Title: Worth Waiting For
Author: Aglarien
Email: [email protected]
Beta: Erviniae
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rúmil/Erestor
Warnings: None

Request: I love Erestor. Please don't put two warriors or two scribes together. I'd like a small sweet scribe and a tall strong warrior. I also like librarian/R˙mil. I'd like the story to start with a bit of angst and *maybe* develop into a hurt/comfort story, but that's not a necessity.

Summary: Erestor finally finds an unexpected love that was worth waiting for.

Notes: Written for the 2007 Slashy Santa Fic Swap. Erestor, being the efficient chief counselor that he is, didn�t want to totally cooperate and be an ordinary scribe or librarian, but he is small and awfully sweet, and isn�t a warrior. I hope it pleases. My special thanks to Tena, Phyncke and Chaotic Binky for their help with the plot, and to Chaotic Binky for her invaluable help with injuries, especially head injuries, symptoms, and healing.
Time: 130 T.A.
Disclaimer: Not mine, with the exception, as always, for the cat. The great Master Tolkien�s estate owns everything else. I promise to return his elves when I�m done playing with them.

******************

Haldir stepped quietly into the library of Lothlorien, sighing under his breath when he saw his brother pretending to read, the younger Elf’s gaze fixed instead on the back of the small, black-robed chief librarian. Ignoring Rúmil for the moment, Haldir walked to where the librarian stood on a short stepladder replacing books on shelves and said, “Master Erestor, the Lord and Lady have requested your presence.”

“Hmmm?” Erestor said, turning to look at the Marchwarden. “Now?”

“Aye. They await you in their quarters, as they wish to speak to you privately,” Haldir answered.

Nodding to the Galadhel, Erestor descended the ladder, brushing any trace of dust from his hands as he did so. With one quick run of his hands over his immaculately braided hair, he left the library.

Haldir walked over to where Rúmil lounged in his chair. “Why do you watch him, little brother?” he asked.

“He fascinates me,” Rúmil replied. “For nearly one hundred and thirty years he has lived amongst us, and yet no one really knows much about him. Where is he from? His coloring declares him a Noldo, yet he is shorter and slighter than those we know – Elrond and Glorfindel, for instance. And where does he come from? Sometimes I can catch a glimpse of something in his eyes that I cannot quite understand. The way he speaks is different too. I thought at first it was because he did not hail from the Golden Wood, but now I think it is because he is very old.” What remained unsaid was that Erestor was very beautiful.

“He may be,” Haldir said, sitting down opposite his brother. “What is certain, however, is that he holds the favor of the Lord and Lady. I have witnessed them talking with him in unguarded moments as a close friend – almost a family member,” he whispered. “Do not let your fascination lead to feelings for him. It would not be taken kindly if you thought to toy with him, and he has never failed to spurn any advance made to him. I have always known him to be a gentle, quiet Elf, but you know most Elves here find him all too quiet and cold.”

“I think beneath that coldness there beats a warm heart, brother, and perhaps he is just shy. Sometimes there is pain in his eyes, and I do not think his life before he came here was a peaceful one. But do not fear. When have you ever known me to ‘toy’ with anyone?” Rúmil said. “I leave that to my brothers, and I have no desire to earn the wrath of the Lord and Lady.”

~~~*~~~

Erestor entered Celeborn and Galadriel’s private rooms after knocking on the door and hearing a quiet bid to enter.

“Come and join us, my friend,” Celeborn said, motioning to a chair beside them. Galadriel filled a goblet with wine and handed it to Erestor.

There was no awe in Erestor’s eyes. Although he esteemed the Lord and Lady for their wisdom, justice, and kindness, he valued them greater as old friends. Taking the goblet with a nod of thanks, he settled himself in the chair and took a sip of the wine. “What news calls me from my hallowed library and out from under the gaze of my silent watcher?” he asked.

“News? Why do you think there would be news?” Celeborn asked with a grin. “Can old friends not simply share a cup of wine?”

Erestor snorted. “You did not call me from my work in the middle of the day to take a cup of wine with you, old friend. And sending Haldir as messenger? He obviously brought you a missive, and after reading it, you sent him straight on to me.”

Galadriel laughed softly. “I told you we were wrong to send Haldir instead of one of the servants to carry the message,” she said to Celeborn. “But who is this silent watcher you speak of?” she asked Erestor.

Erestor leaned back in his chair. “Haldir’s brother, Rúmil, has once again taken to sitting in the library and pretending to read, now that he is off duty, but all the while his eyes are fixed on me – unless I look at him, and then they fly in an instant to the floor, the wall, his neglected book – anywhere but me. I would think it amusing, were it not for the fact that he is wasting too much of his time ruminating over me and trying to figure me out.” He sighed. “But come, tell me why you called me here.”

Galadriel sat across from Erestor and clasped her hands on her lap. “We have received a letter from Elrond,” she said. “He has asked for you.”

Erestor’s grey eyes flickered with light. “I do not want this, as dearly as I miss Elrond and Glorfindel. All I wish for is peace, quiet, and solitude.”

“We know, Erestor,” Celeborn said quietly. “And so does Elrond. He understands, and does not ask for you to join him lightly.” Those who knew Erestor’s history were few: other than Celeborn and Galadriel, only Elrond, Círdan and Glorfindel held his secret. Only they knew from whence he had come, and that Erestor had been with Ereinion Gil-galad when they had travelled to the Mouths of Sirion, too late to rescue the Elflings Elros and Elrond. Only they knew that it was Erestor who had stood beside Gil-galad for many centuries and helped to rule his kingdom: his secret confidant, friend, and counselor. Only they knew that it was to Erestor that Gil-galad had entrusted Elrond and Elros for their upbringing when the Elflings had been returned to them. Only they knew how Gil-galad’s death had broken the Elf, and how after the battle Erestor had fled to the haven of Lothlórien to restore his soul.

“I have found healing here, and the quiet under the great trees has restored my peace. I do not wish to leave, even for Elrond,” Erestor said softly.

Galadriel reached out and took Erestor’s hands into her own. “Erestor, Elrond has built a safe haven in Imladris, and you can dwell in peace there. Celebrían is with child, and Elrond seeks your help, for there is no one else he can trust to aid him in the running of his realm. He does not want to choose between the good of Imladris and the good of his family.”

“Celebrían is with child?” Erestor whispered. Why had he not guessed this time would eventually come? “But what of Glorfindel? Can he not assist Elrond?”

“Glorfindel is the captain of Imladris’ security. He cannot help in the way that Elrond needs, Erestor,” Celeborn replied. “But there is another reason that Elrond asks for you – another role he asks you to take.”

“What other role?” Erestor demanded.

“My daughter is carrying twins, Erestor,” Galadriel said softly. “He wishes for his old teacher to instruct his sons. There is no one else to whom he would entrust this task, save himself. Will you not go for their sakes?”

“Twins? Sons?” Erestor was carried back to his days in Lindon. Memories of the happy days with Elros and Elrond that had washed away the recollection of all of the horrors that had gone before filled his mind. He could not deny Elrond. He would go to Imladris. “I will go,” he said quietly. “I will help Elrond and I will teach his sons.”

Over the next few days, Erestor prepared to leave, turning the library over to his assistant and tying up any loose ends. He won the battle with Celeborn and Galadriel to send only one guard with him. Winter would soon be upon them and they would travel faster and surer over the Misty Mountains with only two.

~~~*~~~

Rúmil checked the straps on his horse’s saddle one last time as he stood in the clearing below Erestor’s talon and waited with his brothers, making sure saddlebags and sword sheath were firmly attached. Erestor’s horse and a third for packing supplies and Erestor’s few belongings stood alongside Rúmil’s stallion.

“Better you than me, brother,” Orophin said quietly. “I do not think I would care to escort our colorless librarian even to the border. He is too much of a cold fish for me.”

“Hush!” Rúmil whispered. “You do not know of what you speak, little brother, and if you do not wish to be consigned to the northern fences for the next century, you will not let our Lord or Lady hear you speak of their friend in such a manner.”

