I Third Age. Early Spring. The Gray Havens. Imladris.
Galdor watched Gildor from a safe distance. Since coming to the Gray Havens, the elf had seemed almost ready to board one of Cirdan's ships and Galdor was curious as to what held him back. Time and time again Gildor avoided the final call of the gulls and watched as yet another ship departed Middle Earth. Galdor knew that Gildor's mother had sailed only months before and he often wondered, as he did so often about the handsome warrior, why he had not gone with her. He admitted to himself he was quite taken with Gildor and would have approached him, had not shyness intervened. At first, he had thought that Dolrath and Gildor were a couple, but as he observed them he learned that they were companions only. That knowledge made Galdor curious. Did some other elf hold Gildor's heart, and if so, then what kept Gildor in the Havens?
"Such intense scrutiny leads one to be curious," Dolrath snuck up behind Galdor and grinned impishly when the elf jerked in surprise.
"I was enjoying the sunset," Galdor knew the lie was a transparent as an elf maid's veil.
"'Tis a most glorious sunset," Dolrath drolly replied. His eyes drifted from Gildor, sitting quietly on a rock, to the skyline. The sun's red glow illuminated the water, turning it to a giant pool of frothing blood. He shivered at the imagery and turned his attention once more to Gildor. "I do not think he would object to company."
"I think he would. He seems to enjoy his solitude."
"Enjoy? No one enjoys being alone, no matter what they might argue. He lost friends and his innocence in the battle against Sauron and he is still healing. Friends, both old and new, can help in the process." Dolrath pushed.
Galdor pulled a windblown lock of hair from his face. "I would not want to presume. Besides, he is a warrior, a servant of Lord Elrond, and before his death, the high king. I am a lesser counselor in Cirdan's court."
"What has position to do with speaking to Master Gildor?" Dolrath was reminded of the stilted formalities of Lindon and he grew impatient. Gildor had been right, of course. Lindon was fading. Every day more and more elves from Lindon made their way to the Havens. Some sailed west. Others chose to stay and make their homes among sand dunes and sea gulls. "Beside," he continued, not allowing Galdor a chance to answer. "He is no longer in Lord Elrond's court. He has, by his presence here, resigned. Nor do I think he intends to return to the place called Imladris."
His curiosity piqued, Galdor could not help but ask. "Did they quarrel?"
"Nay, I do not think so, for Gildor seems a great proponent of the Lord of the Bruinen Valley. Rather, I believe he chooses exile over stability."
"There is another difference," mused the other with a sad note. "He is royalty and I am not."
"The old ways have lost their meaning and Gildor would be the first to tell you so. He is not a prince, but a warrior and an exile. He claims no titles and no privileges. Why do you sit here discussing him with me when you could be down there, speaking directly to him? Surely you will not let such an opportunity pass you by."
"I know not what you mean."
"You are as easily read as an orc trail."
"You presume."
"You may think so, but I see it in your eyes. You find him attractive and admirable. You place him too high. He would be appalled, I think." With a mischievous grin, Dolrath lifted one hand and called loudly. "Gildor! Up here!"
Galdor would have gladly scurried beneath the rocks like a crab had he the opportunity. Instead, he was forced to sit still and calm, with his cheeks flushing pink as Gildor rose from his place on the beach and come forward.
"How long have you two been sitting here?" Gildor asked as he settled beside Dolrath.
"Not long at all. We came to admire the sunset," Dolrath responded with some irony.
"The scene is lovely," admitted Gildor. He slit his eyes at Galdor. At first he found the elf distant and stiff, self-possessed of a bone-chilling coldness that permeated the air around him like a fog. Soon Gildor discovered that Galdor's demeanor hid his shyness. He was, in fact, the anti-thesis of Lindir and Gildor had, in a small measure, come to appreciate that difference. Galdor was quiet, where Lindir was boisterous. Galdor was dark where Lindir was fair. In some ways he reminded Gildor of Lord Elrond with his dark hair quiet demeanor. Nor did he remain unaware of Galdor's scrutiny. One would have been hard pressed not to notice Galdor sitting always just out of his line of sight or the dark, liquid eyes that followed his every move. He did not know if awe or something more was behind Galdor's behavior and he was forced to examine his own confused feelings. He never stopped loving Elrond, but he knew his dream was a foolish one. He found Galdor attractive and that led to a crisis as he considered whether or not it was fair to reciprocate that attraction even though his heart was truly not involved. "You have finished the council work today?"
