Request: base on prompt: "When the moon is full, the wall between this life and the next are thin..."

Summary: Dreams connect two elves across an age.

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Part One : �Within the Walls of Gondolin there is a Life..�

The dream remained the same for so long that it was a part of his life, a reassurance in a world that could crumble at any moment with one falsehood or treachery.

It came to him when the moon was full in the sky, its silver light shining through the thin curtaining of his room and oft seemed so real that all he had to do was reach out and place his hand in the one offered, and go with him.

Glorfindel had painted the dream, spent his waking hours doing justice to the tall dark haired elf with the sparkling brown eyes and bittersweet smile. There was a sadness in the countenance of this creature, a beauty that did not hide the loneliness. Glorfindel recalled every detail of this unknown elf, knew him in the way of dreaming, knew that were he to meet him he would know. In the young years he would scour the city, searching for what he felt in his heart he would not find within the walls, yet unsure how else to still the need, not knowing how else he would come upon him, for what lie beyond his city was a vast wilderness that few ventured forth or from, a world to which his age precluded him.

As the elfling gave way to the uncertainty of the youth, the dreams came less often, the elf was still there appearing from the mist, dark robed, stepping forward, the movement graceful, slow, yet with each step he did not seem closer, his lips parted in speech, yet no sound came forth, his hand extended in more than greeting, but elusive. His presence still reassured the troubled youth as he struggled to majority, a constant from the childhood he left behind with such reluctance to embark on his destiny. Yet with the charge to adulthood came responsibilities, expectations and purpose, and a duty willingly accepted. As heir to Bar-en-Lothglor. Glorfindel understood his position and what came from it, tutored to serve in the defence of the city, alert to the perils of discovery. In this new world that opened to him there was little time or space to explore what the unknown elf had become to him. It seemed that world slipped away, stored in volumes of leather bound books on the shelf of his room. Not forgotten in the whirl of new activities, he would journey through the memories in his more reflective moments, flick through the pages of his dreams, but they became just that, dreams from a past that would not come again, nor did he expect it to return as it had been. He was different, grown.

And with adulthood came other explorations that were spoken of in quiet whispers, flirtive glances to each other that all pretended not to see, but returned nonetheless. Play with those known since birth that suddenly became so awkward. Talk that had became stilted with friends who had shared everything else in their lives.

It was such with Ecthelion. The young cubs who had circled each other testing strength and daring their whole lives, probing each weakness and admiring each achievement now looked at each other with new eyes.

�Should I be jealous?� Ecthelion teased his lover, his finger tip circling the now taunt nipple, evidence that Glorfindel was not as oblivious to his presence as he seemed.

Glorfindel batted the insistent finger away. �Of what?�

�Your secret lover,� Ecthelion replied, running his finger over the muscles of Glorfindel�s stomach undeterred by the trace of annoyance in Glorfindel�s voice.

Glorfindel looked abruptly at Ecthelion. �There is no other,� he answered flatly, �I do not know what it is you speak of.�

Ecthelion cocked his head, lifting an eyebrow in disbelief. They were not newly lovers, but that they now shared one bed and one abode was a recent occurrence. New enough for Ecthelion to witness what Glorfindel had not spoke of for many years.

�I believe you do my golden lover, � Echelion continued, �and I ask only, should I be jealous of this one you dream of?�

Glorfindel shook his head, resigned to giving more than he intended. The young lord of Bar-en-Eithel was both perceptive and insistent once he caught a wisp of mystery.

Ecthelion shifted on the bed to gather Glorfindel to him, stroking his hair. �I ask only to ease your dreaming my love,� he whispered, his voice soft.

It was moments before Glorfindel began to speak. He had to admit the current spate of dreams had disturbed him, both while enveloped in the darkness of the night and in the sunlit waking hours. More than once he had been found sitting looking out to the walls of the city, startled by the touch of his lover on his shoulder. It seemed he was able to see beyond the plains to a valley, rich in a way his city was, wealth measured in the treasures of knowledge and courage. He would turn in the arms offered to him, curve his lips into a smile he only half felt and allowed himself to be comforted without explanation. Now it was time to respect his lover and friend, to ask him to be confidante to his turmoil.

� Remember, long ago, I spoke of a dream, one that came to me night on night, at the fullness of the moon?�

Ecthelion nodded. �I thought you rid of them.�

�Aye, as did I, they came so infrequent, not gone, but less of a puzzle I sought to find the answers to,� Glorfindel conceded.

�And now?� Ecthelion prompted in the growing silence, his hand tracing the shape of Glorfindel�s heart on his chest.

�They are returned, but not as before.� His hand caught Ecthelion�s hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the palm softly, his eyes closing, shaking his head to clear his thoughts to focus as dispassionately as he could on the substance of the dream. It was a dream only, yet he felt he betrayed Ecthelion in those hours, that while it was his body he held, he found another, and loved him.

�You will look for him, as before?� Ecthelion was hesitant, bracing for a response that was slow in coming, relieved when Glorfindel murmured a denial.

�He is not here, the land is eons away, not yet made,� Glorfindel replied, surprised at his observation, surprised it had come to him now. �He is not yet,� he whispered.

Ecthelion lifted his head from Glorfindel�s shoulder. �Then what does it mean?�

�I do not know.....I do not know.�

Ecthelion leaned closer, picking up strands of blond hair in his hand, twining it around his fingers, his tongue wrapping around the point of one ear. �Then let us think on it no longer, there are other thoughts with less mystery.�

For the moment all was forgotten under the caresses of loving hands that existed in the here and now, the dark elf that rose from the flames of the dream supplanted by the fire that raced through him at Ecthelion�s touch. It was a peace fragile and delicate, to be treasured unknowingly for all too soon the fire of war and hate consume them both, and the city had no time to grieve the loss of its sons, too soon it grieved its own destruction and betrayal.

