to go,' Haldor said. His voice had coloured with resentment. 'Do you not know why I decided to accompany you?' He hesitated, before adding, 'To spend time with you?'
Glorfindel glanced sidelong at Haldor. His lips were still curved in a small smile. 'I appreciated your company and assistance, if that is what you mean.'
'That isn't what I meant!' Haldor snapped. 'Stop playing with me!'
Glorfindel looked back at the roses.
Haldor's face tightened. 'The reason...' he began uncomfortably, 'the reason is because... because I wanted to spend time with you.'
Glorfindel turned and continued walking down the aisle.
Haldor's face twisted with hurt and rage. 'Are you listening?' he hissed.
'Of course.' Glorfindel rounded the aisle and began walking back towards Haldor, his eyes fixed on the plants that now lay between them.
Haldor faltered. 'Then-then what do you think of how I feel?' he asked hesitantly.
'Should Master Erestor or your father raise the issue, I am not taking responsibility for your decision to avoid your duties and travel to the camps with me,' Glorfindel said calmly.
Haldor scowled. 'That is not an answer to my question! You are not listening!'
Glorfindel turned his head and looked up at the sky. 'It is getting late,' he said. 'I would like to take Lindir down to the city gardens before sunset. Are you...?'
'Why are you taking out time for him?' Haldor demanded furiously, interrupting him. 'Surely I deserve that time more than him?'
Glorfindel met Haldor's gaze and his brow knitted. 'The last I knew, peace lay between your father and the Gondolindrim Exiles,' he said. 'And you are not my dependent.'
'No, but I am your lover!' Haldor snarled. 'Why must I crawl after you? Why must I always crawl after you? Why does Lindo's son deserve your time and effort? You never showed any desire to devote time to that Green-Elf wench who became your ward in Forlond.'
'Haldor.'
'I am not blind to your feelings, Glorfindel, and you know this very well.' Haldor's voice was shaking. 'You may speak naught of him to me, but I am your lover! Why do you think so little of me? What is it that he has that I do not! I am still young. I take out time to tend to you. I try to keep in good temper. True, I am not as beautiful as him and I do not have his gentleness. I do not have those scars that...'
He stopped in surprise when Lord Glorfindel's right hand whipped out to seize Haldor by the front of his shirt.
'You are mistaken, Haldor,' Glorfindel interrupted coldly, gazing at him in disgust. 'You have answered your own question as to my disinterest in you with that aimless babbling. You have grossly insulted both Lindir and I.'
Haldor's face darkened with resentment. 'I have not insulted you,' he snapped.
'You have both insulted and disgusted me,' Glorfindel said angrily. 'And even if I were enamoured of Lindo's son, which I assure you I am not, then I advise you to look to his temperament for some guidance. He would not flaunt his connections to me in public, much less advertise his own seeming graces to cheapen them. It is called modesty and I advise you to learn it before you next venture to my rooms. In fact, do not venture to them at all before apologising to Lindir and I.'
He released Haldor, who staggered back, his eyes wide with shock.
Glorfindel turned away and walked around the aisle to make his way to where Lindir was standing beside the door. He smiled pleasantly down at Lindir, who blinked at him confusedly. The anger in Glorfindel's face had completely disappeared.
'We should make our way to the city gardens before it gets dark,' Glorfindel said politely. He raised his left hand to his head and absently patted down his hair.
'Eh... yes.' Lindir nodded.
Glorfindel turned to go and Lindir followed him. As he stepped out of the greenhouse, he looked back at Haldor, but Haldor wasn't facing them. He was gazing at the flowers.
Lindir's brow knitted. He pursed his lips. He wanted to go back to Haldor. But then he sensed Glorfindel looking at him, so he turned back and followed Glorfindel out into the gardens and back to the mansion.
Elrond was fitter than he had realised. He stood on the top of the cliff, about four hundred feet away from the silent house that Halmir claimed was occupied by Prince Erenion, and looked south-south-west to where the inlet was hidden behind an outcrop of rock and a thick canopy of trees.
It was not yet sun down, although that was fast approaching.
Smiling, Elrond turned towards the house and its small east-facing vegetable garden and made his way up the path that led to its front door. As he went, he looked all around for a sentry or some other kind of servant, but there was no sign of life.
He comforted himself with the thought that they were all inside having a meeting or something. Or that the guards were all hidden and they had recognised him, but not revealed themselves to stop him.
On reaching the front door, which was painted a cheerful bright red, he hoisted his bags off his shoulders and knocked. Whilst he waited, he rolled his shoulders back and rocked them from side to side, trying to massage the joints.