Galdor stammered. "Yes." Dolrath dug his heel into the side of Galdor's foot and the elf grunted and moved his injured extremity. "Lord Cirdan does not like council meetings very much and prefers to keep them short. He says elves spend too much time talking and not enough time doing."
"Unlike men, who spend too much time doing and not enough time talking," observed Gildor. "How like Lord Cirdan."
Galdor laughed. "Of course, he admits there is some need of us, though I think he'd rather not be bothered at times. He has knowledge of the outside world and of things to come. He frightens me, sometimes, for he possesses a power that he holds carefully in check. I fear one day, should he choose it, he will pass over the sea and leave us stranded."
"He will not do that, Galdor. While it is true many elves have left Middle Earth, many more still remain. Not least among them, the Ring Bearers." He thought of Elrond and his possession of Gil-Galad's Vilya. He did not know who else had rings, but he knew they must remain in Middle Earth yet.
"And the one." Galdor had heard of Isildur's refusal to part with the ring.
Uncomfortable, Gildor changed the subject. "I hear that some minstrels have come."
"I saw them earlier," Dolrath cut in, hoping to put ideas in his friends' heads. "There will be much feasting and merriment tonight. You are going, Gildor?"
Gildor had avoided many parties during his months in the Havens, always with some excuse or another. But as time wore on, he began to realize that avoiding other elves was counterproductive. Also, he missed the lively music and feasting of which the elves were so famous. Avoiding the company of his fellows and refusing to enjoy his life seemed almost like an insult to everything Lindir had lived for. "I am greatly looking forward to it."
Galdor rubbed his palms nervously on his robes. "I, too, shall be attending."
"Excellent," Dolrath clapped Galdor soundly on the shoulder. "The three of us should attend together."
*~* (Section break needed here)
Erestor tucked away his parchment and inkpots and rose from his desk. His hands shook with nervous tension, as they did almost every day when he at last put away the trappings of his office. The slight tremors of his hands were the only outward sign of his tension. Otherwise he was a calm and cool as ever. He ran his hands over his dark hair and brushed imaginary wrinkles from his robes. With one last glance around the room to make sure every thing was tidy and in place for the following day's work, he left his office.
Weaving his way through the on-going construction, he at last approached the wing of the building that had been designated the healer's quarters. He entered the door and blinked for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the softer lighting. He placed a light smile on his face. "Good evening."
Lindir turned his face away from the window and produced a smile of his own. Though he had been awake for nearly five months, he was still not completely recovered. His memory remained sketchy and his body was still weak and he had not regained his former weight. The healers, including Elrond, declared that he would make a complete recovery, but that the process would take time and patience. To that end, Lindir remained ensconced with the healers where they could monitor his progress. "Lord Erestor, I was not sure you would come."
Erestor sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. His visits were a ritual and this night he was late due to some last minute paperwork. "I apologize, Lindir. My duties kept me."
Lindir's thin face lit up as he smiled. "I did not mean to criticize. I am glad you are here."
Erestor relaxed some. He always did once he was face to face with Lindir. He was always so cautious about exerting his will over Lindir. He worried that he might accidentally give away the true extent of his feelings too soon and frighten the younger elf. "You look particularly well tonight. How do you feel?"
"Truly? I am a little bored. I know the healers say I should rest and not overtax myself, but I feel restless. I want to sit in the sun and hear the singing of the trees." Lindir's blue eyes shone with frustration. Every day a little more of his memory returned and those memories were sometimes painful. He wished he could be allowed outside for a little while so that he could think more clearly.
"In time," Erestor began, knowing his words were trite but saying them anyway. "You will be allowed outside again." He longed to take the thin, pale hands in his own and press them to his lips. Instead, he placed his hands firmly in his lap.
"I've remembered more today," said Lindir to change the subject. He knew Erestor was only repeating the healer's orders and he was tired of hearing it. He did not wish to quarrel with his friend, however, over something so trivial. He knew Erestor had only his best welfare in mind, as did the healers.
Erestor smoothed his robes over his knees. One day, he knew, he would be confronted with the reality of the one memory he hoped Lindir never regained and he wondered if he would be able to cope with it. "What have you remembered?"
"I remember the tent the night before the battle. King Oropher was there, as was Amroth and Cirdan. King Elendil was there, as well, and he was angry. There was another there, but I cannot quite remember who." Lindir frowned as something teased at the edges of his conscious. When he tried to grasp the memory, it danced away.