Part Two: When the Moon Rises Imladris Dreams also

Melpomean tossed on the wide bed, his hands tangling in the sheets, soft cries echoing in the stillness. The silver light in the night sky shone on the raven locks of his hair. The moon was full and so the dreams came. Changed so little over time with was no comfort in their familiarity. So many times he had tried to stay their coming, so many times he had slipped and they had come.

He was not, as so many others had, come to Imladris as refugee and survivor. He had been born within the valley and knew only of the world beyond the borders through tales retold or from stories read. So the dreams of fire perplexed him. All consuming fire from which there was no escape. It surrounded him, licked at his clothing as he fought to breathe, the very air scorching his throat. And before him, tumbling through the air to the shattered remains of the city, was an elf. Gold hair streamed behind him as he fell, Melpomean screamed, glimpsing the burning flesh, cried out again when the sword the elf held struck at the beast and the beast caught hold wrenching it from him.

Defenceless now, the elf pulled at the beast. They whirled toward where Melpomean stood transfixed; the elf looked to him and nodded. Each time he dreamed it seemed to Melpomean that the elf knew him, each time he wondered, scouring the halls for one such as he among those newly arrived. Each time he returned to his room without a reason. Each time the moon heralded the dream anew.

Then one moon filled night as Melpomean lost again the struggle against the dreaming, it changed.

The golden haired elf stood on the battlements and surveyed the city below. Sounds of death and dying filled Melpomean�s ears as he watched, the scent of destruction filled his nostrils, the acrid stench everywhere as the fires burned. The giant beasts seemed to fall from the sky wreaking more havoc than the defenders could repel. Still they fought on, valiant in their deaths, desperate to delay the onslaught long enough to allow others to flee. Melpomean saw the look of horror on the faces of those who could do nothing but run, seeking shelter beyond the walls, leaving behind all they had known and thought safe. Melpomean looked at the stricken face of the blond elf as one by one the defenders fell, saw the terror as one beast faced one elf alone.

His elf, the constant from his dreams ran, the soot blackened face streaked with tears in the realisation that it was too late, not just for the elf for whom he ran, but for all of them. A second beast was upon him, and the elf fought with the ferocity of one who has lost everything including hope. The beast staggered under the assault, roaring its pain in bolts of flame. Melpomean knew there would be only one outcome, yet that did not dim the image, it was too familiar to be denied. The elf would fall to his death, but the triumph of the beast would be brief, it falling also to its doom. The elf would turn to him, acknowledge his presence and the dream would end.

Melpomean blinked his eyes at the touch. A hand now bereft of the sword it once held reached out to him, fingertips seeking to hold onto the folds of his robe. Melpomean reached down, leaning over the jagged stone that bit into his skin, his hand brushing the one now outstretched. One finger, then the next locked and twined. Melpomean reached with a second hand, grasping a wrist, his heart racing with the strain and the latent excitement. But the beast was having none of its victory ripped from it. The fire burnt again and again, Melpomean felt the hand slip but he would not, could not loosen his hold. Melpomean cried out in pain, the elf shook his head, attempting to free his hand from the grip.

�No,� Melpomean screamed into the heat, �no.�

The beast roared once more into the maelstrom, summoned the last of its energy to wretch both elves. Melpomean felt himself falling, saw the elf slip from his grasp, heard himself crying out.

The bed coverings were either wrapped around him or lying on the floor crumpled when he woke. Melpomean felt as hot as the fire that had consumed the elf. He lay shaking, seeking to calm his thoughts, breathing seemed as difficult as it had been in the flames even though the air was chilled around him. Gathering up a robe, Melpomean walked to the window, opening it further to the night air. The moon glowed high in the night sky and Melpomean shivered as he gazed at his unharmed hand though the memory of it was seared in his mind. When he closed his eyes he could still see the stuff of his dream, images so real that he felt had lived it.

Melpomean started when he heard the footsteps behind him, thinking for a moment in time that it was the elf resurrected. Then reality prevailed and he turned to Lord Elrond.

�Forgive me,� Elrond began.

�There is nothing, my lord,� Melpomean answered.

Elrond placed his arm around the young elf. �We are long past that formality.�

Melpomean leaned against the one who had been as a father to him from almost birth. �You heard?� he asked all the time knowing the answer.

�The dream?�

Melpomean nodded. �The same but different.�

�Tell me.�

Melpomean sighed. He had given only the briefest of reports before, unable for the most part to firstly remember the substance of the dreams initially, then unwilling to face the images in the retelling.

�Come sit.� Elrond guided his charge to the large couch inside the room.

Elrond would wait until Melpomean spoke, as he had done all the years. With careful words, and halting speech Melpomean recounted his tale, both of past dreams and present. At the end of it all Elrond had but one word, a name for a city long gone, from a time when treachery destroyed and evil triumphed.

�Gondolin.�

Melpomean considered the name in shock. �Gondolin,� he repeated in a whisper, in awe of the ancient city, �then the one I saw fall?�

�From the adornment he wore, it would have been Glorfindel,� Elrond replied slowly, watching Melpomean, �yet I have no answer as to why this is so, why it is you dream of the fall of the city, and in such detail.�

Melpomean closed his eyes, he had hardly needed Elrond�s pronouncement, hidden as he had the truth from himself until he heard the names uttered aloud bye one who knew and knew there was no place now for hope and denial . He supposed all through the years that the dream had come to him that he knew of what and who, there would be few who would not recognise the circumstance.

