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20 Elrond

Gwirith adjusted his saddle cloth and checked his bow and quiver were secure on his back. He wondered what Aragorn was doing just at this moment. Gwirith had stood here just a week ago to say goodbye to him when he had left Imladris bound for Dunland, where he would join the Dunedain again.

‘It is a pity you could not stay longer,’ said Elladan. ‘But I suppose you might return?’

‘Yes, I might,’ said Gwirith. ‘I am glad I came. I did not know how much I had missed the ways of the Noldor.’ He looked around the courtyard and beyond at the cliffs that surrounded the valley. ‘It reminds me of my home.’

‘Then you must return soon,’ came Elrond’s voice. Dressed for a journey in shades of muted brown and green, he was drawing on a pair of leather gloves and carrying a travelling pack.

‘Ada?’ said Elladan, surprised.

Elrond handed Gwirith a scroll in a decorated wooden scroll box.

‘Here is the message I wish you to give to Galadriel and Celeborn,’ he said. Elladan looked round at Elrohir, and they smiled at each other.

‘It looks as if you could just as easily give it to them yourself, ada,’ said Elladan. ‘Then Gwirith could stay with us a little longer.’

‘Are you expecting ada to travel without an escort, Elladan?’ said Elrohir, in invented shock.

‘Ignore these two, Gwirith. I am coming with you. There are things I must discuss in Lorien which are too urgent to wait for an answer to arrive by messenger.’

‘Let us come too, we will be your heralds, ada!’ cried Elladan.

‘And announce to all the Lord of Imladris is away from home? I think not, Elladan. Once I leave our borders, my lordship stays behind: I am merely someone travelling to visit his kin.’

‘Send our good wishes to our kin, then, ada, and come back swiftly.’

‘But ada, the equinox is in three days, you will miss it!’ said Elrohir suddenly. ‘How will you…’ he stopped suddenly and blushed.

‘I will survive, Elrohir. In these times our own pleasures must sometimes be put aside for more important matters. Now, come here,’ he held out his arms and hugged both his sons tightly for a long moment.

‘Behave yourselves while I am gone.’

He mounted his horse, and Gwirith did the same.

‘Farewell, my sons,’ called Elrond as they rode out of the courtyard and on to the path and began to climb the side of the valley. When they reached the end of the straight path, Elrond glanced round. Elladan and Elrohir were standing on the path just outside the courtyard, looking up at him, half a mile away. He raised his hand and hailed them, and saw them do the same. Then he turned and he and Gwirith urged on their horses, and in a moment the Last Homely House was out of sight.

Elrond insisted on haste, and for three days they rode from dawn until long after dusk, stopping only for the briefest possible times to eat and snatch a few hours’ sleep. It was about an hour after dusk on the third day when Elrond’s horse stumbled and he had to brace himself to stay on his back.

‘He is lame, Elrond,’ said Gwirith. ‘You must rest him.’

Elrond swung his leg over his horse’s neck and jumped to the ground.

‘We have forced them to a hard pace,’ he said, looking around at the landscape. They were on a low ridge crowned with ancient trees, unidentifiable in the dark. ‘No matter, this is a good place to stay until dawn. I can hear water nearby.’ He hoisted the saddle off his horse’s back and threw his pack down beside it.

‘Ah, I am weary,’ he said, stretching his arms above his head.

‘If you are stiff, I can ease you with body touch if you wish,’ said Gwirith, pulling his own saddle and pack under a tree. ‘I learnt it a long time ago in Eregion and have found the skill is still in my hands.’

‘Indeed that would be a pleasure,’ said Elrond. ‘But first I must wash. I love my horse, but I fear I smell too much like him after three days on his back.’

Gwirith laughed. ‘I will collect some wood for the fire,’ he said.

Half an hour later he had tended to the horses and was sitting by the small fire he had made in a useful dip between some stones. The moon had not yet risen, and although he heard his footfall he did not see Elrond until he came into the circle of light cast by the flames.

Elrond stood before him, stripped to the waist, his dark hair still dripping down his back. He glanced at Gwirith, then threw his tunic down and folded his long body up to sit comfortably close to the fire.

‘The stream is close by, as I thought,’ he said. ‘The water is cold and sweet; my body is glowing with it.’

Gwirith glanced round at him, but his eyes were distant. ‘I will wash in a moment,’ he said, absentmindedly. Elrond looked at him more closely, then reached for his shirt and tunic and began to put them on.

‘The wind is less chill tonight,’ he said. ‘and these trees give us some shelter. The Valar smile upon our journey.’

‘They are holly trees,’ said Gwirith. ‘We are at the marches of Eregion.’ He looked around him slowly. ‘I confess I both dreaded and longed to return, but there is nothing left but the voice of the wind.’ He fell silent and for a long time the only sound was the hiss of the flames and the soft tearing of the horses cropping the grass behind them.

‘The glory of the Noldor was here, and their bane,’ said Elrond quietly at last. ‘Although there is not a single stone left standing at Ost-in-Edhil, yet the work that was done at Eregion has brought us here on this night.’

‘The rings of power,’ whispered Gwirith.

‘The end of that story has not yet been told,’ said Elrond. ‘I must speak to Galadriel and Celeborn about what needs to be done. And to Thranduil too, if he will listen.’

‘Would that they had never been made!’ said Gwirith bitterly.

‘Indeed,’ said Elrond. ‘But they have made us what we are.’ He stretched his shoulders, making the little muscles crack. The sound seemed to break Gwirith’s mood, and he stood up.

‘I will go and wash,’ he said, rummaging about in his pack for some soap and clean clothes. ‘Then I will ease you as I promised.’

Elrond looked at him, and there was something unreadable in his eyes. Gwirith wondered what it was as he walked the short distance to the stream and stripped off his clothes. The water was icy and took away his breath, but soon he felt the warm glow that Elrond had described. He scrubbed himself with the tiny piece of soap that was all he had left, using the last of it on his hair.

Later as he stood on the bank, looking out over the edge of the ridge into the valley below, he remembered coming here with Alcarion four centuries before, and all at once he could see his face more clearly than he had since the day of his death. The moon was rising, and Gwirith saw that it was full: tonight was the equinox. But he had not celebrated it since Alcarion had died; and maybe now he never would. A wave of desolation washed over him, but he did not grasp hold of it, and it drifted through him, hroa and fea, and out into the night air. The grass was cool beneath his feet as he pulled on his clean shirt and breeches and turned back towards the fire.

‘Do you wish to eat?’ asked Elrond, holding out some lembas.

‘No, I have had enough today,’ said Gwirith, rolling up his dirty clothes and stuffing them into his pack. ‘Ah, here it is,’ he said, bringing out a small bottle. ‘Shall I begin now? You probably wish to sleep soon.’

‘There is no need for haste: we have had enough of that these last days,’ said Elrond. ‘Come and warm yourself first.’