Haldir merely stood and waited, wondering just what it was that Rúmil saw in the librarian that fascinated him so, and finding no suitable answer. That Erestor was an incomparable beauty was true, but Haldir did not think it was the librarian’s long onyx hair that curled softly down the Elf’s back when it flowed freely was what interested Rúmil. Nor could his interest be laid solely at the door of Erestor’s mellow voice; his full, shapely, roseate lips; or his dark grey eyes that sparkled with silver stars. It simply was. He hoped his brother had not fallen for the smaller Elf, for that could end in nothing but heartache.

~~~*~~~

Celeborn and Galadriel stood in Erestor’s room, waiting for their old friend as he made the final preparations for his journey. After packing the last of his few belongings into his saddlebags, Erestor slid a pair of ancient daggers into their holders inside of his boots, donned his cloak, and took his long unused bow and arrow-stocked quiver from their hanging place on the wall. His longbow and daggers had been with him for millennia, providing food when needed, protection, and even as tools for preparing food and shelter. “I may not be a warrior, but I do know how to hunt, and it would be foolish to go on such a journey unprotected from wild animals or other prey,” Erestor said.

“Indeed,” Celeborn said. “All the more since it will be but the two of you. Be most careful, Erestor, for you are dear to us.”

“As you are to me,” Erestor said. With a final embrace from his friends, and one last look around the room that he had called his own for the past one hundred and twenty-nine years, he turned and descended with Celeborn and Galadriel to the clearing below the talon where the tall, golden-haired Galadhel who would accompany Erestor to Imladris was waiting. As they reached the final step of the wide stairs, Erestor quietly groaned. “You picked him, did you not, Galadriel? Why?”

“Not for the reason you think, dear friend,” the Lady replied. “My hearts forebodes me that he must be the one to accompany you. As yet I know not why.”

Erestor raised an eyebrow and looked up at his friend. It was hard enough to avoid the young Galadhel in Lorien. To travel with him for nearly a month would entail such closeness that Erestor feared he would be unable to shield all of his secrets from the younger Elf. Rúmil was no fool. The middle brother of the three trusted wardens of the Golden Wood was a proven warrior, and he had earned his rank through his own merits, not his older brother’s. “What does he know?” Erestor asked quietly.

“Only that Elrond has asked for you and that he is to escort you to Imladris. He was not informed of why. We leave it to you to decide when and how much you wish to tell him,” Galadriel answered. “He will remain in Imladris until we visit in a year’s time, then return home with our party. We shall winter next year in Elrond’s haven and enjoy the time with our daughter and grandsons.”

“Rúmil is a well-trained warrior of sound judgment, and it will do him well to travel and spend time in another realm,” Celeborn said. “He will be a reliable guard for you and provide enjoyable company. He has been told that you know the way to Imladris and that you will be his guide in this.”

“Very well,” Erestor said quietly. “I shall trust in your judgment.”

“You are sure you remember the way, Erestor?” Galadriel asked for the hundredth time.

Erestor smiled slightly and answered patiently, “I remember, Galadriel. The rivers and mountains will not have changed so much since I last made this journey. “I suspect that Imladris will have changed, however. Since I made the decision to go I have found myself looking forward to seeing it and old friends again. Mayhap I am finally healed and it is right that I do this. Time shall tell the truth of it.”

~~~*~~~

The first day as they journeyed through Lothlórien along the western flowing Celebrant River toward the Misty Mountains was largely spent in silence, even during the short break they had taken at midday to rest the horses and eat a small meal. Rúmil watched the librarian as they rode, and since the Elf seemed deep in thought, the Galadhel was loathe to interrupt, although he longed to do so. It was apparent, however, that the librarian was becoming more uncomfortable the longer they travelled, for Erestor had not been one to venture far from his domain of books and was unused to riding.

Erestor shifted in his saddle, trying to relieve the burning in his thighs and the soreness of his backside. He hadn't realized that he was quite so out of shape, but over one hundred years of not being on a horse was taking its toll on him. He had spent most of the day thinking about Rúmil and just how much he would tell the young Galadhel. He finally decided that if Celeborn and Galadriel trusted his safety to the Marchwarden and were leaving him to spend the next year in Imladris, he would trust Rúmil with some of his story – the rest would undoubtedly become known when they reached Imladris anyway. He was not ashamed of his life; he had simply looked for the peace and solitude that came with anonymity. He shifted in his saddle once more, and after silently wishing his mount to the other side of Middle-earth, patted the stallion on his neck and whispered what a good animal he was as an apology.

Seeing a frown of pain when Erestor shifted again and hearing his whisperings to the animal, Rúmil smiled and said, “I will warrant you just wished him to the fires of Mordor and felt an apology was needed?”

Erestor looked up and grinned. “How did you know?”

The Marchwarden shrugged. There was still a good three hours of daylight left, but it was certain that Erestor would be too sore to ride tomorrow if they kept going. “You have not ridden much for many years, Master Erestor,” Rúmil said. “Perhaps we should stop for the night. It will not be good for you to overdo it on the first day and be miserable for the next two because of it. It will take nearly two more days for us to leave the shelter of Lothlórien, if I assume rightly that we will follow the Celebrant until it empties into Mirrormere. If the need is not urgent, perhaps it would be best if we travelled shorter distances through our own woods to give you time to accustom yourself to riding again?”

Erestor sighed in relief. “You speak truly, Rúmil. I am indeed out of condition, and welcome your suggestion. Yes, we will follow the Celebrant to Mirrormere, and thence over the Redhorn Pass.”

“We will not pass through Khazad-dûm as the Lady Galadriel does?”

“If it meets with your approval, I would prefer the mountains to the noise of the dwarves. I have no dislike of them – I would simply prefer the solitude of the mountains after the peace of Lórien,” Erestor replied.

“As you wish, Master Erestor,” Rúmil said agreeably. “I have never seen it and was hoping for a glimpse, but I am content to wait for another time.” Their horses slowed to a gentle walk as he led them closer to the river. “There is a spot ahead nearer the river where the trees will afford good shelter. There are no telain near, so we must rest on the ground, but we are safe until we leave the boundaries of Lórien, and we will both be able to sleep without need for guard until we do.”

They set up camp in a sheltered glade on the banks of the river, and Rúmil made a stew of the fresh fowl he had hunted, along with fresh herbs from the forest, saving their dried meat, fruit and waybread for when they could not find other food. The Galadhel insisted on preparing the meal while Erestor rested, and after they had eaten, they sat close to the fire and watched the sunset. Erestor had remained as quiet as usual, simply looking into the distance a good part of the time.

“Master Erestor, may I ask you a question?” Rúmil finally broke the silence.

“Hmmm?” Erestor looked at the Marchwarden. “Yes, of course you may,” he said. “Forgive me, Rúmil, I have been poor company today, but there was much on my mind that I have needed to think on. What is your question?”

“Why did Lord Elrond ask for you in Imladris? Have they no elves there for his library?”

Erestor hesitated only for a moment, having already decided to tell Rúmil the truth if he asked. “I would imagine that there are many, but I am not going to Imladris to help Elrond with his library. He needs help because the Lady Celebrian is with child, or rather, children. She carries twin sons, and Elrond has asked for me to help him so he can spend time with his new family.”

“But why…I am confused. Why would he want Lord Celeborn’s chief librarian?” Rúmil cocked his head and looked at Erestor keenly. It was not lost on him that Erestor said ‘Elrond’, not ‘Lord Elrond’. “Then you must know Lord Elrond. From before, I mean. Before you came to Lórien. Do you know him well, Master Erestor?”

Erestor nodded and then smiled. “Please call me Erestor, Rúmil. I have never been overly fond of titles, and if we will be journeying together for as many days as we have ahead of it, I should like to have your company as a friend, not merely a guardian. Yes, I have known Elrond since he was but an Elfling. That is why he asks for me.”

“Then you are older than Lord Elrond?” Rúmil asked in amazement.