�Only when the moon is full in the sky, only then do I dream, why? And why has it changed?�

Elrond looked out to the brilliant sky, stars of light gleaming in the darkness. �I do not know Melpomean, I do not know.�

�I do not want to dream of it again.�

Elrond held the young one in his arms, stroking his hair, kissed the top of his head in reassurance, and thought on what it all meant. He had not known of any other who could recall with such precision the events of that fateful time, most had fled and those who knew had perished, leaving behind only the heroic stories of their deeds. What Melpomean related was in none of the stories. And why he saw Glorfindel fall, why he was the one who reached out to him, was a further mystery that Elrond had no answer to give Melpomean, other than he knew that answer would come.

Part Three: Between this Life and the Past Lies Love

When the elf arrived it was amid much celebration. Hailed a hero, named a protector.

Glorfindel.

As magnificent as the legends told he rode atop a creature to match his radiance. Here where he had been called, Melpomean regarded the one so familiar yet so alien to him.

�He is fair is he not?� a voice close by whispered, a remark swiftly followed by murmurs of assent.

Melpomean stepped further into the shadows, reluctant to make comment or be seen in such open awe.

Elrond scanned the assembled crowd of curious elves, the one he sought remained in the shade, and he understood. Dreams made real were no easy thing, particularly when the dreaming was of violent death, however much in the long past it was. Glancing to the new arrival, Elrond did not doubt the pain of rebirth was as keenly felt by Glorfindel, arriving in an age too new for him to know, from a past all knew of.

Glorfindel dismounted, bowed to the Lord of Imladris as he knelt and offered his sword with outstretched hands. Elrond took the sword from the ancient warrior, raised it high over his head before lowering it to replace it back into the custody of its rightful owner. Glorfindel raised his head to acknowledge the gesture with a nod, his life had been pledged to Imladris.

�Come.� Elrond offered his hand, �I will escort you to chambers.�

Glorfindel accepted, sheathing his sword as he stood, following his lord up the steps. For a moment he paused, sharp blue eyes scanning the assembled elves, his brow knotted in a frown. There was a fleeting shadow in his thoughts and a glimpse of something in the periphery of his vision, something so familiar reaching out to him. Glorfindel stared at the darkened doorway. What could be so recognisable in this new world? With a shake of his head he turned back to climb the remainder of the steps and out of the sunlight into the shadows himself.

The days became weeks, then the seasons beyond the valley changed and despite Elrond�s gentle urgings, Melpomean could not find it within himself to stand in the sight of the golden warrior. For his part, Glorfindel had not spoken of his past life other than to acknowledge the respect offered freely to him. He had kindly turned down any suggestion of celebration, his eyes showing more than his words that the pain was still close despite the passage of time. What he did do was devote his time to the service of the valley and its defence. He brought new life to ancient traditions, enlivened many a training session with his prowess, and attracted many to his side in the hopes of more than a few thoughtfully murmured words of praise.

Melpomean buried his thoughts deep within his work studying and learning all he could. He knew he would not match his lord in the healing arts but he sought whatever measure of knowledge and skill gifted to him through diligence. Elrond was thankful for his assistance, pleased with his progress yet remained saddened by the reasons why.

�You cannot continue,� he began one late night.

Melpomean did not attempt to misunderstand. �We move in different circles, he is many things I am not, so it is not impossible to do so.�

Elrond merely shook his head in resignation. �The dreams?�

Melpomean looked away, the colour rising in his pale cheeks. �They are changed.�

Mentor, healer, long lived and hardly innocent, Elrond did not ask in the silence between them. �Yes,� was his gentle reply, �and to be expected, there is no shame, it is likely it is the dreams of many, but it is something else for you is it not?�

Melpomean nodded slowly looking down at his fidgeting hands. �It is,� he answered, resting his head on Elrond�s shoulder, �it is and it frightens me.�

It was not only the full moon that brought the dreams now. So many nights Melpomean woke with the image of Glorfindel vivid in his mind, his body aroused and needy, seeking release not just by his own hand. Such dreams served only to have him shy further from the defender of Imladris, refusing all invitations to attend feast days, small assembly or large. How could he stand before the warrior when fear reigned that his body would betray him?

The patrol returned no earlier than expected, by the concern on the face of each rider it was evident that they had wished it otherwise. Their captain skin far paler than that of an unharmed elf rode with his lieutenants at his side in no mere formation of rank, their purpose to support their ailing leader, the reason soon evident as they dismounted. The wound was a gaping sore, blood continuing to flow despite the efforts that had been made to stem it, the blackened edges spoke of poison well known to the ones who kept the enemy at bay. The messenger had barely been dispatched when Elrond appeared, alerted by the sounds from the courtyard and Melpomean�s gasp of alarm.

There was no time to think on dreams and desires as the deathly cool body was lay on the bed. Potions were mixed and applied with innate skill born of practice and study. Elrond had chance to glimpse the work of his young apprentice, no small measure of pride giving him some pleasure in the midst of the devastation they were faced with. Melpomean exhibited none of the reticence that had kept him from the company of Glorfindel, did not hesitate in his movements as minor wounds were attended to with as much care as the one that now threatened a reborn life.

The hours slipped by, exhaustion did not inhibit the rhythm of the healers, each knew their task and unmoving throughout was Glorfindel, his breathing shallow and ragged. Every little while Elrond would look at the pale form, sigh and continue on, cleaning ruined flesh, pressing jagged edges of skin together, and just as often he glanced to Melpomean, noticing the lines of worry cease his features, understanding what this meant to him, admiring his courage to continue. He would not suggest that the young elf take leave to rest, the offer would be refused that was certain, Melpomean would remain until they knew.