Erestor pondered for a moment. The decision had been made to say nothing to Lindir about the battle. The healers preferred to let his memories come naturally rather than fill his head with their own versions of the events. Erestor warred with himself. He knew the other presence was probably Gildor. He should speak of it, he thought. There was no harm in filling in such a tiny gap. The harm would come to Erestor as Lindir remembered, at last, the one he professed to love. "Gildor, perhaps?" He spoke at last and with grave reluctance. He could not lie or pretend with Lindir for that would break the younger elf's trust.
"Gildor?" Lindir rolled the name around on his tongue, testing it, tasting it, feeling of it. A hazy image came to his mind but he could not bring it more in to focus. When he tried, his head began to ache. With a soft groan he closed his eyes.
Watching the smooth brow furrow and a pained look come over the sweet features,
Erestor knew a moment of panic. Had his careless tongue at last produced the
memory he feared? "Lindir are you alright?"
"Sometimes, when I try to force a memory to come, a sharp pain slices through my head," Lindir admitted through clenched teeth.
"Shall I call a healer over? A draught, perhaps to take a way the pain?"
"Uh-uh," Lindir's head barely moved on the pillow. His nostrils flared slightly and his lips whitened with tension.
Tentatively, Erestor placed his cool fingertips of both hands on Lindir's puckered brow. His hands slicked back the thick blond hair and lightly played along his friend's temples. Lindir did not flinch or pull away and Erestor grew bolder. He traced circles on the damp forehead and temples and murmured soothingly. After a few moments, he felt Lindir relax. He continued his ministrations, enjoying the feeling of the soft skin. His was a wicked indulgence, he knew, but he nonetheless allowed himself the one small luxury.
"Nice," whispered Lindir. The fingers against his temple and brow were firm but not painfully so and he sighed with contentment. Though everyone was exceedingly nice to him, Erestor was the one who showed him the most attention and he was grateful for it. He liked the advisor. He enjoyed the calm and peace that seemed to envelop the elf wherever he went. In fact, he looked forward to Erestor's nightly visits and feared that one day they would stop.
"How fares our charge this evening?" Elrond stood beside the bed watching as Erestor rubbed Lindir's temples.
"He complains of an ache in his head," Erestor said by way of an explanation. He guiltily removed his hands and placed them once again in his lap.
"Only if I try to force memories to come to me." Lindir clarified. "I was trying to remember the one called Gildor."
Elrond's brow arched and his gray eyes sought Erestor. "You have no knowledge of him?"
"Nay, not really. Though, I sense he was someone important to me." Lindir made a sound deep in his throat as pain again lanced through his head. "This is intolerable," he snarled and rubbed vigorously at his own head. "Why does this happen every time I try to remember?"
"This will fade," Elrond moved over to a long shelf and poked among the jars and vials. Next to the shelves was a stove where kettles of water constantly steamed. Each jar was carefully labeled and Elrond quickly found what he wanted. He sprinkled some herbs in to a thick china cup and removed the kettle from stove and poured water over the herbs. The sharp, tangy aroma filled the room. He brought the cup back to Lindir. "Drink this."
Erestor moved behind Lindir and helped him to sit up so that he could sip the tea. "What is it?"
"Chamomile to help you relax and sleep." He found his words ironic, as it was Lindir's sleep that had almost taken his life. Had he not opened his eyes the day that Gildor left for Lindon, Elrond would have administered poison to speed his passing. Elrond was glad the decision, though necessary, required no action. Of course Lindir had not immediately awakened but he had been responsive enough to delay Elrond's intended deed. A week later, Lindir had blinked into consciousness and Elrond breathed easier. Though the elf barely knew his own name, the fact that he was conscious was enough to give hope to Elrond and, no surprise there, Erestor. Lindir drifted in and out for several more months. When he was awake, he ate, though sparingly. And as he grew stronger, his memories began to slowly return, also a good sign, as far as Elrond was concerned.
"I do not wish to sleep," Lindir complained. "I wish to remember and leave this place. I am tired of sitting all the time in a bed."
"I know you are, Lindir. Perhaps tomorrow I can arrange for you to be taken to the gardens for a while." Lindir's face lit up again at Elrond's suggestion and the elder held up his hand. "Only if you promise not to over tire yourself, come in when you are told." Lindir's head bobbed excitedly and Elrond grinned. "And you drink your tea."