“Yes,” Erestor said, “although I am not as old as your Lord and Lady or Lord Círdan.” He sighed and lay down on his bedroll, stretching his sore muscles.

Rúmil chewed his bottom lip before finally saying, “May I ask you another question, Master Eres….Erestor?”

“You may,” Erestor replied, knowing that if he and Rúmil were to travel together and protect each other it was necessary for the younger Elf to know more about him and be comfortable with him.

“Am I right that you were not a librarian before coming to Lórien? What made you come here?”

“Yes, you are right, Rúmil, although I have always loved books,” Erestor said softly. “And that was two questions.” He smiled at the Galadhel, and then sobered. “I came to Lórien because I had lost my king and I could not bear to dwell in his palace without him. I came seeking peace and solitude, and the restoring of my soul. And all of that I have found here.”

Rúmil could hear the pain in Erestor’s voice, and he lay down on his own bedroll and looked at the elder Elf. That the king Erestor referred to was Ereinion Gil-galad there was no doubt; the Elf he knew as Lord Celeborn’s chief librarian had arrived in Lórien shortly after the king’s death, and Rúmil wondered what their relationship had been – if they had even been lovers. For some reason that thought disquieted him. “I am sorry,” he said quietly. “Were you close to the high king? You do not have to answer if you do not wish to speak of it.”

Erestor rolled onto his side and looked at Rúmil for long moments. Ignoring the offer to remain silent, he said, “We were closer than friends and I loved him as a brother. For over three thousand years I served him. It tore my heart out when he was killed, Rúmil. When Elrond and Círdan came to Lindon and brought me the news….” His voice trailed off and he remained silent for a time, and then spoke again. “Elrond wanted me to go to Imladris with him; Círdan wanted me to stay in Lindon. But I could do neither, so I came here.”

Rúmil thought of his own brothers and caught a glimpse of the pain Erestor must have suffered. “If I ever lost Haldir or Orophin,” he whispered, “I do not know if I could go on.”

Erestor smiled ruefully. “You would go on, Rúmil. You would go on because there is no other choice. To do anything less would dishonor their memory.”

“But still….” Rúmil shook his head to get the unimaginable horror of such a loss out of his head. After a moment he said, “You are really not as cold or shy as everyone says, are you?”

Erestor stared at Rúmil, shocked, and then laughed heartily. “I have been called many things, but I do not recall ever being called shy or cold before,” he said. “Is that truly how I have appeared to others here?”

Rúmil nodded. “Some thought you so. I thought you merely quiet. You always treated everyone with too much kindness to be cold.”

“Thank you for noticing,” Erestor chuckled.

Rúmil wisely felt he had grilled Erestor with enough questions for one night and said, “Thank you for telling me….well, everything. Rest well tonight, Erestor. We are safe here, and there is naught that will disturb our sleep unless a forest animal pays us an unexpected visit.”

Erestor nodded and once again stretched his aching body before settling down to sleep. With a last whispered, “Good night, Rúmil,” he drifted off into reverie.

~~~*~~~

Early morning saw them again traveling across Lórien, following the Celebrant River, this time in more companionable conversation. Although Erestor’s aches were much improved, he was glad that they would break their journey for an hour or two at mid-day and stop for rest early in the day again.

“Erestor, may I ask you a personal question?” Rúmil’s continuing curiosity about the older Elf had finally gotten the best of him again.

The librarian chuckled. “Yes, you may ask me,” Erestor replied. As far as he was concerned, all of Rúmil’s questions had been personal ones.

“You have never mentioned having a mate. Did you never marry?”

“No, never,” Erestor replied.

“Why?” Rúmil asked. “It is normal for Elves to take a mate, and unusual for us to wait many years to do so. Those that wait long years as Lord Elrond did are rare.”

Erestor shrugged and answered with another question. “You are no longer young, Rúmil, and yet you have never taken a mate either that I have heard of. You are a thousand or so years old? Why did you never take a mate?”

It was Rúmil’s turn to shrug. “I never met anyone that interested me I suppose.”

“The maidens of Lórien are not fair enough for you perhaps?” Erestor asked with a grin.

Rúmil snorted. “The maidens of Lórien are fair indeed, as you well know,” he said. “I would find them most charming, were I interested in maidens.”

Erestor raised his eyebrows. “There was no one among your fellow Galadhrim either then?”

“Not that interested me in that way, anyway,” Rúmil replied. “Brothers-in-arms, fellow wardens, close friends, but never one I sought for a lover. But what of you?”

"Like you, I have yet to meet the one, Rúmil. Perhaps one day.”

That night found them still within the boundaries of Lórien, each lying on his bedroll and watching as the stars twinkled above them like lanterns seen through branches of the trees. “Have you never wished to do anything but to be a Marchwarden, Rúmil?” Erestor asked.

“No, never. I have wished to gain more experience by seeing other realms though,” Rúmil replied. “Perhaps that is why Lord Celeborn allowed me to escort you, since he knew this. What of you? You were librarian here, but you never told me what you did before you came here.”

“I have done many things and been many things, Rúmil. I have been a scribe, a counselor, a teacher – and a librarian,” Erestor said.

“You never wanted to be a warrior?” Rúmil asked.

“When I was a small Elfling it appealed to me. My brother was the head of our family, our father having been killed when I was but an infant, and our mother following him from grief soon after. My brother and his bonded mate raised me, and I loved them as one would love their parents. Both of them were strong warriors and good leaders. My brother said that two warriors were quite enough for one family, and steered me toward a different course when it became apparent that I would be small of stature. I fell in love with books and have never regretted the decision,” Erestor said. “I am skilled enough with bow and arrow to hunt, and I can defend myself from wild animals if need be, but there my skill with weapons ends, I fear. For anything else I rely on my ability to move quickly and quietly – and hide well,” he ended with a chuckle. “There are advantages to being smaller than most sometimes.”

Rúmil again found himself burning with curiosity to know more of Erestor. The elder Elf had proven to be a surprisingly warm and friendly companion, and the Galadhel was learning hourly of Erestor’s kind and gentle spirit. Risking another question, he asked, “And yet those professions have allowed you to travel to the other realms enough to know the way to Imladris well. Did you visit there often?”

“Often enough before the war,” Erestor answered. “The king would send me with his communications to Lórien and Imladris, knowing that I missed Elrond and longed to see him again. I travelled many times between the three realms. It has been many years since I was last there, however, and I expect it will have changed, and even more so under Celebrían’s gentle hands.”

“I have heard that it is very beautiful,” Rúmil mused. “An enchanted, hidden valley, graced with waterfalls. It is said that the very buildings seem to flow from the land.”

Erestor nodded. “Yes, it is a good description. There are many gardens and hidden groves, and the house sprawls through the valley, almost a part of it. The sound of the falls and the rushing river can be very calming to the spirit. It is a place of rest and quietude, and the very floating by of time is soothing and healing.”

“Why did you not wish to go there after…after the war then?” Rúmil asked.

Erestor answered the question, but not in the way that Rúmil expected. “I did not have any memories of Ereinion in Lothlórien.”

~~~*~~~

Late in the following day they passed where the silver waters of the fair Nimrodel began her trek across the Misty Mountains, and the two Elves passed out of Lórien, still following the Celebrant along the base of the mountains. Days passed, and they crossed the Misty Mountains through the Redhorn Pass, nestled among the three tall peaks called Caradhras, Celebdil and Fanuidhol.

As each day passed, the Elves shared more and grew fonder of each other, each finding in his companion a complement to his own nature. They talked often of books, which both loved, albeit Erestor more than Rúmil, and shared their favorite stories and poems. Both shared a love of chess, and they frequently played together, with the game board only in their minds, and telling each other their moves. As a light snow fell in the western foothills, they lay side-by-side, sharing warmth in a cold, stony shelter before a small fire. The horses stood close together in the narrow cave, resting from their long trek across the mountains, and sharing the warmth of the fire.

“It is good to be out of the high mountains,” Rúmil said in a quiet voice. “I feared the snow would start before we were through.”