Gwirith sat down and held out his hands to the fire. Silence fell between them and grew companionable. The moon was high in the sky now, and cast a cold silver light, but they were hidden from prying eyes by the tall holly and beech trees that surrounded them.

‘It is a long time since I have been out without a crowd of others, household or army,’ said Elrond pensively at last. He turned and saw that Gwirith was braiding his single long lock of hair.

‘Will you tell me now, about your hair?’ he said. Gwirith’s hands paused for an instant, then continued.

‘I did it in solidarity with a member of my company,’ he said quietly. ‘He was captured and tormented by the enemy, and his hair was cut.’

‘Celinn!’ breathed Elrond. Gwirith turned to him sharply. ‘Estel told me,’ said Elrond.

Gwirith turned away and his head sank down for a moment between his shoulders.

‘I did it to show him he was not alone. We all did it, all our company. But he is still alone.’

‘Maybe I could help him,’ said Elrond.

‘He will not accept any help,’ said Gwirith. ‘We have all tried to persuade him. There is no more to be done.’ It was clear from his voice that the subject was closed.

Elrond sighed deeply. ‘Well, let us talk of something else,’ he said peaceably.

‘Shall I work your muscles while you talk?’ said Gwirith. Elrond heard the apology in his voice.

‘That would be extremely pleasant,’ he said, and drew off his tunic and shirt. Gwirith reached for the bottle which had been warming on the edge of the fire and knelt behind him. Elrond’s back was broad and brown and pitted with five or six scars of different sizes.

‘You have suffered many wounds,’ said Gwirith as he began to smooth the oil onto his skin.

‘They are ancient scars,’ said Elrond. ‘I am Peredhil; I do not heal as cleanly as you would.’

Gwirith loosened Elrond’s shoulders and neck, pressing into the knotted muscles with his thumbs. Elrond sighed with pleasure.

‘You have a good touch,’ he breathed. ‘Firm and yet soothing. Long ago in Lindon, Gilgalad had a body servant whose touch was like being prodded with a blunt stick. I always tried to avoid him after fighting or hunting, but he insisted on doing his duty. I think I had more bruises afterwards than before. Ahh! That is good, Gwirith.’

Gwirith found himself relaxing also as his hands worked the long muscles of Elrond’s sides.

‘This is only the second time I have done this since Alcarion died,’ he said, half to himself.

‘Alcarion?’ said Elrond.

‘He was the other who was with me at Barad-dur when we found you. We were bound lovers,’ he said, surprised at how easy it was now to talk about it. ‘We grew up together in Eregion, and we came to Lorien together.’ His voice deepened a little. ‘After he died, I was nearly broken with grief. I dwelt alone in the forest, far from all others, until I was called to Caras Galadhon last year.’

He lifted his hands from Elrond’s back and came round to kneel in front of him.

‘And now your heart is engaged again,’ said Elrond quietly.

‘It will come to nothing,’ said Gwirith harshly. ‘I have already let him go.’ He busied himself with oiling his hands and reached out to lay them on Elrond’s chest, then stopped in surprise.

‘It is quite safe to touch,’ said Elrond wryly. ‘Remember I am only half an elf.’

Gwirith leaned forward and laid his hands gently on the dark curling hair, then pushed up towards Elrond’s shoulders with his palms.

‘Ah, Gwirith, you are wasted as a bowyer,’ groaned Elrond. ‘Truly you have the hands of a healer.’

Gwirith worked on in silence, the turmoil in his heart soothed as always by the work of his hands. He listened as Elrond talked at length about his father Earendil and about Gil-galad when he was High King in Lindon.

‘Sometimes I am lost in those days and can scarce remember he is gone and I am a loremaster and not a warrior any more,’ he said. ‘But here in Eregion, the shades of the Noldor still dwell, and their long fell story echoes in the stones.’

‘You are right, Elrond,’ said Gwirith, and his voice rang with a strange note. ‘Dwelling in Lorien so long, I had forgotten the stories of my forefathers. But here tonight they come alive again. It was bright Feanor whose fire gave the Noldor their love of beauty and surpassing craftsmanship, and it was that love that built the forges of Eregion. Among the trees and without Alcarion, I had forgotten who I am. Maybe my place is not in Lorien but in Imladris.’

‘And Celinn?’ said Elrond softly.

Gwirith’s hands stopped over Elrond’s heart.

‘He has chosen his life,’ whispered Gwirith. ‘My heart is his, but he says he can never love me. I do not know what to do.’

‘Will you pass long years without love and comfort, Gwirith, while you wait for him?’

‘I do not know,’ repeated Gwirith, not noticing Elrond’s hand resting on his.

‘And how is it, Gwirith, without the gift of the Valar?’ Elrond asked gently, lifting the long braid on Gwirith’s shoulder with one finger.

‘It is cold,’ he said, bleakly. ‘Cold and barren.’

Elrond looked at him, and his eyes were a deep grey. ‘Gwirith, there is something I must ask you,’ he said.

‘What is it?’ said Gwirith.

‘Do you know what night it is?’

‘It is the equinox.’

‘Yes, it is, the time of new growth.’

‘It is two hundred years since I have celebrated any festival,’ said Gwirith. ‘I am no companion for a night such as this.’

His looked down at his hands and seeing Elrond’s covering them, made to move away, but Elrond tightened his hold.

‘Share this night with me, Gwirith,’ he whispered. ‘It is the festival: a night apart from all others. What happens tonight happens out of time, and ends with the dawn. We are Noldor, in the Wild far from home. Let us make something of this night, before our bodies forget what it is to love, and forget those whose touch we long for but will never know again.’

His eyes shone with unshed tears in the firelight, and against his will, Gwirith softened towards him.

‘I do not think I can share it with you,’ he said sadly. ‘It is so long, I think I have forgotten how to love…and then…there is…’

‘Celinn,’ said Elrond. Gwirith nodded mutely, his mouth turning down with sadness.

‘Then let me comfort you for this one night, and we will both forget our longing. In the morning we will take up our journey, and when we reach Lorien I will offer him what healing I can give him, if your heart wishes it.’ There was a long silence. Gwirith had bowed his head, his hands still pressed to Elrond’s chest. Elrond shivered a little.

‘Gwirith?’ he said softly, at last. Slowly Gwirith raised his head, and seeing what was in his eyes, Elrond leaned forward until he was so close he could feel Gwirith’s breath on his lips. For a long time they stayed motionless, Elrond’s heart beating hard against Gwirith’s hands. Then Gwirith gave a little sigh and his lips parted, and Elrond closed the space between them and kissed him.

Gwirith gasped and shuddered, for at the feel of Elrond’s mouth on his, he became suddenly aware that his body was famished for the touch of another, skin on skin, and of all the long empty years that he had chosen to starve himself of that touch. Groaning with longing, Gwirith traced the shape of Elrond’s full lips with the tip of his tongue, and Elrond’s hands were on his face, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until they had to wrench themselves apart to take a gasping breath.