He was there when the others left tired and worn, he stayed when Elrond at last urged him to seek his bed and rest. There was little any of them could do once the bandaging was complete, they had done all that was possible, what happened from this time now would not depend on their skill. Melpomean understood, yet it was not possible for him to depart and leave the warrior alone. Conceding the battle lost, Elrond drew up a wide chair beside the bed. Melpomean smiled tiredly in gratitude before settling into the cushions.

The laboured breathing was all the more worrisome in the silence of the room. Still Melpomean listened to each breath, holding his own when Glorfindel shuddered over the next. With Elrond gone Melpomean moved closer to the bed, taking the bruised hand carefully in his. No scars of a previous life are evident over the sculptured body, Melpomean allowing himself in the peace of the late night to remember what he could not allow himself to notice just a short time before. He had run his hands over the smooth skin in ways he had imagined, but not in circumstances he had dreamed. The seemingly lifeless hand warms a little in his as Melpomean brushed his lips over the purple marks.

�I will not let you go this time,� Melpomean murmured, and just for a moment he imagined the grip of his own fingers was returned.

Standing in the shadows Elrond heard the whispered vow and added his own hope to the words. He was unsure what may transpire if Melpomean felt the hero of Gondolin slip away from him a second time.

Part Four: What dreams may come

Glorfindel woke with an ache that permeated his entire body. Tentatively he raised his arm from the bed, only to put it down as the pain raced through him. It was all he could do to not cry out in the quietness of the room. Carefully he turned his head, he was not in his room that was clear, it was not until he saw the bottles arrayed by the bed that the memory made its way through the mist of his mind.

He had been injured, badly, he had known that the moment the sword pierced his skin. There had been so many others who needed the use of the limited provisions they carried with them, and he had refused to acknowledge his own wounds. Glorfindel understood the foolishness of that decision, more so when what he had done could no longer be hidden. He smiled a little at how his troop had reacted, no small amount of pride reflected in that smile, the concern a measure of the respect he had earned among them.

The muffled words alerted Glorfindel to others in the room, one he recognised, the other familiar in ways he could not grasp. When the owner of the melodic voice came within his sight Glorfindel gasped. The sound drew the attention of Elrond as the apparition that was the unnamed elf moved from his view and he quickly closed his eyes, convinced that his mind had tangled reality with dreams.

When he opened his eyes it was to Elrond�s touch and the young elf was gone. Glorfindel stared a moment at the now empty space then turned to Elrond. The Lord of Imladris made no comment about another�s presence so Glorfindel put it to the back of his mind, puzzled but prepared to accept that the elf had been a product of his confused mind on waking.

�How long,� he asked as Elrond ran a practiced hand over his side, beginning to cut away the bandaging.

�A good many days,� Elrond replied prodding gently at the healing wound, �but they appear to have been well spent, the wound heals well, there will be little left to remind you of the encounter in time.�

Glorfindel looked down as best he could, wincing at the stab of pain.

Elrond shook his head. �Rest, I will send for some soup for you, something bland for your stomach to digest.� He called over a young elf, instructing him on his wishes. Melpomean had disappeared into the outer room and Elrond would not ask him to return. He knew the young one had spent many hours at Glorfindel�s side tending him diligently, yet once he had seen the warrior awake he had not been able to remain. As Elrond smoothed the ointment over Glorfindel�s skin and applied fresh coverings, he determined to find a way for these two to at least meet, then he would trust to the fates to decide the outcome. As it stood Melpomean would not risk anything so direct as an formal introduction. Elrond finished off the bandaging with a slight smile, Melpomean was perhaps the only elf in Imladris or indeed beyond who had not concocted a reason to be in the company of the golden haired soldier.

Over the next days Melpomean remained a spectral presence. He hovered at the edges of Glorfindel�s vision, catching glimpses of the recovery and progress to full health. He was grateful for the improvements each day, saddened by the knowledge that soon he would not have the luxury of such silent observation where none would question his interest.

Glorfindel was not entirely unaware of being observed, having little else to occupy his time and distract him. Elrond had advised against returning to his rooms for a time, and had been a little more forthright when Glorfindel had suggested a return to the patrols. So he was left with only the books brought to him and watching those around him as they worked. It was a stillness he found eerie, used to the sounds of the world embracing him. And within this was the sense that it was not only those visible to him who watched him, still not certain that it was more than a fleeting glimpse of a dream he wished real. And he kept his silence on his imaginings, not wishing to give his lord further cause to detain him with the healing rooms.

Putting aside his book in the waning light, Glorfindel lay back against the pillows. Melpomean waited awhile, silently wishing him pleasant dreams before blowing out the last of the candles at the desk and leaving quietly. Glorfindel gazed into the night before slipping into sleep and fretful dreams.

The city was overrun, so many sacrifices by so many, each giving their most sacred gift, that of their immortal lives. Glorfindel cried out, seeing Ecthelion fall, saw himself falling into the fire, felt the hand in his pulling him back. Fingers twined together, Glorfindel felt the muscles in his arm straining, heard the gasp from above him as slowly he was lifted from the flames. �I will not let you go� he heard echo in the roar, �I will not let you go.�

Glorfindel tossed in his bed, murmuring softly, knowing that this time the elf would not let go, this time he would not ask, this time he would be safe.

Elrond listened from the edge of the room. Unable to sleep he had walked the gardens, finding his path leading to the halls. The muffled whispers had brought him to Glorfindel. There was no doubt the elf dreamed, of what Elrond could guess. It would be a strange occurrence if the events of the past had not left their mark. Yet Glorfindel seemed at peace within the dream, not fighting against it. Perhaps it meant acceptance of a new life, realisation that the sacrifice had not been for nought. Perhaps it was something else. Perhaps he may ask, but for now he would leave Glorfindel knowing he was safe.