Erestor nodded, and then winced and sat up from his bed roll, pulling his hair up from his neck, and trying to untangle a strand that had managed to creep inside his tunic and wind itself around the chain he wore beneath his garments. He had nearly decided to cut the offending piece of his hair away when Rúmil again spoke softly.

“Would you like me to help you with that?”

With a grateful smile, Erestor turned toward his companion and bent his head low, allowing Rúmil access to his neck. “I fear we shall have to cut the hair. It seems to be well and truly entangled.”

“Perhaps not,” Rúmil said, working the hair from the intricate chain with nimble fingers. “Or at least not much of it.” Freeing all but a few strands of the ebon mane from the links, he finally had to grasp the hair near Erestor’s head to keep it from hurting the Elf and pulled it away from the chain, leaving the remainder twisted around the silver. “What is it that you wear on this chain?” he asked. As he pulled away the remnants of broken hair, he realized the chain was crafted of unbreakable mithril.

“It was a gift from my brother who raised me, long ago,” Erestor said. “It is precious to me because it is all I have left of him. I would take it off, but I fear its loss if I do.” When Rúmil was finished, Erestor sat up and pulled the pendant out from inside the front of his tunic, holding it toward the firelight for the Galadhel to see. “You see, it used to be a brooch for a cloak, but I had it molded onto this mithril chain which has no clasp, for safekeeping.

Rúmil looked at the pendant as it shimmered in the firelight, and could not help but exclaim at its perfection. Silver, crafted in the form of flowing water, shimmered with clear white diamonds. “You do well to protect it so, Erestor!” he said. “It is truly a thing of beauty. What does it signify?”

Erestor looked at the pendant, running a finger over it lightly. “It is water flowing from a fountain,” he said. “It was a gift from him when I reached my majority.”

What happened to him?” Rúmil asked gently.

Erestor’s eyes grew sad. “He was killed in battle, as was his mate.”

“I am sorry, Erestor. I did not mean to bring back a sad memory.”

“You did not bring it back, Rúmil, for it is never gone from me, no matter how many years have passed. I watched them die. That is why I told you, if you were to lose one of your brothers, you would go on. I will not dishonor their memory, just as you could never dishonor your brothers’.”

~~~*~~~

Erestor woke before the dawn had broken, perhaps from the stirring of the horses or the crack of a frozen tree branch. It was not surprising that the Galadhel still slept; Rumil had rested little during their crossing of the Misty Mountains, insisting on taking most of the watches himself and allowing Erestor to sleep. Now that they were safely sheltered in the cave with the horses for the night, the younger Elf was able to relax his guard and find his rest.

The light of the half moon filtered softly into their cave, and Erestor watched the strong Galadhel as he slept. Rúmil’s face was softened in his reverie, his eyes half-closed, and his roseate lips gently parted. Light golden hair spread over the folded cloak he used for a pillow. The Elf was beautiful, Erestor thought, and then his heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat. With the surety of his Elven nature and the wisdom of his long years, Erestor knew. There was no doubt in his heart. He loved Rúmil, and not as he had loved his king. This was no brotherly love. It was the love that was reserved for the one Elf who would complete his spirit; the other half of his soul.

~~~*~~~

Three weeks after starting out, they had passed the Hollin Ridge and were just two or three days from the borders of Imladris when the unexpected happened. In the early morning, they were crossing a rocky stretch of land with many loose stones at a goodly pace since they wanted to find more hospitable land, when suddenly one of the hooves of Erestor’s horse slid sideways. The animal struggled to recover its balance, and the librarian was thrown onto the uneven ground. As Erestor’s head cracked on one sharp stone, another jagged rock cut into his side.

Rumil threw himself off of his horse and skidded over the lose rocks to the fallen Elf. Erestor was still and silent, the blood pouring from this head wound pooling in stark crimson over the stones. Pressing his hand over the back of Erestor’s head trying to stop the bleeding, and pulling the injured Elf’s upper body onto his lap, he looked at the pale Elf, barely discerning shallow breathing. Raising his eyes to the heavens, he screamed, “No! Námo! You shall not have him! You cannot take him! Do you not know that I love him? Please, my Lord! Do not take him away!”

The Galadhel lowered his head to Erestor’s chest, oblivious to the tears that fell from his eyes, and a deep, echoing voice that was not his own spoke loudly in his mind, “Then save him.”

Rúmil’s years of serving on the borders of the Golden Wood and caring for wounded guards came to his aid, and he whistled to his horse to come near while gently laying Erestor on the ground. Rising, he hurriedly searched his bags and brought out water to cleanse, herbs to help heal, and bandages to staunch the flow of blood.

It was finally after the head wound was bandaged and the bleeding slowed that he saw the blood on Erestor’s tunic. With a gasp, he turned the injured Elf and lifted Erestor’s tunic and shirt, uncovering the gaping wound in his side. The wound was thankfully shallow and no longer bleeding profusely, so Rúmil cleaned it and bound it tightly with herbs to prevent infection. The wounds bandaged, his gentle hands searched the remainder of Erestor’s body for injury, and found none.

Taking a clean bandage, Rúmil poured clear water over it and gently drew it over Erestor’s face, wiping away the dust of travel and spots of blood that his fingers had placed there, and all the while speaking in a gentle, low voice to his companion. “Please, Erestor, wake. Wake and speak to me and tell me you are not seriously hurt. I cannot bear to lose you. If I do I fear I will shortly follow you. I could not help falling in love with you. All those years I watched you….and loved you. Do not leave me.”

Erestor did not wake, but a low moan left his throat and his fingers clutched at Rúmil’s tunic. Listening to the librarian’s breathing, Rúmil realized that Erestor was no longer breathing shallowly. His breaths were deeper, and the Galadhel’s hope was kindled.

“I have to get you out of here and to Imladris,” Rúmil said, his fingers now gently stroking Erestor’s temple. “I have done what I can, but I am no healer. I have to get you to Elrond. Stay with me, Erestor. Do not leave me. I will stay by your side until you are well again. This I promise you.” Lifting the unconscious Elf into his arms, he quietly spoke to his horse, and the animal folded its long legs beneath him and knelt on the rocky ground. Once Rúmil had mounted with the injured Elf, the horse carefully rose to its legs. The Galadhel called to the other two horses to follow, and they slowly resumed their journey across the rocky ground.

“I have to get you to a more hospitable place to rest for the night, Erestor, and I do not know the way as you do. But I know the Bruinen River is to the west, so we will go to the river and follow it north to Imladris. I do not know if there is a faster way to get you to Elrond, but I cannot risk getting lost.” Rúmil kept up the quiet chatter, hoping it would somehow help Erestor regain consciousness and come back to him. Every so often, the injured Elf would moan pitifully, and it tore at Rúmil’s heart, but Erestor did not wake.

The rocky ground finally turned into open grasslands. Rúmil urged the horses faster, not knowing how far away the Bruinen was, and hoping to reach it before nightfall. He had used most of their fresh water taking care of Erestor and cleaning the blood off his own hands, and he had no idea where else to find water. Holding Erestor tightly against his body, they crossed the grassland swiftly. Gradually, the landscape changed to brush and trees which became denser as they traveled, telling the Galadhel that the river was close. Clearing a rise, the river came into sight, and Rúmil breathed a sigh of relief.

“We have found the river, Erestor,” Rúmil said softly. “We will stop along its banks and rest, as it is nearly nightfall. After I get you resting comfortably, I will fill our water skins and prepare a healing tea for you. I will make you a bed of soft leaves. Does that sound all right?”

When the banks of the river were reached, Rúmil found a grove, well protected by trees, and carefully wrapped Erestor in their cloaks and laid him on the ground. He built a bed of soft leaves, branches, and their bedrolls; and carefully moved Erestor to it, once again covering him with their cloaks to keep him warm. He quickly refilled the water skins and set to work building a fire to prepare a healing tea in the hope that Erestor would awaken. While the water heated, he carefully sorted out his supply of healing herbs to have them ready. He may not be a healer, but as a Marchwarden he knew the herb lore for treating injuries and lessening pain.