They stared at each other, eyes wide in the darkness, then Elrond took hold of his shirt and peeled it off in a single fluid movement, and, reaching over, got hold of the hem of Gwirith’s shirt and dragged it over his head. For a moment they were still, not touching, then Elrond pulled Gwirith to him gently and kissed him again. Gwirith’s hands were on Elrond’s chest, tangling in the curling dark hair he had found so strange, his fingertips finding the tiny points of pleasure and circling them until they hardened, making Elrond groan into his mouth.

‘You have forgotten nothing, Gwirith,’ he said thickly, and laying him back to stretch out by the fire, he took hold of his waist and began to run his tongue lightly across his skin, beginning at his navel and tracing a path over Gwirith’s strong compact stomach and lean sides. Gwirith writhed against him but Elrond held him firmly.

When he reached Gwirith’s chest, he stopped and looked at him. ‘I can taste the river on you,’ he said, his eyes shining in the firelight. Gwirith pulled him down and they kissed again, then Gwirith rolled Elrond over so that he was on his back, looking up into his blue-grey eyes.

‘You have the strong dark beauty of the Noldor,’ whispered Elrond. ‘How I have missed it!’

‘Do you always talk so much during lovemaking?’ asked Gwirith, covering Elrond’s mouth with his own. When at last he was able to breathe again, Elrond gasped,

‘Do you always talk so little?’

‘I have better things to do than talk,’ said Gwirith, and he straddled Elrond and, bending over him, fondled the sensitive tip of his ear before tracing it delicately with his tongue. Elrond cried out and arched his back, almost unseating him, but undaunted Gwirith did the same to the other ear, holding Elrond down with both hands on his chest. When at last he straightened up Elrond’s face was flushed and his eyes dilated.

‘How could I have forgotten such pleasure?’ he gasped. Gwirith smiled, transforming his serious features to astonishing beauty.

‘Elrond, we have scarce begun!’ he said, laughing, one hand caressing Elrond’s cheek. A moment later he found his wrist held in an iron grip as Elrond slid out from under him and pulled him to his feet.

‘Well, elfling, let us see what you have to teach me,’ he said, and releasing Gwirith’s wrist, he stripped off his breeches and stood naked in the cool air. Gwirith looked down and saw his hardness, and he rested his hand lightly on Elrond’s thigh.

‘It is you who will have to teach me,’ he said, in a voice of awe.

Elrond looked down at his erection. ‘Did you expect I would be just like an elf when half my blood is of the Secondborn?’ he said softly.

Gwirith did not answer, but instead took his hand and led him to a tall beech tree nearby, gently pushing him against the smooth trunk. Then he knelt down before him and gently pressed his face into Elrond’s groin, caressing Elrond’s manhood with his cheek. Elrond gasped and his cock jerked upwards, and Gwirith slowly turned his face and let Elrond slide into his mouth. Elrond gasped again and seized hold of his cropped head, pushing him down so that he was fully sheathed between Gwirith’s lips.

Gwirith took hold of Elrond’s hips and held him firm against the tree while he worked him with his mouth. Elrond was groaning out loud now, his eyes closed and his hands gripping the trunk of the tree, lost in pleasure. Gwirith closed his eyes too, tasting the sweet musk of Elrond’s juices, running his tongue along the slick ridges of his thick cock. When he felt Elrond begin to tremble in the moment before release, he slid his hand between his legs and pushed gently against the tight cleft between his buttocks. Elrond shuddered and cried out and Gwirith tasted his essence, stronger and saltier than that of an elf.

Gwirith leaned back on to his heels, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Elrond was slumped against the tree, breathing hard, and, seeing Gwirith looking up at him, he smiled and sank to his knees.

‘I had forgotten…’ he said in a dazed voice, and he took Gwirith’s face in his hands and kissed him long, savouring the tang of his own seed on his lips.

At last Elrond got to his feet, and pulled Gwirith up with him.

‘You are patient, Gwirith, but I must not keep you waiting any longer,’ he said, and he took him over to a flat stone which reached to waist height near the top of the ridge. Then he pulled Gwirith close to him so that their bodies were pressed tightly together from chest to knee.

‘Shall I ease you as you did me, or do you wish to enter me?’ he said hoarsely.

Gwirith did not reply, instead turning Elrond so that he had his back to the stone and pushing him gently so that he was sitting on its edge. Then he reached for the bottle of oil tucked in his waistband and put it down next to Elrond before taking off his breeches.

Elrond had already poured some oil into his hand and he drew Gwirith closer to him and began to anoint his cock in slow languorous strokes. Gwirith’s lips parted but he made no sound as the sweet juices began to weep from his cock and mix with the oil in Elrond’s hand. At last he stopped Elrond and pushed him back to lie on the stone before beginning to loosen the tight cleft between his legs. Elrond groaned as Gwirith pushed one oiled finger and then two into him, and when he was ready, Gwirith pressed to tip of his cock against the entrance to Elrond’s body and tilted his hips forward. Elrond’s knees fell apart and he arched his back a little to admit him, and after two or three thrusts he was deep inside, pressing down on Elrond’s thighs with both hands. For a long time both Elrond and Gwirith stayed motionless, enjoying the deep pleasure of being joined one to the other. Then Gwirith felt a wave of movement rippling through his pelvis and slowly began to thrust into the tight heat of Elrond’s body, rolling forwards until they were locked together and then slowly easing out until Elrond cried out with the loss of him. Gradually he began to move more quickly, pumping harder until they were both crying out with each thrust. Gwirith lost himself then, no longer knowing where he was or with whom he lay, knowing only the blind pleasure of his body until the moment when he spilt himself inside Elrond, and then he opened his eyes and saw the elf-lord stretched out before him, eyes closed and arms flung out either side of him on the hard grey stone.

Slowly Gwirith slid out of Elrond’s body. Elrond opened his eyes then and gave him the same dazed look as before. Gwirith waited for him to speak, but instead he sat up and smiled at him, then reached out and caressed his cheek. Gwirith wrapped his arms around him, running his fingers through the liquid silk of his hair. When at last Elrond stood up and turned him to lie face down against the rock he did not resist, and soon Elrond’s fingers and then his cock entered him. At first Gwirith tensed against the pain of it, but Elrond was gentle and slow and steadied him with his hands on his hips, and when he felt the shudder and throb of Elrond’s release inside him he came again, more gently than before but with a pleasure that warmed him deep into his groin.

It was full night by now and a chill wind was blowing high on the ridge. Gwirith straightened up and Elrond drew him into his arms.

‘Your skin is cold,’ he said. ‘In our heat we have neglected you.’

‘Let us go to the river,’ said Gwirith. ‘The water will revive us.’

They ran the short distance to the river and threw themselves into the water, and soon their bodies began to hum at its touch. It was too cold to stay in long so they got out and stood dripping on the bank.

‘We must sleep now,’ said Elrond. ‘Otherwise we will not be fit to travel in the morning.’ Gwirith nodded, a little sadly.