Part Five: Something to Become

Melpomean had been uncertain when he had first opened and read the intricately scribed invitation. He was more certain this night as he regarded the clothing laid out on the bed. It was in his mind to send a message even at this late time to say he was unwell, but the thought of the twins at the door and those grey eyes regarding him was enough to banish the idea. Indeed it had been the understanding that he saw within those identical orbs that had swayed his acceptance, though there were few who would refuse any request of their lord�s sons.

Elladan and Elrohir had thrown themselves into the arrangements for their celebration in no half measure which surprised none. And it was to their gentleness and delicate diplomacy that few critics of their union now remained and those voices were muted in the face of the overwhelming love all witnessed between them. Under such circumstances elves had travelled from afar to attend, many Melpomean among them, wishing for such a devotion for themselves.

Elrond had listened to the arrangement carefully when approached by his sons. His pride in their courage was unmistakeable and he was hardly surprised at their unconventional desire to celebrate, for in truth all things about them broke with tradition.

Melpomean touched the fabric. It was a finer cut than the garments that graced his own wardrobe, and of a colour that he would hardly contrive for himself. Yet he could not deny that the twins had chosen with care. What they had chosen for the other guests was a mystery to all until the bells chimed.

Pulling on the deep crimson leggings and slipping the matching silver edged tunic over his head, Melpomean glanced into the mirror. His hair hung loose filtering over his shoulders in soft waves. Elladan had been quite specific on how he was to wear his hair and it was not to be in the stern manner of his everyday dress. Carefully he affixed the silver mask over his face. That Elladan and Elrohir had chosen a masquerade ball to mark their pledge had been greeted with almost as must comment as the taking of the vows themselves. But as ever they had charmed the resistance to such a degree that for weeks there had been a rare excitement in the valley.

Melpomean regarded himself once more, smiling despite himself. Elrohir had been correct and as the bells at last chimed to announce the beginning of the public celebrations and Melpomean slipped into the darkened corridor, he felt the confidence of anonymity sweep through him.

For Glorfindel the intervening weeks between Elrond allowing him to leave the healing rooms to residing in his own rooms and the announcement of the ball had been jarring to him. Elrond�s continued insistence that he remain within the walls of the Homely House to ensure no lasting ill effects of his injury had left him further restless. No amount of pleading had brought about any change of thought from his lord.

Such unused to inactivity gave him too much time to remember.

There was little in Imladris that was Gondolin, yet walking in the gardens, reading in the library it was as if he was back in another life and time. And sitting in the sunlight, back resting on the trunk of the tree behind him, eyes closed, the image before him was of a shining warrior. It seemed to Glorfindel that he could touch his lover, Ecthelion holding out his hand, reaching for him. Glorfindel moved to him, his own hand outstretched. He was in his arms, nuzzling to soft hair as it hung loose, kissing the line of his neck as his hand slipped under the hem of his tunic. He felt familiar hands in his own hair, fingers brushing against his neck. Glorfindel moaned softly, lifting his head to press his lips against those of his lover.

�I have missed you so,� Glorfindel whispered, �I need you.�

Ecthelion rubbed his cheek over Glorfindel�s. �I need you too my love,� he replied quietly, his breath warm on Glorfindel�s skin.

The second kiss was steeped in need, their bodies hard against each other, hands touching smooth flesh, fingers tangled in silk strands of hair. As they moved it was as if they had never been lost to each other , insistent mouths and demanding hands pleading for more. The sun streamed down on them and Glorfindel pulled them down to the cool grass.

They made love as Glorfindel remembered, slowly and deliberately, reassuring each. When they lay together, breathing in unison, listening to the beating of their hearts, Ecthelion looked into his lover�s eyes, caressing his cheek. He smiled gently.

�You have found him,� he whispered.

Glorfindel frowned, shaking his head.

�You have my love, and he has found you.�

�I love you,� Glorfindel asserted.

�That I know and I will always love you, but we were not destined for each other Glorfindel, not in the way of you and he. Your dreams spoke for you, they always have, accept him when he comes to you, find the courage to love him, he is worthy, and he has waited so long. He too has had his dreams.�

Glorfindel looked at the clothing that had been delivered to his rooms. The silver and crimson red were more ornate than he preferred but he bowed to the insistence of the twins. He shook his head at the elaborate mask of similar colours to the garb. There had been such things that he had seen in the celebrations of mortals, but rarely in elven dwellings, not even Turgon�s beautiful court had boasted such a thing. Glorfindel preferred more simple gatherings, not looking to the evening with any great anticipation, understanding amid his own reservations the need of Imladris to acknowledge the momentous step of its sons. He along with those close to the twins would witness the vows in more secluded surroundings and under quieter circumstances later.

Affixing the mask Glorfindel stood before the mirror, his long blond hair tied back and almost unrecognised within the folds of the fabric of his outer shirt. The bells chimed as he schooled himself to leave the comfort of his own rooms.

The hall was alight with flickering candles, matching the brightness of the day past. Melpomean glanced to the open balcony, the moon shone one turn short of whole yet still in brilliant silver light, it would be perfect for Elladan and Elrohir, exactly as they had planned. Melpomean himself wondered at what this cycle would bring him. Would he continue to dream so intimately that he woke aroused, or would the dreams be of fire and falling, drifting and catching hold?

Elves from all realms danced and made merry, laughter oft described as music rose in waves above the lilt of the singers, dressed in all hues of colours, all masked and ill recognised. Only the hosts themselves were distinguished amid the crowd. They alone were identical in their dress of deep blue, their masks the silver star of their great sire. Standing together, hands held tight, their regard for each other was like no other.