Erestor awoke to the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. Rivers of torment surged through his head, and he moaned in distress. In an agony of confusion, he had no idea where he was and what had happened to him. Laboring to open his eyes a crack, he caught a glimpse of golden hair before the fading sun’s light forced them closed again. “Glorfindel,” he whispered brokenly. “Pain…so much pain.”

“Erestor, it is I, Rúmil,” the Marchwarden said softly. “You fell and hit your head and cut your side. Where is your pain greatest?”

“My head…it hurts so much.” Erestor mumbled. “Glorfindel….I feel sick…” The Elf groaned.

“Erestor, can you drink some tea? It will help with your pain.” Rúmil carefully lifted the librarian and put the cup to his lips. Erestor swallowed reflexively, but then gagged, and let out a sob. “Glorfindel….”

Rúmil realized that the Elf was at the least badly concussed and probably experiencing extreme nausea as well as the blinding pain in his head. He was confused and had mistaken him for Glorfindel, not remembering where he was. He quickly reached for a pinch of herbs and gently placed them in Erestor’s mouth. “Chew, Erestor. Chew on the herbs. It will ease your pain and help you rest.”

Once again Erestor’s actions were simply from reflex and he chewed the herbs and swallowed. “Glorfindel…help me. Hurts…sick…so tired….,” he mumbled.

“I do not think we are far from Imladris, Erestor. Rest. Sleep.” Rúmil’s fingers stroked Erestor’s brow, and the librarian fell into a deep sleep. “I have to get you to Elrond, Erestor,” he whispered. “Please stay with me. Do not leave me.” While Erestor slept, the Galadhel gently changed the bandages on Erestor’s head and side, bathing the wounds and applying fresh herbs.

Rúmil lay beside Erestor through the night, holding him to keep the injured Elf warm. He stroked Erestor’s brow and spoke to him softly, all the while beseeching the Valar to spare the Elf he loved.

At dawn’s light, Rúmil once again set Erestor before him on the horse, holding him in his arms, and urged the horses into a run. The injured Elf was still deeply asleep, but it was not a healing sleep: Rúmil knew it was from his head injury. He traveled as fast as he could, stopping only for as long as the horses need to rest. He did not spare a thought for his own comfort or hunger – the only thing that mattered was getting Erestor to Imladris and Elrond. The whole day he kept speaking softly to Erestor, begging him to stay. Erestor’s only responses were pitiful moans that tore at Rúmil’s heart and the mumbling of Glorfindel’s name.

When the Ford of the Bruinen and its Elven guards were sighted at sunset, Rúmil nearly cried in relief. Refusing to relinquish his burden, the border guards gave the Galadhel a fresh horse, keeping Rúmil’s and Erestor’s mounts and the pack horse to care for them. They hurried him to Elrond with four guards to guide the way. As they neared the Last Homely House and passed a guard station, a bell tolled by the Elves at the post announced the coming of wounded. By the time they reached the courtyard, Lord Elrond himself stood at the bottom of the steps, awaiting their arrival.

“Please, my Lord,” Rúmil said, trying to catch his breath. “Erestor was thrown from his horse and his head is injured.” Lowering the librarian into Elrond’s arms, he said, “He awoke once but did not know me.”

“When did this happen?” Elrond asked, laying Erestor on the litter that the healers had arrived with. Seeing Erestor injured had shocked him to the core, but he was a healer first, and he put his personal feelings aside.

“Nearly two days ago,” Rúmil said, dismounting and hurrying after Elrond and the healers as they carried Erestor into the Healing Hall.

“When did he wake?” Elrond asked.

“Last night for a short time. He was in great pain, and I tried to give him some tea made with herbs for his pain, but he gagged on it,” Rúmil replied. “He has slept much of the time since, but moans in his sleep and calls for Glorfindel.”

They had reached the Healing Halls and Erestor was placed on a bed in a separate room. Elrond removed the bandage on Erestor’s head and asked, “Has he any other injuries?”

“His side was cut by a sharp rock, but it is not deep and looked to be healing when I changed the bandage last night,” Rúmil said. “Please, my Lord, can you help him?”

Elrond looked up at the Galadhel. “You are Rúmil, are you not?” At Rúmil’s nod, he said, “I will do everything in my power to help him, Rúmil. Erestor is very dear to me.”

“As he is to me, my Lord,” Rúmil whispered, reaching to take one of Erestor’s hands and holding it in his own. “He cannot leave us.”

Elrond spared Rúmil another glance, looking at him curiously and wondering for a brief moment what his relationship was with Erestor, before turning his full attention back to the injured Elf. Rúmil was forced to relinquish Erestor’s hand when the Elf’s travel stained garments were removed and Elrond searched for more injuries. The Elf-lord winced at the cut in Erestor’s side and the multitude of bruises from his fall. “He did not complain of pain elsewhere?” Elrond asked.

“Only his head, and he said he felt sick. I did not know he had so many bruises,” Rúmil replied guiltily. Wanting to hold Erestor’s hand again, he wished he had not had to step back out of the way for Elrond to work.

“There was nothing you could have done for the bruises, Rúmil,” Elrond said kindly. “It was more important that you brought him here quickly, and you cared for the wounds well.” When healers came with water to bathe Erestor, Elrond took the bowl from them and gently washed and dried his friend’s body himself before clothing him in a warm sleeping robe, making sure that the smaller Elf’s pendant was safely under the robe. “From what you tell me, Erestor’s head – inside – is bruised from his fall. There is little we can do for him except to try and ease his pain and nausea. I believe he will heal, although it will take many days, and we must watch him carefully. He will sleep very deeply much of the time, and even after he begins to heal and is more awake, he will feel very sick and still be in pain.” He ordered the healers to extinguish most of the lanterns in the room to spare Erestor from the pain the light would cause, and then resting his hands on Erestor’s head for long moments, he gently soothed the Elf’s temples and brow. “Erestor, wake now. It is Elrond. Erestor, come back to us and open your eyes. Wake now.”

Erestor moaned. Someone was calling him to wake, and waking meant a return to the pain. But the voice was persistent. With another moan, he opened his eyes slightly, and then closed them again.

“Good,” Elrond said, taking a cup from one of the healers. Lifting Erestor slightly and holding the cup to the injured Elf’s lips, he said quietly, “Drink, Gwador. You are in Imladris. Rúmil has brought you to us and we will care for you. Sip the tea slowly. It will ease your pain and stomach so you can rest.”

Rúmil was amazed to hear Elrond call Erestor ‘sworn-brother’, but when the injured Elf responded to the Elf-lord’s words, he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, and he watched as the librarian drank. It was obvious that Erestor and Elrond were closer than he had realized. He was approaching Erestor’s bed once again when a tall, commanding figure entered the room. He was travel-stained, with a long sword belted at his waist, and wore a great cloak over his armor.

“Elrond, I have only returned and was told about Erestor,” Glorfindel said softly, seeing the state that Erestor was in. “How bad is he,” he whispered, fear showing in his eyes.

“He is very injured, but I believe he will heal in time. He was thrown from his horse two days ago, but the good Marchwarden brought him home to us. Rúmil says he has been calling for you,” Elrond whispered. He set the drained cup aside and laid Erestor back down on the bed again. “Glorfindel is here, Gwador.”

Erestor moaned and reached out an arm, before letting it fall again to the bed, the weight of his own limb too heavy to hold. Glorfindel would take the pain away and make everything better. He always did.

Glorfindel moved to the opposite side of the bed from Elrond and sat down on the edge. Taking Erestor very gently in his arms, he said, “I am here now.” Slowly, he kissed Erestor on the brow and then on each cheek, before finally bestowing a chaste kiss to his lips. “You are safe in Imladris now, dear one, and we will take care of you.”

“Glorfindel,” Erestor moaned. “Hurts…”

Imladris’ captain looked at Elrond pleadingly.