‘But let me undo your braid first, Gwirith, it is tangled.’ Elrond reached up and undid the tie and passed his fingers through the plaited hair.

‘It is so dark, it has blue lights in it,’ he said in admiration.

‘And yours has red, like deep flame,’ said Gwirith, his voice husky with cold. Their eyes met then, and then their mouths, and they made love again on the bank of the river, never noticing the sharp little stones that cut into their flesh. Afterwards they had to wash again, rinsing off blood and seed together.

At last they lay together by the fire, covered by their blankets. Gwirith’s head was on Elrond’s breast, and their arms were tight round each other. It was as Elrond had said, a night outside time, and when the sun rose they would be elf-lord and escort again, but for now they lay as lovers in each other’s arms, their bodies warm with the memory of union, tonight and on nights in years long past.

But in the cold hour before dawn, Gwirith woke suddenly, and though his body was relaxed and sated with pleasure, a creeping ache was beginning around his heart. He huddled closer to Elrond, and the elf-lord sighed in his sleep and tightened his arms around him; but the ache grew worse, until the tears came and eased it a little. Elrond stirred and woke then, gazing at him with eyes as dark as the night sky above them. He did not speak, but with one finger traced the lines the tears had made on his cheeks.

‘Your heart still longs for Celinn,’ he said softly at last. ‘And when I woke I thought you were Gil-galad sleeping in my arms. Our bodies know joy, but our hearts are unquiet.’

‘Is there no way to forget this pain?’ said Gwirith harshly.

‘No, there is no way to forget. All we can do is to open ourselves to it with kindness, and give it a place to dwell in our hearts.’ Elrond wiped the last of the tears from Gwirith’s face. ‘But Celinn may yet be yours,’ he said softly. ‘While you both live, there is hope.’

‘You are generous,’ said Gwirith. ‘You speak to me of hope while for you and Gil-galad there is none.’ He closed his eyes but more tears leaked out from under his eyelids and he brushed them away roughly.

‘None until the end of Arda,’ said Elrond gently. ‘Not even the wisest among us knows what is our fate in the mind of the One.’

‘But how do you bear your loneliness? When I lived alone in the forest, I did not know my loneliness; then I called it solitude. But now it pains me like a wound.’

‘I try to bear it lightly; to know it well, not to refuse it; but not to hold it to me either.’ His voice suddenly changed, becoming desolate and weary. ‘But if the pain becomes too sharp, then I pretend to myself that there are ways to forget.’

‘How?’ said Gwirith desperately.

Elrond looked away and did not answer.

‘Like this?’ said Gwirith, lacing his fingers into Elrond’s hair and turning him towards him.

‘Remembering does not work; this time let us try to forget,’ he said in a shaking voice.

Elrond looked into his blue-grey eyes, and Gwirith thought that he would refuse him. But in that cold bleak hour, loneliness seemed to both to be the only truth, and obliterating it essential to survival.

Their coming together was swift and without tenderness, each seeking only to drown in his body’s tide; but when he came, harshly, painfully, Gwirith cried out Celinn’s name, and he wept. Elrond could not comfort him, his own grief being too sharp.

They lay apart and in silence until the first light of dawn touched the sky, then rose and bathed in the stream. All day they rode, dour and melancholy, and far into the night, stopping at the foot of Caradhras. They ate sparingly and, Elrond taking the first watch, Gwirith at once rolled himself into his cloak and slept like the dead. When it was his turn to watch, he stood at some distance, looking out in the moonlight over the misty peaks.

They were on their way before dawn, climbing the track to the Redhorn Gate. The ice between them had thawed a little, but it was later when Gwirith’s horse missed his footing and stumbled that Elrond put out his hand to steady him, and with that touch they came back to themselves and forgot their sadness.

That night while they ate by the fire, Gwirith watched Elrond combing out his dark hair.

‘I am sorry,’ he said gruffly. ‘I should not have asked you that last time.’

Elrond smiled. ‘I have lived long enough to know oblivion brings pain on waking,’ he said. ‘Let us remember the pleasure and comfort we gave one another. That will be enough.’

‘Do not think because I called for him that I will not keep this night in my heart, Elrond,’ said Gwirith. ‘I was afraid, and I agreed to lie with you because it was the festival. But you have given me something beyond words. Celinn has brought my heart back to life, but you have woken my body.’

‘And you mine,’ said Elrond, quietly. ‘And now we have woken, we must go back to lack and loneliness as before.’

‘Maybe it will not be so. Maybe since we are changed, things will change around us.’

‘Think you?’ said Elrond. ‘You have more faith than I.’ He put down the comb and began braiding his hair. ‘Will you stay in Lorien?’ he said quietly.

‘That depends on Celinn,’ said Gwirith. ‘Now my body has known pleasure again, I do not know if I can live in longing which will never be satisfied. He sent me away because my love hurt him too much; maybe in time it will come to hurt me also.’ He fell silent, frowning into the fire.

‘I will do what I can to help him, Gwirith,’ said Elrond.

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It was five days after full moon when Elrond and Gwirith came at last to the northern fences of Lorien. They rode in to Caras Galadhon just before dusk and left their weary mounts at the stables by the guardroom, before going to the lawn of the fountain and seeking an audience with Galadriel and Celeborn. As they stood at the foot of the great talan, Gwirith said,

‘Do you wish me to use your title now that we are back in Lorien?’

‘I do not ask it,’ said Elrond. ‘After what has passed between us, it would be foolish.’

Both Lord and Lady welcomed them warmly; Galadriel was very merry and looked at them both with knowing eyes. Gwirith delivered the scroll box into her hand, though with Elrond by his side it seemed rather superfluous. Soon he asked permission to withdraw, and it was given. Elrond walked with him to the edge of the talan.

‘I will stay some time in Lorien, Gwirith. Think on my words: I will help Celinn if he wishes it.’ He paused. ‘And if you wish it,’ he said quietly. ‘I would do this for you because my heart has been touched by you.’

‘And mine by you,’ said Gwirith, smiling at him.

‘But know also that you may travel back to Imladris with me when I return,’ said Elrond. ‘I ask nothing of you, Gwirith. I only offer you a place where you might find peace amongst your own.’

Gwirith said nothing, and looking into his eyes, Elrond said, ‘The choice is yours. I will not speak of it more.’

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‘I am surprised Curunir has not spoken of it,’ said Elrond late that night as he sat with Galadriel at the long table high up in her talan. ‘Can he really know nothing of what is going on just outside his own borders?’

‘His attention is always turned towards Mordor: it may be that he is too occupied with watching to see what is closer to home,’ said Galadriel. ‘At least we have learnt a great deal from Haldir’s careful work. He and the pellarim -those who were able to- brought back what they could to help us understand more about the purposes of these men. Let me call him, and he will tell you himself.’