Melpomean moved amid the guests, greeting those whom he passed by with a smile, playing the game that had begun of seeking to identify who lay behind the mask, contemplating those he was sure who acted contrary to their habits. He was one such, embracing the opportunity to be something else just for the night.

Glorfindel too moved among the crowd but with caution and reserve. It was hardly that he minded engaging those who did not know his name nor reputation, indeed it was an interesting study to be able to speak without the restrictions others often felt around him. However there was a limit to the social conversation he could maintain over time and he soon found himself wine goblet in hand standing on the balcony staring into the night.

�It almost reaches its zenith,� a voice spoke from the darkness.

Glorfindel nodded as the elf stepped from the shadows. �They waited for this time, on the morrow they will be one, united and inseparable,� Glorfindel replied reciting the final pledge.

�Yes, � Melpomean replied, �it will be beautiful,� he added slowly, staring out at the silver dotted sky, soon the moon would be full. He gripped tight the railing as the elf turned to regard him, a strange wave of emotion sweeping over him as he returned that shielded gaze.

Glorfindel met the hooded eyes, placing his hand over the one that held the rail. For a moment Melpomean did not move, a warmth spreading that became fire. Melpomean closed his eyes, swaying at the onslaught on his senses. He gripped Glorfindel�s arm, an instinctive reaction to steady himself. The ground though not far below was reminiscent of another time and another life. Melpomean felt the stab of the stone at his stomach and gasped.

�No, I will not let go, not this time,� he whispered as the hold on the warrior�s arm tightened.

Glorfindel moved to aid the young elf, his other hand coming to rest on the one on his arm. He too felt his body reeling as the images of so long ago flooded his own thoughts.

�Hold to me,� Glorfindel murmured as he loosened his hands to bring his arms around the slender elf.

Melpomean sank into the embrace, his own arms holding the stronger elf as much to him as he was held.

Elrond looked on from the light of the feasting, concern turning to relief when the two elves turned to each other. Whatever destiny had planned for these two they had now taken the first steps. The Lord of Imladris acknowledged his sons interest in the proceedings, noting Elladan�s smile as he nodded to them and Elladan drew his brother near. Elrond shook his head at the perceptiveness of his sons. This had been no idle request then, they had planned this encounter with much care, and he was proud of them as he had ever been. Elrohir acknowledged the regard of his father with a striking grin.

There was no more fire, no more falling, Glorfindel was wrapped in a peace he had only found with Ecthelion, within Gondolin. Cocooned in the safety, his heart rejoiced and his lover�s words echoed. Melpomean lifted his head to accept the kiss.

It was undemanding, a measure of their uncertainty in the identity of the other. But it was as much a measure of their certainty also that they knew who held them in the intrinsic way of those who have found what it is they have waited for in their lives.

�Walk with me,� Glorfindel asked quietly, offering his hand.

�Yes,� Melpomean replied, his hand slipping easily and without forethought into the hnad of the warrior.

They walked in silence as the silver light shadowed them amongst the trees. The path was winding, leading them away from the sounds of joyous celebrations and into the quiet of their own thoughts. They stopped by the stone seat that offered a view over the waterfalls and mountains beyond. Glorfindel indicated with a nod of his head the wish to sit awhile.

�Isil shines bright,� Glorfindel commented, needing to break the silence to speak of things of consequence that had run through his private thoughts, �tis said such a light is the bringer of dreams.�

Melpomean nodded. �I have heard such,� he replied carefully, unwilling to give much away.

�In two lifetimes, my dreams have been the constant,� Glorfindel mused, pressing past the reticence of his companion. There was an ease with him that Glorfindel felt beyond the peace, this elf would be understanding even if he said little. �So much the same.�

�I have lived but one life, and here only in this valley,� Melpomean began, encouraged by the tenderness he heard in Glorfindel�s voice. He felt flattered by the idea that this unknown elf regarded him as a confident, sensing few had heard him speak thus.

Slowly Glorfindel told his tale, innate knowing that this was the one to whom it should be told. Melpomean listened without comment, his heart racing as each detail was brought to light, stomach churning as the realisation came to him. He wanted to flee, lest he say what his heart wished, but knowing he could not leave this elf until the full tale had been told. He had to know.

So many times Melpomean was hard pressed not to add his part to the recounting, sitting alternating between Glorfindel and the night sky, always attentive to the words and the tremor in the voice. The tears came as a trickle down his cheek as Glorfindel described the reality that had flowed from the dreaming, the fire returned to burn at his thoughts, dampened by the dreams that came to Glorfindel in Imladris.

They both started when the first of the coloured lights burst overhead, the result of the wizard�s compromise with the twins. The fireworks were followed by the bells, celebrating the end of the ball and the demasking of the participants. They heard the shrieks of delight ripple through the air, looking to each other. Melpomean moved to rise from the bench only to find his arm caught by the other elf.

�We should go back.�

�No, not yet,� Glorfindel answered, �I would know you.�

Melpomean shook his head but the hand on his arm did not loosen.

�There has been only one other who has heard this tale, one I loved and was lost to me, Lord Elrond does not know the full contents of it, though I suspect he knows more than I about them. Yet I have told you, I would understand why that is.�

Melpomean sat down, the last of the laughter overlaid by the returning of the music. He stared at the silver light in the sky and made a decision.

He reached to untie the ribbons that held his mask to his face, letting the mask drop into his hands. Glorfindel did not move.

�I will go,� Melpomean murmured, unnerved by the elf�s regard.