Lindir's face fell. "Yes, my lord." He blew on the tea to cool it some and took a cautious sip. The drink was pleasant, unlike some of the bitter potions the other healers prescribed.
"If you like," ventured Erestor from just beside and behind Lindir. "I could stay with you until you fall asleep?"
"I would like that. Perhaps you could tell me of this Gildor. I have the sense he is important, but I cannot think why."
"Do not try to recall him," cautioned Elrond. "The pain in your head will return if you do. Besides, Lindir, given time, you will remember."
The advisor gave Elrond a look full of gratitude as he resumed his seat on the side of the bed. "You should heed Lord Elrond's advice."
Lindir was filled with a sense that the two elders were hiding something from him and he wondered what. Who was Gildor that Elrond and Erestor did not want Lindir to remember him? Again an image drifted through his mind followed immediately by a sharp pain and he grimaced. He finished off the tea and held the cup out to Lord Elrond. I promise to be good," he said with an impish tilt to his head.
For a moment, Erestor was treated to a view of the old Lindir and he couldn't help the laughter bubbling from his lips. Without thinking he clasped Lindir's hands and squeezed them. To his utter amazement, Lindir squeezed back, and when he would have pulled his hands away, Lindir clung stubbornly.
Elrond cleared his throat. "I shall leave you to rest now." He bowed and tread softly from the room.
Erestor sat holding Lindir's hands until long past the time when the younger elf drifted off to sleep.
*~*
Dolrath alternated between wanting to slap Galdor and wanting to slap Gildor.
Both were obstinately, happily, gloriously, and intentionally obtuse. The
three had arrived in the great hall together and immediately, Galdor faded
in to the background while Gildor pretended that Galdor did not exist. In
fact, the only reason those two remained in each other's company at all was
because Dolrath placed himself between them and linked his arms to theirs.
His position meant he did not have any wine and that annoyed him, but he figured
the sacrifice was worth the effort. And just maybe, if those two had enough
to drink, they would loosen up.
There was much dancing and singing and drinking in the hall. The trio moved among the throng greeting those they knew and introducing themselves to those they did not know. Galdor would have gladly taken a seat and watched the festivities from a safe distance but Dolrath would not turn loose of his arm. Gildor would have liked to sit and talk to some of those he recognized from Gil-Galad's army, but Galdor would not let him.
"I think I can still walk on my own," he ground out as Dolrath dragged them around the room towards the large open doors.
"More than likely." Dolrath agreed blandly.
"I am sure there are people here that Master Gildor would like to see." Galdor added, feeling the heat of Gildor's ire.
At last completely out of patience, Dolrath snapped. "And I would love to enjoy these festivities and a glass or two of wine. However, I am currently trapped between two elves who have not the wits between then to realize that they are attracted to one another and, without my intervention, would even now be on opposite sides of the room."
His speech drew titters from nearby guests and Galdor's face developed peculiar red splotches over his cheeks while Gildor suddenly found the toe of his boot fascinating. Dolrath jerked his arms free. "I have done my part," he announced in injured tones. "Whatever else happens between you two is not my fault. I have tried." He stalked off in the direction of the dancers without a backward glance.
"Do you—" Galdor began.
"I did not—"
"I beg—"
"My apolo—" stammered Gildor.
"You go—"
"No, the fault is mine, you—" Gildor felt his ears grow unaccountably warm. He cleared his throat. "I apologize, Galdor. Were you going to say something?"
"No, Master Gildor, I thought you were."
Taking up the shreds of his courage and dignity, Gildor drew a deep breath. "Would you like to sit on the terrace for a moment? The breeze.."
"Would be refreshing, yes," Galdor turned abruptly towards the doors and collided with a marble pillar. He was so flustered that he mumbled a hasty "excuse me" before he realized he was speaking to an inanimate object. He stared blindly ahead for a moment, unable to think.
Gildor took Cirdan's young advisor by the elbow and steered him away from the offending structural support. "The doors are this way," he said with some amusement.
Galdor laughed despite himself. "You must think I'm a terrible fool."
"Nay, I think you are delightfully shy and amazingly handsome," Gildor answered with a smile. He watched a pretty blush creep over Galdor's cheeks. "Come, we will both be more comfortable sitting."
Gildor's warm hand on his elbow made Galdor wondered
how he managed to stand at all and he nodded as he breathlessly followed the
warrior out in to the fragrant gardens.
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