Galadriel went to the edge of the talan and spoke a word to the white-cloaked guard who stood at the top of the ladder. A few minutes later Haldir was standing before them, describing what he had found.

‘We judge that these men had travelled some distance during the year, beginning in Dunland and coming through the Gap of Rohan past Isengard to the Vale of Anduin, then far into the north before returning to Dunland for the winter. Adanwath’s band was only one of many, and it seems he spent longer than most around south Anduin in order to prey on the villages there. We know this because we found coins from Rohan and Dunland in the men’s possession, and wine and pottery from north Anduin in their camp. And of course we have the intelligence Aragorn gathered when he lived among the men, and Degil’s account, telling us what Adanwath’s woman, Marial, revealed about him after his death.’

‘What did she say?’ said Elrond, fascinated.

‘At first, nothing at all. She was terrified that he would find her and harm her, even though the Dunedain promised to keep her and her child safe. When Aragorn told them that Adanwath was dead, it seems she was relieved and distressed in equal measure, and agreed to speak in return for the kindness she had been shown. She said they had fallen in with an outlaw band near the Gladden Fields the year they fled from Mirkwood, and they travelled back to Dunland with them when winter approached. That was when Adanwath changed his name from Madoc. He quickly rose to become the leader of one of these bands and they went out each year on their journey along Anduin.’

‘Could she say what was the purpose of these journeys?’

‘She could not, nor did she know why they were to travel so far from Dunland each year. She disliked the nomadic life she has led for so many years, and is grateful to the Dunedain for giving her a settled home.’

When Haldir had left them, Galadriel said, ‘There is something behind this, but I cannot see what it is.’

‘You have looked in your mirror?’

Galadriel nodded. ‘Sauron grows in power, and his gaze is widening, but his specific purposes are not clear to me. These men may be acting purely out of their own greed and spite, but my instinct tells me there is more.’

‘Of course Sauron will want to find the Ring. You know that is why I came in person to speak to you; you must have felt it, Galadriel. The Ring is active again.’

Galadriel was silent for a while, then she said, ‘I have felt it, but I do not know why.’

‘Think you that Sauron is calling the Ring to him?’ said Elrond.

‘It may be,’ she said. ‘Or possibly it seeks him.’

They looked at each other, neither wishing to be the first to say it.

‘Or maybe someone has found it, and is using it,’ said Elrond quietly at last.

They looked down at the rings on their hands, Nenya, Galadriel’s of clear adamant, and Vilya, Elrond’s of sapphire blue.

‘You are right, Elrond,’ said Galadriel. ‘It is time for the White Council to meet again. We must summon Cirdan to come from Lindon. Will you send to Thranduil or shall I?’

‘He will not come,’ said Elrond.

‘But it concerns him even more closely than the rest of us, now that the Ulairi are at Dol Guldur again.’

‘That is why he will not come,’ said Elrond. ‘I would not leave Imladris when it was threatened by the enemy, even at so great a distance from my own halls as Dol Guldur is from Thranduil’s.’

‘And Mithrandir?’ said Galadriel.

‘He goes and comes as he wills, and cannot be summoned. We can only hope that chance will bring him to us.’ Elrond sighed deeply.

‘You are thinking of Estel,’ said Galadriel gently. Elrond nodded.

‘My heart tells me that of all the fosterlings who have dwelt under my roof, his doom will be the hardest. Already he has been brought face to face with the hard truth that even the most honourable intentions may yield unexpected and shattering evil.’

‘And Celinn was caught unwitting in that evil, between the hatred of Adanwath and whatever dark purpose was at work behind him.’

‘I regret that very much, Galadriel. I have heard his story, both from Estel and from Gwirith.’ said Elrond.

Galadriel looked at him closely. ‘Gwirith was a good companion on your journey, I think,’ she said quietly.

Elrond looked away. ‘Yes, he was,’ he said. ‘It is a long time since I have met someone from Eregion.’

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‘A hound?’ said Gwirith.

‘Yes,’ said Luinil. ‘Aragorn has given it into his keeping until he returns.’

‘When will that be?’

‘He did not say. Gwirith, help me with this knot. We cannot attend the feast in honour of Elrond looking like…what is that word men use?’

‘Peasants.’

‘How strange,’ said Luinil, standing still while Gwirith worked on the tangled linen tie caught at the end of his braid. ‘I suppose it is a little like the way we Noldor used to speak of the Sindar in past Ages, before we knew their ways.’ Gwirith’s fingers paused an instant in their work, then moved again.

‘Is the lutir completed, Luinil?’

‘No,’ said Luinil sadly. ‘After you left, Haldir decided Celinn was not ready to take up the captaincy yet, and he extended the time. And he has not given your place in the company to anyone else.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Did you like Imladris? You have told me nothing about it yet.’

‘Since I returned yesterday you have been on duty, Luinil. There,’ he said, handing his brother the tie. ‘Hurry, now, or we will arrive last.’

‘Tell me while I dress,’ said Luinil, sitting on his bed and pulling on dark blue breeches.

‘It was very beautiful. Luinil, it reminded me of home.’

Luinil paused and looked up at him. ‘Truly? How?’

‘Because Elrond is Noldor, and so are many who dwell there. I had forgotten how different are the ways of the Galadhrim from ours.’

‘But the Lady is Noldor,’ said Luinil, putting on a pale blue shirt and smoothing it down.

‘Yes, but she has taken many of the ways of the Galadhrim. Do not she and her Lord dwell high up in a tree? In Eregion we lived on the earth.’

Luinil looked doubtful. ‘But this is our home now, Gwirith. You are not thinking…’

‘I do not know what I will do,’ said Gwirith quickly. ‘Elrond has told me I may go back with him to Imladris if I wish.’

Luinil’s face was suddenly pinched and cold. ‘You would not leave me again,’ he whispered.

‘You could come with me,’ said Gwirith.

‘But Celinn…’

‘He has told me he will never love anyone, Luinil,’ said Gwirith bitterly. ‘He sent me away. Am I to wait an Age for nothing? I have woken from a long sleep: I do not want to close my eyes again.’

Luinil stood up and slowly came to Gwirith’s side.

‘Do you no longer love him, Gwirith?’ he asked.

It was a long time before Gwirith answered.

‘It is not that. My heart is his still,’ he said quietly.

‘After you left, Gwirith,’ said Luinil, ‘he came to find you, not knowing you had gone. He was full of remorse for the way he had spoken to you.’

‘Maybe so,’ said Gwirith, his voice a little gentler. ‘But he fears his healing, and without it he will never love again.’

Luinil turned away, going over to the table by his bed and picking up his comb. ‘Maybe you are right,’ he said, drawing it through his hair. ‘Well, tell me more of Imladris. Did you find Lord Elrond a pleasant host?’

Gwirith glanced away momentarily, but Luinil had seen his face.

‘Gwirith! Is that the long sleep from which you have woken?’

In two paces Gwirith was by his side, holding his shoulders.