Rúmil’s heart twisted in his chest when he saw how lovingly Glorfindel embraced Erestor and kissed him. He had fallen in love with an Elf who already had a lover.

“The tea he drank will ease his pain, Glorfindel. He needs to sleep.”

Glorfindel once again kissed Erestor’s brow and face, and said softly, “The pain will ease, dear one. You must sleep now. Sleep…sleep. We will be here, watching over you.”

“Sleep, Gwador. I will watch over you. You are safe now,” Elrond whispered.

Erestor moaned, but felt Glorfindel’s arms still around him. He felt warm…Glorfindel always made him feel warm and safe. He heard Elrond, and felt the healer’s soothing touch on his brow. But something was missing – someone was missing.

“May I stay and sit with him, my Lord?” Rúmil asked quietly. Even though he saw how Glorfindel loved Erestor, the Marchwarden would not leave the smaller Elf’s side.

Erestor’s last thought as he drifted off into sleep was, ‘That is the voice.’

Elrond looked at Rúmil and said quietly, “You care for him greatly.”

“I do, and I gave him my word I would not leave his side, my Lord.”

“When did you last eat or rest, Rúmil?” Elrond asked.

Rúmil shook his head. “I do not remember – two days perhaps? It matters not.”

“It does matter, Rúmil. You will do Erestor no good if you starve yourself. Glorfindel has just returned from patrol and you both need to eat and bathe. He will take you to my Seneschal, who will show you to your rooms. I must return to my wife soon, for her time is near, but I will stay with Erestor until you return.”

“I can eat here as well, my Lord. Please let me stay with him,” Rúmil whispered. “I do not wish to leave him.”

Glorfindel looked at Rúmil’s blood-stained clothing, and then looked at Elrond. Giving an imperceptible nod, he said, “Elrond, I will take Rumil to Lindir and make sure he has a meal and fresh clothing. When we have both eaten and bathed, we will return here to relieve you and watch over Erestor.” He slowly removed his arms from about the injured Elf and settled Erestor on the bed, tucking the blankets around him. “Come with me, Rúmil.”

Rúmil knew he had to obey his superiors in this valley, and reluctantly followed Glorfindel out of the Healing Hall and into the main house, where Lindir stood awaiting them. Once they had answered the seneschal’s most urgent questions about Erestor’s condition and the captain had made his requests, Glorfindel departed for his rooms, promising to call for Rúmil in an hour’s time, and Lindir escorted the Marchwarden to his rooms.

Rúmil thought the rooms far too grand for him, but as they were the ones assigned to him by the seneschal, he kept the thought to himself. The seneschal had already anticipated all of his needs, and a meal sat waiting for him on the table before a warmly burning fire in the small sitting room. Clean tunic, leggings and a warm cloak lay on the bed in the large bedroom, and a bath was already partially drawn for him in the bathroom. There was even a hair brush and comb lying on the dressing table in the bedroom, for which Rúmil was grateful. In his haste to get Erestor to Elrond, he had left all of his belongings behind on the horses with the border guards.

Lindir showed him how to add hot water to the bath from the taps, and said, “I must check on my Lady since Elrond is with Erestor. If you need anything at all, just find a passing servant and they will assist you. Welcome to Imladris, Rúmil, and thank you for bringing Lord Erestor home.”

Rúmil thanked the seneschal as Lindir hurried away, only afterwards realizing that Lindir had referred to Erestor as ‘Lord’. It was another piece in what was becoming a massive puzzle, but one he could not solve on his own. Setting the puzzle aside in the back of his mind for the time being, he decided to bathe before eating. He added hot water and scented oil to the water already in the bath, stripped off his bloody clothing, and sank into the warm pool. Worry about Erestor kept him from enjoying the bath as he normally would, and he quickly washed his hair and body and left the bath. After towel drying and brushing his hair, and dressing in the clean, borrowed clothing, he wolfed down his meal, realizing how hungry he was for the first time in two days.

There was still time before Glorfindel was due to arrive and he paced back and forth across the sitting room, trying to deal with his confused emotions. It was clear that Glorfindel loved Erestor deeply. If Erestor and Glorfindel were lovers, then he had never had a chance with the Elf. Perhaps that was why Erestor had spurned any advance made to him in Lothlórien? Could they even be bonded? But no, that did not make sense. Erestor’s words, ‘Like you, I have yet to meet the one, Rúmil,’ came back to him in a rush, making the Marchwarden even more confused. Only one thing remained: he would have to ask Glorfindel himself when the right time presented himself. For now, he would stay with Erestor and simply love him, whether or not that love could ever be returned. He loved the small Elf too much to want anything but Erestor’s happiness. He had fallen in love with the little librarian even before he knew him well, and had loved him for a hundred years. There was nothing that would make that love change; it could only grow stronger. It simply was.

Moments later, Glorfindel knocked on his door and called out to him. Rúmil grabbed the clean cloak Lindir had left for him and opened the door to join the captain. Glorfindel had also changed into tunic and leggings, and wore a warm cloak, for winter would soon be upon them and the nights were cold. Just because Elves did not feel the cold the same as Men did not mean they did not need protection from it. Together they walked silently to the Healing Hall.

Rúmil was surprised to find that Elrond had had two comfortable chairs and two cots brought into Erestor’s room. Glorfindel quietly thanked Elrond for them.

“It will not disturb Erestor if we talk softly and the sound of our voices may even bring him comfort,” Elrond said. “I do not know if he can hear us, but he may. As for the cots, I know you well, Glorfindel. You will not leave Erestor’s side, and Rúmil appears to be of like mind. It is better that you are both comfortable here. I will arrange for your second-in-command to take over your duties, Glorfindel, and will have meals for both of you brought here, but I insist that each of you take some time away once or twice each day, if it is only an hour in the library, your rooms or the gardens. Is that understood?” When both Elves nodded in agreement, he continued speaking. “Either I or another who is close to Erestor will take your place; we will not leave him alone without someone at his side. Call for a healer if he should awaken, and they will send for me, but I expect him to sleep through the night. One of the healers on duty will check on him often. In the morning we must wake him again to drink.” Elrond stopped, looked at Erestor and drew a deep breath. “Just watch over him for me,” he whispered. “I could not bear to lose Erestor.” He leaned over to place a kiss on Erestor’s brow, and then nodding to Glorfindel and Rúmil, took his leave.

Rúmil removed his cloak and moved one of the chairs to the head of Erestor’s bed. Sitting, he reached for one of Erestor’s hands and held it in his own. “He is so pale,” he whispered. “His head – there was so much blood. I feared he would die. I still do.”

Glorfindel nodded and said, “Erestor is strong. He will fight to stay with us. I saw the blood on your clothing. It was why I wanted you to bathe and change. I did not want Erestor to wake and see it, or smell it.”

“You were right to do so, my Lord,” Rúmil replied. “My worry took away any other thought. I did not realize how hungry I was.”

Glorfindel took the other chair and set it on the opposite side of the bed from Rúmil. Taking Erestor’s other hand in his own, he sat down and looked at the Marchwarden. “Just Glorfindel – I am not particularly fond of titles. You look better now. Your eyes burned with determination, but the rest of you looked like you were ready to fall over.”

Rúmil gently brushed a strand of sable hair back from Erestor’s face. “I had to get him here. I knew Elrond could save him and I could do nothing else. It was the only thing that mattered.”

“And for that I can never repay you,” Glorfindel whispered. “May I ask you a question, Rúmil?”

The Galadhel nearly laughed, so reminiscent were Glorfindel’s words of his own constant pestering of Erestor with questions. “Of course. Anything.”

“Do you love him?”

Rúmil glanced up from Erestor’s face and looked at Glorfindel. Answering truthfully, he said, “Yes. With all my heart. Do you?”

“Yes. He is precious to me.” Glorfindel sighed, unclasped his cloak, and then pushed it back onto the chair.