�No,� Glorfindel answered, half command, half plea. He stared several moments longer before he reached out and traced along Melpomean�s cheek with a finger tip. Melpomean sat still as Glorfindel lifted his hand, traced over the palm and fingers, held it his cheek, closing his eyes. When they opened Glorfindel kissed each finger. �It is you.�

Melpomean nodded slowly. �Yes.�

Glorfindel�s eyes glistened in sudden knowledge. �You have not ask me to remove my mask, you knew.�

Again Melpomean nodded. �It was not trickery,� he began,� I knew your tale as you spoke it, for it had long been my dream.........I did not reveal myself for fear, I needed to know what it had meant for you......I am sorry for the deception.�

�And you kept hidden.�

�Despite the urging of Lord Elrond to speak with you, I could not, least you thought it foolish or the attempt of a young elf without guile to lure you to his bed.�

�I would have thought neither of you,� Glorfindel replied, �but that that is the past, we have the present to consider,� Glorfindel kissed the soft lips, � and the future.�

�Yes.�

�Would you come with me this night, tell me of your dreaming?�

�Yes.�

Elrond watched the two elves return along the paths, walking close, masks in hand, followed them with his sight and thoughts until they entered the corridor that lead to Glorfindel�s rooms. Elladan and Elrohir, not so caught in each other that they did not notice also, smiled knowingly to each other.

Part Six: When dreams meld and touch the waking world

Glorfindel poured two glasses of wine and sat next to Melpomean on the large divan. It was his turn now to listen to what he knew and what he did not. Melpomean rested in his arms, Glorfindel finding the closeness of another after so long not as strange as he had supposed. Melpomean finding the closeness reassuring in ways he had not imagined, found the trust easy to come by with one he knew as others did not. He recounted all, leaving out nothing, for he would have no secrets now, all his dreams from the first when so young, cheeks tinged pink as he spoke of the dreams of recent times. Glorfindel was glad of it, sensing the relief in the young elf, marvelling at the detail that was known to so few others, oddly at ease with the acceptance Melpomean had given him.

�Would you stay with me awhile longer?� Glorfindel asked softly once the recollections had been told. His words trembled on his lips, anxious to not frighten the young one with the question, nor pressure for an answer.

Melpomean shifted his head, his body moving against Glorfindel�s as he gave his reply with his eyes and flesh, and asking another in return. Glorfindel answered that with a desperate kiss, hands holding Melpomean�s head and back hard to him. Longer would be eternity if Melpomean agreed, here was what he had foreseen, what dreams had allowed him to hope for, what Ecthelion urged him to accept.

The urgency for ones who had long waited is oft overwhelming, and so it was with them. They sought and found clasps and fasteners, eager for the feel of warm skin beneath their hands. Glorfindel moved them to the bedroom, pulling the tunic from Melpomean�s body, likewise removing his own. He kissed him hard, hands stroking down his back, nails softly scraping along Melpomean�s spine. Then he stopped.

�No,� he uttered as he backed away.

Melpomean stood perplexed, the hurt shining in his eyes, stepping back and away. He flinched when Glorfindel reached out to him.

�It should not be like this, not the first time,� he whispered, his hand touching Melpomean�s arm. �Would you lie with me?� he asked carefully, �would you allow me to touch you?�

Relief flooded Melpomean�s thoughts, surged through his body. In response he slipped off his boots and then his leggings, standing aroused before the more experienced elf. Not taking his eyes from the young one, Glorfindel shed his remaining clothing. He stood watching Melpomean regard him, waiting for him to come to another decision. Slowly Melpomean walked toward him, smiling shyly but meeting the gleaming eyes, not shaken by the desire he saw there.

�Yes, I will lie with you.�

Glorfindel held out his arms and as Melpomean stepped into them he kissed him, then with a hand on the small of his back guided him to the bed, feeling the hard beat of his heart as Melpomean pressed close to him. As they slipped onto the bed Glorfindel searched the dark eyes for any hesitation. Melpomean lay bathed in the silver light that shone through the light curtains. Glorfindel smiled, the first night of the full moon, what dreams would they have together he wondered.

Glorfindel traced along Melpomean�s jaw, following it with a line of kisses, his hand caressing along the curve of the bent arm. It was a slow exploration and he was intent on learning as much as he could this night. He listened to the soft moans and not so soft groans as his fingers and lips slid over smooth skin. This elf was beautiful and so untouched, not that that mattered to Glorfindel other than he would take all the care he could with him. Fighting his desire and the urgings of both bodies, Glorfindel inched down the bed leaving a trail of marks down Melpomean�s neck and across his shoulder. He paused to look up to Melpomean, taking in the dark eyes and pursed lips, feeling his body arch and twist on the bed. He was ready to take what was willingly given, not ask for more than Melpomean could offer in his youth, the desire to explore and discover was as much a pleasure. Just as he and Ecthelion had gifted to each other, he would have the same. They would not speak the words yet, but it was a deep love evolved in dreams that would find its voice.

Melpomean did not know there could be such exquisite agony given by the touch of another. He cried out as a careful hand stroked along his aroused body, fingers caressing the hardness that had only known his own hand. So different to his own touch, so delicate yet assured. It emphasised Glorfindel�s experience over his own, but that was furthest from his mind as he lay on the wide bed. Slender hips were lifted when Melpomean felt the soft lips press to him with fingers gently rolling the sacs beneath his length. The caress of the moist tongue was upon him before he had time to gather himself, the engulfing of his arousal into the warmth of Glorfindel mouth was as surprising. Never had he felt this tide of exhilaration coming in waves with each peak higher than the previous.

�I....,� he breathed with difficulty, seeking to push Glorfindel�s head away, brushing across the tip of his ears as he did.