‘Luinil, it was bliss! It was the night of the festival. I had forgotten…so much! But now my body has remembered.’

Luinil looked him up and down. ‘Indeed, there is a new energy about you. I thought something was different, but told myself it was just my joy at seeing you home. And are you…promised to each other?’

‘No, it was a gift for the festival. There is no binding.’

‘But…Celinn?’

‘It has only increased my longing for him,’ said Gwirith, painfully. Luinil took him in his arms and held him gently.

‘My poor brother,’ he said, ‘I remember that pain.’

‘I am sorry, Luinil. You who have known him must find it even more difficult to be deprived of him,’ said Gwirith against his shoulder.

‘I am reconciled to it,’ said Luinil calmly. ‘I told you a long time ago that nothing would separate us again, not even Celinn. He will not turn to me now, but I wish with my whole heart that he will be yours one day. Do not look so sad; now that Elrond is here, he may know something which may avail.’

‘Celinn will never ask it,’ said Gwirith.

‘Something will stir him, Gwirith. He has come far already with your help. It is only a small step further.’

‘Elrond told me he would do all he could to help him.’

‘Then let us go to the feast and the celebrate the kindness of your most generous lover!’ said Luinil taking up his cloak.

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‘Never in my long life have I seen such an abundance of cropped elven heads,’ said Elrond to Galadriel, looking out over the lawn of the fountain at the guests who milled around between the tables spread with food and drink. The trees had been hung with lights and music seemed to flow from every corner of the lawn; but the ripple of the fountain’s voice could still be heard.

‘There are only eight in the company,’ said Galadriel.

‘I can see seven,’ said Elrond. ‘Three dark, one red and three blond.’

Galadriel scanned the crowd. ‘Celinn is not here,’ she said, and Elrond heard the echo of concern in her voice.

‘Do you think I could help him?’ he said quietly. ‘Estel has told me what he suffered.’

‘If he would let us, we both could, but I do not know when he will be ready to be helped, my dear. We of all people know that even our powers of healing do not always avail.’ They looked at each other, remembering Celebrian and the months they had spent trying to restore her to wholeness without success.

‘It is because of her that I cannot watch others suffer without offering my help,’ he said quietly. ‘I cannot bear the thought of one more having to endure what she did without hope.’

Galadriel took his hand and pressed it to her lips. ‘The chance may come, and if it does we will be ready,’ she said, and she pointed out a tall slender elf who had just appeared and was standing alone outside the circle of light cast by the lanterns hanging on the mellryn.

‘So that is Celinn,’ said Elrond, and all at once he shivered. ‘By Elbereth, how cold he is!’

‘You know why he is so cold,’ said Galadriel, and her voice rang with pity. ‘Elrond, help him if he will let you, for his sake and for Gwirith’s.’

Something sounded in her voice and Elrond turned sharply to her.

‘It is Celinn who woke Gwirith’s heart,’ she said. ‘If you force him to choose between Lorien and Imladris, he will be torn in two.’

‘He is strong,’ said Elrond. ‘He will survive.’

‘Do not ask him, my dear. A year ago he was as broken as Celinn is now. Do not break his healing because you are lonely.’

Elrond made a sound of pain and turned away, but she turned him back to face her.

‘You will find comfort again, dear husband of my daughter. You have not woken again for nothing.’

He gazed long into her face, and at last her steadfastness soothed him and he sighed deeply.

‘You who have looked on the light of the two trees; you see more than I ever could,’ he said.

‘No. You have gifts that are yours alone, child of a star,’ said Galadriel.

They gazed up then at Earendil, circling the sky with the Silmaril bound to his brow, and Elrond’s hand tightened in Galadriel’s. He felt a light pressure on his shoulder and saw that Celeborn had joined them. And though he had lived long ages under the sun and moon of Arda, just now with these two beside him he felt as young as Estel.

Elrond looked over at Celinn, still standing absolutely motionless in the shade of a great mallorn, but now he saw the intensity of his concentration and, following his gaze, saw that it was focused on Gwirith, who was talking with animation to two or three others of his company. But as if he felt the force of Celinn’s attention, he turned a little and looked out towards the darkness, and then he saw Celinn standing alone, and he too became as still as a pillar of stone. Even from where he stood, Elrond felt the shock as their eyes met, and Celinn was freed from his immobility as suddenly as if a spell had been lifted from him. It was then that Elrond noticed the young hound who was sitting at his feet, but who leapt up and followed close on his heels as Celinn pushed his way through the crowd until he came to Gwirith’s side.

They spoke very little to each other, but there was something in the way they stood, a small distance apart, which made the air gather round them, as though in that moment they were separate from all the others on the lawn of the fountain.

‘They belong together,’ he said quietly, ‘though they have not yet come to the moment of knowing it.’

Galadriel nodded in silence, and after a few moments Elrond turned away, feeling as if he were intruding on something private.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

‘Gwirith, you are back,’ said Celinn. He stood tall and straight and smooth-browed, but Gwirith felt the discord in his fea.

‘Yes, I am back,’ said Gwirith quietly. His heart beat slow and deep in his chest as he looked again on Celinn’s face.

Celinn said, ‘I came to find you after…’ He stopped abruptly and looked away. After a moment he turned back to Gwirith. ‘You had already gone.’ He swallowed visibly. ‘I am sorry, Gwirith. I was cruel and thoughtless. Forgive me.’ He spoke harshly, as though demanding what was already his.

Maybe it was his tone that stung Gwirith to unaccustomed severity.

‘I forgive you freely, Celinn. But neither of us can deny the truth of your words: what I have to give you, you cannot receive. Indeed it harms you for me to offer it. And it harms me to have it refused so many times.’ He looked away, his face full of hopelessness. ‘Even now we cause each other pain; maybe it is best if I stay away from you as you told me to do.’

Celinn gasped. The hound that was sitting at his feet thrust his nose into Celinn’s hand as if he were aware he needed comfort, and at the same moment Galadriel’s voice said,

‘Celinn, Lord Elrond has asked to meet you.’

‘I wanted to thank you for what you did for my foster son,’ said Elrond, taking in the tension that filled the space between Celinn and Gwirith. ‘I wished to ask whether there is any service I may do for you in return.’

Celinn’s face was pale, and the long scar showed faintly on his cheek, but when he spoke his voice was calm and steady.

‘It was an honour to fight at his side, my Lord. I need no recompense for that,’ he said.

Elrond looked deep into his eyes. ‘If there is ever anything I can do for you, you have only to say. I am in your debt,’ he said gravely.

‘There is no debt, my Lord,’ said Celinn, simply.

‘You are most gracious,’ said Elrond. ‘I know you have paid a high price for my son’s impulsiveness.’

Celinn’s eyes flickered away for a moment. ‘He has the impulsiveness of one who is young, but the courage of a Man full grown,’ he said. ‘All my company honour him for the burden he carries for us all.’