Rúmil gasped as the brooch fastened on the shoulder of Glorfindel’s tunic came into view. It was the same fall of water as Erestor’s pendant, with one exception. Nestled among the diamonds was a golden flower. “Glorfindel - your brooch. It is the same as Erestor’s pendant that his brother gave him, but for the golden flower. What does it signify?” Rúmil whispered

Glorfindel’s answer was halted by Erestor’s moan. Immediately be bent over the injured Elf and whispered, “Be at peace, Tôr-dithen. I am here and will look after you. Sleep…” His fingers soothed Erestor’s brow, and immediately the Elf calmed and fell back into a deep sleep. He looked up at Rúmil and said, “We will continue to speak softly, as Elrond suggested, and perhaps our voices will bring him ease.”

Rúmil was amazed when he heard Glorfindel call Erestor ‘tôr-dithen’. Why would he call Erestor his little brother? Suddenly it all fell into place, and he knew the significance of Glorfindel’s brooch. He knew why Lindir had called him Lord Erestor, and why Glorfindel obviously loved him so much. “You are the mate of Erestor’s brother who raised him,” he said. “That is why he called for you so often. Erestor is from Gondolin.”

Glorfindel was startled to realize what Erestor must have told Rúmil. They were both usually silent about their lives in Gondolin, preferring to keep what the history books omitted away from gossipers, and choosing instead to treasure the memories in their hearts. He wondered exactly what Rúmil meant to Erestor. “Yes,” he admitted. “Ecthelion is my bonded mate, and I know he awaits me in the Blessed Realm. We were already married when Erestor was born and their parents died. Erestor is as dear to me as my own child would be, and as close as blood to me.”

“Your brooch signifies the union of your two houses, the House of the Fountain and the House of the Golden Flower, and Erestor is of the House of the Fountain,” Rúmil said, looking at Glorfindel and Erestor in awe.

“The brooch was upon my cloak when I gave it to Erestor and sent him to the rear of the line to help with the wounded as we reached Cirith Thoronath. He preserved it and gave it to me on my return. Ecthelion had gifted it to me at our bonding.” Glorfindel fingered his brooch reverently. He had no idea why he was sharing this information with Rúmil, but something about the Marchwarden made the golden lord trust him. Perhaps it was the fact the Erestor had trusted him first.

“Erestor must have been overjoyed at your return,” Rúmil said.

“He was,” Glorfindel whispered, his eyes growing soft as he remembered how Erestor had collapsed in his arms, their tears mingling together. “I did not even know if he lived until that moment, and I was so very proud of him. He had survived to counsel not just another king, but the High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth.”

“Another king? Erestor was counselor to the king in Gondolin and to Gil-galad?” Rúmil asked, astonished.

Glorfindel nodded. “He did not tell you that part, I see. Well, I should have suspected he would leave it out. He was never one to boast, but Erestor is just as intelligent and wise as he is beautiful and good. It did not take either king long to see those qualities in him.”

“That is how he came to know Lord Elrond then,” Rúmil said. “Erestor told me that he had known your lord since Elrond was an Elfling.”

“Knew him?” Glorfindel said, raising his eyebrows. “It was to Erestor that Gil-galad entrusted Elros and Elrond when they were returned to him. It was Erestor who made Elros into the great king of Men that he was, and it was from Erestor that my Lord Elrond learned knowledge and wisdom!” he said proudly.

Rúmil was silent for a long moment, and then whispered sadly, “He is so far above me. I should never have hoped that he could love me in return.”

“If you believe that, Rúmil, then you do not know Erestor well. Erestor judges neither by position nor title, but by the worth of the individual. Were it not already a part of his nature, Gondolin would have taught it to him. You are not made honorable by a title or age, Rúmil. I suspect that Erestor has deep feelings for you, else he would never have told you the things he did. What those feeling are, I cannot say; that you will have to ask Erestor when you tell him how you feel.”

“You think I should tell him?” Rúmil asked in astonishment.

“I do. Erestor will be honest with you and tell you if your feelings are returned. He would never hurt you and he does not play with his affections. He has lived far too long and been though too much for that.”

Rúmil sat and thought for a long time before Glorfindel finally convinced him to lie down on one of the cots and get some sleep of his own.

~~~*~~~

Over the next several days, the two elves kept watch over Erestor in the dusky room, the windows having been covered with dark cloth to keep the light from hurting Erestor’s eyes. Elrond or Lindir would relieve them for an hour or two each day – practically forcing them out of the room and into the gardens for some fresh air. Erestor slept deeply, coming reluctantly awake the several times a day that Elrond or Glorfindel called to him to wake and drink. Teas to dull the pain and ease his nausea were soon enough joined by rich broths to strengthen him. Erestor was still confused, not fully comprehending where he was. He spoke little, except to moan Glorfindel’s name, although each day his time awake lengthened. He began to hold onto Glorfindel or Rúmil’s hand when his was taken, and each day his grip grew stronger.

Glorfindel and Rúmil spent the first few days together talking, and grew to like and admire each other, their mutual love for Erestor solidifying their relationship. They raided the library for Erestor’s favorite books during their daily strolls, and would read softly to the sleeping Elf so that he would always hear one of their voices.

Elrond would run to the Healing Hall several times a day and check on his friend for a few short minutes, until one day he did not come at all, and twinned lusty cries were heard throughout the Last Homely House. Rúmil and Glorfindel sat and grinned at one other, content that no one had come to relieve them for their hour out of the room that day.

“Elrond’s sons have been born, Tôr-dithen,” Glorfindel whispered to Erestor. “It sounds like your future students have a healthy set of lungs. You must get well, little brother. Who will run Imladris while Elrond cares for his wife and sons and you are in here?” He gently stroked Erestor’s brow, which was finally free from the bandages.

“You and Lindir,” Erestor said hoarsely, not opening his eyes.

“You are awake!” Glorfindel exclaimed softly, lifting the Elf to a sitting position and enfolding Erestor in his arms.

Erestor sighed, burrowing into Glorfindel’s warmth and opening his eyes a little. “My head…hurts. Feel sick. Tired.”

Glorfindel motioned to Rúmil to take his place. “Erestor, Rúmil is going to hold you while I get your tea to make you feel better,” he said, carefully moving to allow his younger brother to lean against the Marchwarden. Once Rúmil had his arms wrapped around Erestor and was speaking to him softly, Glorfindel left their side to retrieve a cup of tea from the kettle kept warm by the fire.

Erestor sighed deeply, something in the back of his mind making it feel familiar to be in Rúmil’s arms. As the Galadhel continued speaking to him softly, the smaller Elf remembered. “Your voice…I heard it,” he whispered. “You spoke to me…telling me to stay…”

“I was so afraid you would leave me,” Rúmil whispered, placing a warm and gentle kiss on Erestor’s brow.

Glorfindel returned to the bedside and held the cup to Erestor’s lips. “Drink, dear one,” he said. “It will ease your pain and help you rest.”

When the cup was empty, Rúmil said, “Sleep, Erestor. You are starting to get better, but you need to sleep still. Glorfindel and I will be here when you wake again.”

“Sleep,” Erestor mumbled. “Glorfindel and Rúmil here…” Making himself comfortable against Rúmil, he said, “Hold me,” and drifted off into a deep sleep.

Rúmil made himself comfortable, sitting on the bed and leaning on the headboard, more than content to hold Erestor in his arms as the Elf slept. “He is getting better,” he whispered to Glorfindel. Smiling softly, he stroked Erestor’s head gently, careful not to touch the still healing wound there.

Glorfindel nodded and smiled. “Yes. And he remembers you,” the captain said happily. Erestor looked good in Rúmil’s arms, he thought. As if he had been made to rest there.

~~~*~~~

Erestor continued to improve daily and began to spend several hours awake each day, although he was still bothered by headaches and nausea. He spent those hours just lying and listening to Glorfindel and Rúmil and occasionally speaking. Eventually the nausea subsided and his appetite returned, and he was brought copious amounts of rich, hot broth and bread for his meals.