No one had answered the door by the time he had finished massaging his shoulders so he knocked again. Then he set about stretching his legs.
By the time that he had finished that (and knocked a third time), he started on stretching his back. Then his neck, arms...
When no one answered on his seventh series of knocks, he tried the door handle and to his surprise, found it unlocked. His brow knitted and he looked carefully at the handle. But there was no sign that it had been forced.
So he pushed open the door and peered inside the deserted entrance hall.
'Hello?' he called hesitantly. 'HELLO?' His voice echoed around the hall.
There was no answer, so Elrond carried his bags into the hall and shut the door behind him. Then he set about searching the building for signs of life.
There was no one in the drawing room. No one in the dining room. No one in the sitting room. No one in the winter room. No one in the library.
He went down a flight of stairs to what appeared to be a basement. As he had feared, both the kitchen and the laundry were deserted. On closer inspection, however, he discovered that there was fresh bread, fruit, cheese, and dried meat stored in a room at the back of the kitchen. In addition to these, there was a still warm dish of roast chicken and a covered earthenware pot that contained what appeared to be fish stew.
Maybe the household was out on an expedition or something?
Or maybe not.
Elrond turned and made his way back to the entrance hall. Then he ascended the stairs and began to inspect the rooms on the first story.
He opened the door of what appeared to be the master bedroom and quickly poked his head around the door. His eyes widened and he quickly drew back and as carefully and quietly as he might, closed the door.
He raised his hand to knock, recalled what he had just seen, and then lowered his hand. It would probably be best if he allowed the pair to finish their romantic escapade. Besides, Prince Erenion would probably not be in a decent mood to consider Elrond's situation regarding the crown of the Sindar and Noldor if he was interrupted in the middle of his dalliance with his... well, that other Noldo elf, the one who he had seen licking Erenion's chest.
Swallowing, Elrond turned and tiptoed back down the stairs to make his way into the drawing room. There, he sat down on the softest seat that he could find, picked up a book that was lying on a nearby table, and settled down to have a pleasant read.
He was quickly denied that when he opened the book and saw its contents. Obscene! He turned his head and gazed incredulously up at the ceiling in the general direction of the master bedroom.
'Well, if that is his taste,' he mused, looking back at the open pages of the book. He flicked to its front cover and confirmed his fears when he read the words, 'By Erenion'.
He got up and placed the book back onto the table on which it had originally sat. Then he exited the drawing room and headed to the library and its comfortable armchairs. He was sure that there would be some decent books on the shelves in that room.
Minutes later and he was again proved mistaken.
But by then, he had discovered a series of rather interesting leather-bound volumes by Erenion, which contained the semi-naked, naked, and copulating forms of a number of beautiful elves.
And more notably, Elrond recognised some of these elves. Some of them were quite influential, although Elrond doubted that they would be quite so influential if some of Erenion's sketches were reproduced and released to the general public.
Elrond hadn't known that Orodreth had been homosexual. He also had not known that Orodreth was quite agreeable to threesomes. And also agreeable to being sketched whilst doing it.
He also had not known what Lord Glorfindel looked like with mussed hair in bed. Neither had he ever cared to know before, but now he did. He raised a hand and carefully flattened down his own locks.
He stared at Gildor. At Celebrimbor...
Then he turned over a page and his newfound knowledge was shattered. His eyes widened and then he scowled at the quite accurate rendition of his own facial features as a twelve-year-old. So.
'He really is a pederast,' he muttered sourly, looking at the quite inaccurate depiction of his naked body. He flicked over the page and his face gradually darkened as he discovered more sketches of not just himself, but also his brother, Elros.
And then he came across another familiar face.
Lindir.
Elrond stared in disgust at the rendition and thrust the book onto the nearest unoccupied seat. How had Prince Erenion managed to get hold of Lindir to draw him? Elrond was unaware that Erenion had ever actively participated in Lindir's kidnapping.
Perhaps someone else had given him a sketch of Lindir's beautiful face and Erenion had happily gone about drawing the docile child into the most lewd forms imaginable. Elrond felt like throwing up.
He got up and returned to the drawing room. There, he sat back down in the softest seat and leaned his head back against the cushioned head of the seat.
It was cold in the room.
He hoped to get this meeting with Prince Erenion over and done with as soon as possible. Hopefully, so that he would not have to spend more than one night in the house of this repulsive elf and his lover.
Elrond shivered and looked at the window. Outside, the sun was setting and the sky had turned orange.
It was certainly cold in the room.
He drew his cloak closer about him and hugged a cushion to his chest.
Extremely cold.
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