Elrond bowed with all the dignity of the Lord of Imladris, but his face was that of a father joyful at hearing his child praised. He asked to be introduced to the rest of the company then, and stood speaking to them of the defence of Lorien and the other Elven lands. Bran whimpered then, and put up his paw on Elrond’s arm.

‘Have we left you out of the introductions, then?’ said Elrond, smiling and fondling the hound’s ears.

‘This is Bran,’ said Celinn. ‘He belongs to Aragorn. He left him in my care.’

‘Bran!’ said Elrond, kneeling down to look into the hound’s face. ‘Gwirith,’ he said, reaching absentmindedly for his hand. ‘He is the image of Gil-galad’s hound, Ra.’ Gwirith leaned lightly on Elrond’s shoulder for a moment and smiled at him with affection. Elrond stood up again, and the hound removed one paw from Celinn’s feet and placed it on Elrond’s, so that he had them both secured within his sphere.

Celinn stayed a little apart, watching the elf-lord, and after a while he began to see how from time to time he laid his fingers on Gwirith’s arm when he turned to ask him a question, and how Gwirith leaned closer to listen, curving his body slightly towards him. They must have felt his scrutiny because in the middle of a look they both half turned and met his eyes. Elrond dropped his gaze at once and continued to talk without pausing, but Gwirith held it for a moment longer, and a faint colour came into his cheeks before he looked away.

At last Galadriel said she would take Elrond to speak to Haldir, who was standing by one of the tables with his brothers, and after many courtesies, they left the company to their own conversation. Celinn turned at once, Bran at his side, and strode away, but Aiglin followed him and caught him up. They exchanged what seemed from a distance like heated words, then parted, Aiglin returning alone.

‘I told him it would be a discourtesy to Elrond to leave so early, but he said he is very tired,’ Aiglin said to the company in general. ‘I thought he could have stayed a little longer, especially since we are off duty now until the half moon.’

‘Leave him be,’ said Gwirith. ‘He still finds it hard to be among many others. I remember the feeling well.’

‘But we can see that you have been with one other, envoy of Lorien to Imladris,’ said Aiglin. ‘An elf-lord, no less!’

‘It was a gift for the festival, no more,’ said Gwirith, smiling. ‘Though he seems serious and stern, he is kind.’

‘We had much kindness here at the equinox also,’ said Sirion, wryly, and they all laughed. ‘You must beware, Gwirith,’ he went on. ‘He will frighten away all your other suitors.’

Gwirith joined in the general merriment, but his heart ached with loneliness even in the midst of his fellows.

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Much later that night, while the last signs of the feast were being removed from the lawn of the fountain, Gwirith walked with Elrond at the elf-lord’s request in the forest near the Lord and Lady’s talan. They spoke of Celinn.

‘You say he is a singer,’ said Elrond.

‘Yes, and a harpist.’

‘And he loves water?’

‘That is why I thought of him so much at Imladris, though I had tried to escape him.’

‘I will think on it. Each one of us is unique in terms of healing. It is the healer’s task to discern how the fea may best be reached and restored.’

‘But how will you persuade him to seek healing?’

‘I will not persuade him. We must wait for the change to come from him.’

‘Then I fear it will never come,’ said Gwirith, sorrowfully, his head sinking down on to his chest.

Elrond reached out and took his face between his hands and looked deeply into his eyes. ‘Do not despair, my dear,’ he said gently. ‘The moment will come, maybe when we least expect it.’

Gwirith drew in a breath to reply but all at once there was a sound of movement in the trees, and Elrond looked up to see Bran bounding towards them. A few paces behind him, Celinn stood motionless, awkward and distressed. His blond head and pale face shone clear against the velvet green darkness of the forest. Gwirith made to turn to see who was there, but Elrond’s hands tightened on his face and held him still. Then Bran came up to him and thrust his nose into his hand, and Gwirith knew who was near, and his heart sank as he thought of the picture he and Elrond must present, alone and intimate in the moonlight.

‘Bran,’ said Celinn, softly, and the hound turned at once and loped to his side. ‘I did not mean to disturb you,’ he said calmly to Elrond, but the elf-lord felt the ripple of pain emanating from Celinn’s fea. ‘The hound is young; he goes where he will, and I follow.’

‘Celinn, come here,’ said Elrond, the words ringing in the silence.

A shadow of obstinacy passed across Celinn’s face, but he took a few steps forward.

‘Closer,’ said Elrond, in a voice that would not brook a refusal. With extreme reluctance, Celinn approached, and when he was within arm’s reach, Elrond dropped his hands from Gwirith’s face and turned him round to face Celinn.

‘Whatever you think you have seen, Celinn,’ said Elrond, his hands resting lightly on Gwirith’s shoulders, ‘Gwirith’s heart does not belong to me.’

There was a long silence. Gwirith and Celinn would not meet each other’s eyes. At last Celinn said gently,

‘I would be blind if I could not see the love between you, my Lord. I can feel it in the air even now.’

‘Celinn,’ said Gwirith in an agonised voice, but Elrond cut him off.

‘There is love between us, Celinn. You are not mistaken. We are friends, and we have shared a long and pleasurable night.’

Gwirith gasped. Celinn said nothing, but he became very still.

‘Celinn,’ said Elrond quietly. ‘The love I share with Gwirith is not the same as the love he has for you.’ Gwirith felt his hands tighten on his shoulders, then Elrond released him and stepped back, away from him. ‘We came together in loneliness, to celebrate the festival, but we are not bound to one another.’

At last Celinn said in a thin, choking voice, ‘Why should Gwirith not find pleasure with you, my Lord? I know that he loves me, but I can give him nothing in return. He is free to do as he pleases. Even he has told me it is better if we part.’

He lifted his gaze to Elrond, and at the sight of the pain in his face the elf-lord had to hold himself back from flinching.

‘If you love him, my Lord, then it is only what he deserves,’ he said, then turned to Gwirith. ‘Forget me,’ he said softly, ‘and take what is offered to you. Do not wait for a happiness you will never find with me.’

Gwirith took a staggering step forward, and there were tears on his face.

‘Celinn, do you think it is even possible for me to forget you, let alone to find happiness without you?’ he said harshly.

Celinn frowned and crossed his arms protectively over his chest. ‘Do not say that, Gwirith. I cannot bear the weight of your longing,’ he whispered.

‘You say you have nothing to give him,’ cut in Elrond in a clear strong voice. ‘But if you were whole, would you turn to him then?’

Celinn stared at him, wide-eyed and terrified, but he spoke defiantly.

‘My lord, it is not for you to ask me that,’ he said.

‘You are right,’ said Elrond. ‘But if you were to answer me, this could be ended once and for all. Tell Gwirith now that even were you whole, you would not love him, and then he will know that even your healing would not bring him what he desires. It would be merciful to spare him the torment of uncertainty that you see him enduring now, and it would free him to grieve for the loss of this love and to seek another with a clear heart.’