As best he could Glorfindel shook his head, not willing to retreat now he knew it would be soon for his young lover. The first taste was sweet, small droplets on the back of his tongue, Glorfindel smoothed his lips over and over, nails scrapping over the thighs of the long legs that stretched out beside him. The only thought Glorfindel had as the warm liquid flowed into his eager mouth was how beautiful this elf was. Later, lying together, Melpomean tired in his arms, the next thought was that he wanted this one to be his. Drifting to sleep, Glorfindel fancied he caught sight of a smiling Ecthelion before his dreams consumed him, dreams of a future, not a past.

Part Seven: The walls are thin

It was the gold of day rather than the silver of the night that woke Glorfindel. Caught in between dream and reality he struggled to become aware. His arm felt heavy, not easily moved, stretched his body out to be greeted by a hiss of breath not his own. With a smile he remembered, and looked at the peaceful countenance of his companion. Tenderly he smoothed back the errant strands of dark hair, caressing Melpomean�s cheek as he did, recalling the night and all that had passed unspoken between them. Glorfindel smiled anew as he ran his fingers over the curled arm, placing a kiss on the top of Melpomean�s head. He thought on the sure way the young one had touched him in response to his own touches, how quickly Melpomean found and explored the sensitive parts of his body, how it had felt to have strong hands stroke and a loving mouth embrace him once more, how happy he was to feel loved and be able to love. And he wondered how one such as Melpomean had deflected the advances of others, for surely he had been much sought after.

Melpomean became aware of another close, came to consciousness with a start before he settled again in recognition. He lifted up his head to be greeted with a kiss.

�It was not a dream,� he whispered almost in awe that he had wakened beside the one he had so often dreamed of, touching Glorfindel carefully in case his senses deceived him, smiling when he found he was real enough.

�No, no dream,� Glorfindel replied as Melpomean�s hand slipped over his chest and down his stomach. Glorfindel caught hold of it, guiding it lower, a moan as he felt the fingers touch his groin.

Melpomean looped his leg over Glorfindel�s, pushing his body up so that he was pressed against the blond elf, his arms bent either side of the pillow, their eyes locked on each other, lips so tantalisingly close that Glorfindel could not resist. The kiss was long and sensual, tongues melding in response to their bodies� arousal.

�Would you show me how to love completely?�

The question took Glorfindel by surprise. It was not that it had been asked, but the timing of it. Perhaps it was a measure of Melpomean�s certainty that had Glorfindel agree to the request.

�I will guide you.�

�I want to please you, to give you pleasure at my touch.�

Glorfindel smiled. He and Ecthelion had been the same, wanting to give and well as receive. Despite himself, Glorfindel found he was looking forward to the sight of Melpomean undone once more, and feel the fullness of his body when Melpomean entered him.

�You already do, and we will explore much more, you are so much that I imagined, and so much more.�

The lack of guile on Melpomean�s part was more than made up by the tender way he touched and caressed. Oil slicked fingers prepared Glorfindel, probing deeper when he pressed into the intrusion. Melpomean hesitated only once when Glorfindel cried out, mistaking the scream of desire for that of pain. Glorfindel urged him harder and faster, both bodies writhing in unity, melding as one as their minds opened to each other, taking in the joy of the union and the love that they had held so long within their hearts.

Glorfindel had loved Ecthelion, but never to this joining of souls.

**You are the one** they both heard echo in their thoughts.

Glorfindel touched Melpomean�s tear stained cheek as he came within him, his own tears splashing onto the pillow.

Melpomean fell to the bed, his head on the pillow next to Glorfindel, the damp dark strands of hair mingling with the gold of the warrior. The only movement came when Glorfindel placed his arm around his lover and Melpomean nestled closer. They drifted into dreamless sleeping. It would be later in the day, long after the chimes announcing the midday meal that they two would rouse from their slumber. With a smile Glorfindel acknowledged the vitality of the young as Melpomean pressed his erection to his thigh and dipped his head to challenge the older elf to match him. Elrond did not wonder at the absence of both his captain and healer, merely shaking his head as his sons stealthfully delivered the basket of fruit and wine to Glorfindel�s rooms, saying nothing but grinning broadly when asked about the visit.

Part Eight: Worlds join

The silvered sky mirrored the contentment of the world beneath, Elladan and Elrohir stood in pure white to recite their promises to each other. Glorfindel stood dressed in the finery of his former house, at his side the young one who wore the colours of Imladris to signify his heritage. Elrond pronounced his sons bound, then looked to his captain. He had not needed to ask what had transpired, the hurried arrival of his pupil in earlier in the evening and his flushed countenance was enough for Elrond to have his thoughts confirmed. And when he had observed Glorfindel, his smile could not be contained. Perhaps in the near future they would all stand again under a full moon and hear the vows of unity once more recited. As Elladan and Elrohir exchanged their first kiss wearing the bonding rings, Elrond did not miss the tightened of clasped hands, and the glimmer in bright eyes.

Glorfindel watched the twins he had come to regard most highly observe each other in the new light of bonding. He ran his thumb over the hand he held in response to the emotion he felt. It may not be too soon to ask what he had waited two lifetimes to say to the dark haired elf beside him. The ancient life that was his had found across the walls of dreaming his destiny.

Melpomean held tight to his warrior, aware of those around him in only the most distant way, focused on the vows made to lovers who upon the kiss had become something more. In his mind there was the echo of Glorfindel still, stilling the loneliness he had felt among so many for so long. He acknowledged his lord with a nod of his head and a soft smile. Impossible worlds had become real, the power of dreams revealed. Walls between lives had crumbled, tumbling under the belief in possibilities.

The moon gloried in the velvet of the night moving unnoticed by those it had touched, ribbons of light seeking dreamers it had not.