‘You do not understand, my Lord,’ Celinn said wearily, and he passed his hand blindly over his face. Sitting down stiffly amid the scattering of mallorn leaves that lay on the path, Celinn wrapped his arms around his legs and brought his cheek down to rest on his upraised knees. Bran flung himself down beside him with a similar gusty sigh and laid his head on his paws. A long time passed, so long that it seemed Celinn might have fallen asleep.

‘So you cannot say it, Celinn?’ Elrond said quietly. Slowly Celinn shook his head.

‘But I have nothing to give to anyone,’ Celinn said softly half to himself, looking past Elrond into the dark forest. ‘I cannot endure my own nakedness, I cannot bear the touch of another. I have black moods when I am cruel and full of torment. It makes no difference whether I love him or not.’

Elrond crossed to Celinn’s side and knelt beside him. ‘But you do love him?’ he said gently, as if they were alone.

Celinn tilted his head and looked straight at Elrond. ‘With you he will be happy.’

‘But I have told you, Celinn,’ said Elrond. ‘We do not love one another with a binding love. That is not what we offered to each other. And in any case, it is you he wants.’

He turned then, and held out his hand to Gwirith, who was standing silent and transfixed behind him. Gwirith took it, and Elrond drew him down beside Celinn. Then he took Celinn’s hand and placed it in Gwirith’s.

‘However you have come to this moment,’ he said to them, ‘now you must choose. Join or part. If you join, I will help you heal. If you part, I will help you grieve. But choose, for both your sakes.’

And he stood up and went a little way apart. Celinn and Gwirith sat very still, hands clasped.

‘Is it true?’ said Gwirith at last.

‘Yes, it is true,’ whispered Celinn, shading his eyes with his hand. ‘My heart is opening to you. But it is no good, because I will harm you. You were right to leave Lorien: it is best if we part.’

Gwirith made a choked sound, halfway between a gasp and a sob, and his eyes glittered with tears.

‘When I came to find you after…after I had spoken so harshly to you, and you were already gone…then I knew,’ said Celinn, reaching out and wiping the tears from Gwirith’s cheeks. ‘Gwirith, do not weep, I beg you.’

‘What would you have me do?’ cried Gwirith. ‘After all this time you speak to me of love and parting in the same breath. By Elbereth, my heart is breaking. Your death I could accept; your cruelty I could endure, but not this, Celinn!’ He pressed his hand hard to his chest.

‘I would not have spoken if I had not come across you by chance,’ said Celinn, painfully, turning his face away. ‘I cannot endure a healing. It is for your sake that I would let you go. Return to Imladris; it will be easier for you there.’

Gwirith covered his face with his hands and wept bitterly. ‘I would rather bear your anger than this kindness,’ he said in a shaking voice. ‘Why say your heart is opening to me, then send me away? Do you think that now I could dwell in Imladris and be happy, leaving you behind?’

‘Gwirith, that is what I am telling you. The way I am now, it seems whatever I do must hurt you. It is best if I go,’ said Celinn anxiously, beginning to get to his feet, but Gwirith seized his arm and pulled him down again.

‘No, Celinn! It is not best if you go!’ he cried. ‘It is best if you stay and love me! Look at me! This is the pain of losing you. If your heart is learning to feel again, you will be grieving as I am. Where is your grief? Where is your anger for what was done to you, what was stolen from you?’

Celinn began to tremble. ‘I cannot think of it, Gwirith. Do not ask me,’ he said. ‘You know I cannot endure it.’

‘Would you forgo joy forever because of your fear?’

Celinn did not answer, and Gwirith saw him begin to withdraw into himself.

‘Look how far you have come!’ cried Gwirith. ‘After we were captured, your hroa would not heal; you could not sleep for fear of your dreams; even waking it seemed you were back in his hands. Do you not remember how it was only a few weeks ago, when we found you by Celebrant? You wanted to die, Celinn! Now your hroa is healed, and you will soon be captain again; you can fulfil your oath. And more than all this, your heart is opening. It is such a small step, the final step, to begin the healing of what your body remembers from that day. You’re afraid! I know that. I was afraid when first I came to Caras Galadhon, but you held on to me; you refused to let me go.’

‘What you endured was not the same,’ whispered Celinn.

‘It was pain!’ cried Gwirith. ‘It turned my heart to stone for fear of feeling it again. I was dead, Celinn, though I breathed and my heart beat. Do not choose the death in life which I clung to for two centuries until I met you. Face this fear with me, and let us love one another with joy.’

The sound of Gwirith’s voice died away. Celinn did not answer, did not move, but very gradually something in the energy that surrounded him seemed to shift, and begin to vibrate with a new note.

‘Please, my dearest one,’ said Gwirith, gently caressing Celinn’s bowed head. ‘Let Elrond help you! You have such courage, I have seen it. I can see it now, in the way you bear your loneliness. Ask him. I will be with you: you do not have to face this alone.’

Celinn turned slowly back to him and, looking in his sea-green eyes, Gwirith felt the strong barrier of his unassailable loneliness tremble.

‘But I hate my own body; I fear it, even,’ whispered Celinn. ‘I have forgotten how to touch another with love, or to be touched.’

‘This can be healed, Celinn,’ said Gwirith.

‘Is it truly possible?’ said Celinn, in a voice of incredulity.

‘Yes, it is possible,’ said Gwirith, gently.

Celinn looked into Gwirith’s face and saw the love written unmistakably on it, and then he turned and saw that Elrond also was watching him with kindness and compassion, and something cold and unyielding broke inside him.

‘My lord,’ he said hoarsely, holding on tightly to Gwirith’s hand. ‘You asked whether there was any service you could do for me.’

‘Yes, Celinn,’ said Elrond, coming to his side and kneeling down. ‘Ask it and it is yours.’

‘My Lord,’ he said, speaking as if it hurt him, ‘I was captured by the enemy. I was held against my will and tortured.’ He took a deep shuddering breath. ‘I was raped and mutilated. I cannot heal myself. I need help.’ He stopped, and they saw that he was shaking, but neither Elrond nor Gwirith tried to prevent him from continuing.

‘I have been afraid,’ he said, and his eyes were wide with terror. ‘I am still afraid. I do not know how to face this healing, but…I am ready to try.’

Beside him Gwirith made a choked sound, immediately cut off.

‘I will try to do what you ask of me, my Lord’ said Celinn, ‘with Gwirith’s help.’

Elrond laid his hand gently on his shoulder, and the wisdom of long years shone out of his eyes. All at once Celinn felt like an elfling in the arms of his adar, and he sighed deeply.

‘I will do everything I can to help you,’ said Elrond, smiling at him. ‘You have begun your own healing, because you have asked for it. And it is your own will as well as my craft that has the power to complete it.’

‘Thank you, my Lord,’ said Celinn, and all at once he was weary beyond words. He smiled dazedly and Gwirith felt his heart turn over at the beauty of his face.

‘Let us go home and sleep now,’ said Elrond. ‘Tomorrow we will begin.’

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