At Erestor’s urging, Glorfindel began to leave his brother in Rúmil’s care for several hours a day and joined Lindir in Elrond’s office to help the seneschal handle Elrond’s workload. In Glorfindel’s absence, if Erestor wasn’t sleeping he would talk to Rúmil softly, relishing the time spent alone with his secret heart’s desire. Erestor finally learned the story of his fall and injury. Those memories were gone from him forever; the only thing he recalled was the sound of Rúmil’s soothing voice and the feeling of being held in strong arms.

The day after the birth of the twins Elrond resumed checking in on his patient at least twice a day. Within another week, just as the first snow of the season fell on the valley in a soft blanket of white, Erestor was released from the Healing Hall, but not from his bed. Elrond predicted that it would still be several more days before he felt well enough to rise. The headaches would continue for some time, although continually lessening in frequency and intensity.

Seeking to foster the growing closeness between his brother and the Marchwarden, Glorfindel gave up his prerogative, and it was Rúmil who carried the healing Elf in his arms to Erestor’s rooms. The Galadhel noticed with happy astonishment that his own rooms were right beside Erestor’s. Rúmil had returned there for brief moments every day to bathe and change clothes, but he had not realized that he had been placed in the family wing of the house. Glorfindel and Elrond followed behind as they entered Erestor’s rooms, wanting to assure themselves that he was comfortably tucked up in his bed before returning to their duties for a few hours.

When Glorfindel and Elrond were finally gone, Rúmil sat on the edge of the bed and asked, “How are you feeling, Erestor? Better? May I bring you something or would you just like to rest?”

Erestor smiled at the Galadhel and took one of Rúmil’s large hands in his smaller ones. “I am feeling better, thanks to you,” he said. “I have not thanked you yet for saving me and bringing me here. Elrond said if I had been alone I may have bled to death. I owe you much.”

“You owe me nothing,” Rúmil replied. “I would do anything for you, Erestor. You have become very dear to me.” He gently lifted Erestor’s hand and placed a soft kiss on it, wondering if he dared to follow Glorfindel’s advice and tell the smaller Elf of his feelings.

“As you have to me,” Erestor whispered. “When you carried me here to this room…I remembered you holding me in your arms before. Was it on the way here?”

Rúmil nodded and kissed Erestor’s hand again. “I held you on my horse, and the night we rested by the Bruinen I lay beside you and held you.” So often had he said it as Erestor lay unconscious, that the words passed his lips unbidden, without conscious thought, a very part of his fiber: “I love you, Erestor.”

Erestor gazed up in wonder at the Galadhel. Lifting a hand, the smaller Elf carefully traced a line from Rúmil’s high cheekbone to his chin, letting his fingertips linger over soft lips. With a gentle smile on his face, he whispered fervently, “All of my life I have waited for the one who would complete me; the one my soul yearned for. I did not know that he had been before me for all these years, sitting in my library and pretending to read while he watched my every move. I did not know until that night we spent in the cave and I watched you as you slept. In that moment I knew my heart had found its home and my soul had found its mate. I love you, Rúmil. I would not trade one year of my waiting. Every moment of loneliness is now precious to me, for they brought me to you. It was worth it. It was all worth it. You, my beautiful Rúmil, were worth waiting for.”

“Oh, Erestor,” Rúmil breathed, enfolding the elder Elf in his arms. Lips sought their mates in a kiss of such sweetness that it was nearly unbearable. The Marchwarden lifted his head to gaze into sparkling gray eyes for a moment before his mouth once again sought that sweetness. Lips and teeth gently parted and dual moans filled the room as tongues wrapped around the other in a slow and ancient love dance. And when they finally parted, two pair of eyes filled with love locked together.

“Thank you,” Erestor whispered. “Thank you for watching me, for waiting for me, for loving me.”

“It is I who should thank you,” Rúmil replied, his lips caressing Erestor’s brow. “I feared you would think that I was too young, or of too low a station in life for you. You are so far above me, Erestor.”

Erestor took his arms from around Rúmil and held the Galadhel’s face in his hands. “Never say that again, Rúmil. You are a Marchwarden of Lórien, and you are good and kind and intelligent. And you are beneath no one in all of Arda, except your Lord and Lady and Lord Elrond, but so are we all beneath them in their wisdom,” he said firmly. He took a deep breath and added shyly, “I feared you would think me too old and small for a warrior such as yourself.”

“I will never say it again, if you never say that again. You are truly beautiful, Erestor. There is no one whose spirit shines brighter to me than yours. I think I fell in love with you the very first time I saw you in Lord Celeborn’s library,” Rúmil said. “But as much as I want to sit here and hold you and kiss you, you must rest. Will you not sleep for a while? Lord Elrond plans on bringing his sons for you to see them this evening, and you should be rested.”

“Oh, the little ones,” Erestor sighed, once again wrapping his arms around Rúmil and curling up against his chest. “How I long to see them and hold them. Then will you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Will you open the curtains and let me rest in your embrace and fall asleep with your strong arms around me while I watch the snow fall gently?” Erestor whispered. “And as I fall asleep, let me feel your sweet lips upon mine. Hold me while I sleep and let me wake again in your arms.”

“I would hold you in my arms for as long as we live,” Rúmil replied. And so he opened the curtains and then sat against the headboard with Erestor comfortably resting in his arms. They watched the gently falling snow until Erestor fell asleep with a soft kiss on his lips.

~~~*~~~

Glorfindel quietly entered Erestor’s rooms, bearing a tray with their dinner. Setting the tray on the table in the bedroom, he watched as his brother slept nuzzled against Rúmil. Erestor’s mouth was curved into a gentle smile. “Did you tell him?” he whispered.

Rúmil nodded, rubbing his cheek gently against Erestor’s head. “He loves me, Glorfindel,” he said softly. “I still cannot believe it, but he loves me.”

“I was fairly certain that he did,” Glorfindel whispered back with a grin. “It is time to wake him to eat. I have brought him much heartier food than he has been getting. Elrond and Celebrían are bringing the twins after dinner.”

Rúmil slowly rubbed Erestor’s back. “It is time to wake, my treasure,” he said softly into a pointed ear. “Your brother and dinner are here. Glorfindel has brought you real food, and it smells wonderful.”

Erestor mumbled something unintelligible, and then nuzzled deeper into Rúmil’s neck. “Want to stay here. Nice.”

Chuckling, Rúmil said, “If you wake up I will give you a kiss.”

The smaller Elf lifted his head and looked at Rúmil with a smile. “All right,” he said, sinking his mouth onto the Marchwarden’s. There was nothing he wanted more than Rúmil’s sweet kisses. They took all the pain from his head away, made his toes curl deliciously, and made him feel like he was young again.

Laughing softly, Glorfindel brought the tray of food and set it on the end of the bed. “Save one of those for me, Erestor. Well, not one of those exactly. A simple kiss for your brother will do.”

Erestor grinned against Rúmil’s mouth and managed to tear himself away from the Galadhel. Sitting up he held his arms out to Glorfindel and was enveloped in a warm hug. “I love you, Glorfindel,” he said, kissing the captain soundly on his cheek.

“I am very glad to have you back again, Tôr-dithen,” Glorfindel replied, kissing the smaller Elf’s brow. “I love you, Erestor, and I missed you greatly, but your love was always with me,” he said, releasing his brother and reaching for the tray of food. “And I reckon that now you are hungry for some real food. What do you say to a nice meat stew with vegetables and fresh bread instead of plain broth?”

“I say I am hungry!” Erestor responded, sitting back against his pillows and reaching for Rúmil’s hand.

~~~*~~~

After their meal the three Elves sat talking quietly, although Glorfindel and Rúmil did most of the talking, and waiting for the advent of Elrond and Celebrían with the little Elflings.

The new parents finally arrived, each holding one of the twins, and Elrond said, “Elladan, this is your Gwador Erestor.” Placing the Elfling he carried into Erestor’s arms, he said, “This is my eldest son.”

Erestor looked at the tiny babe in his arms and smiled as miniature fingers wrapped around one of his long ones. “Oh, he is beautiful!” Silver gray eyes blinked up at him curiously, and Erestor held Elladan close to his chest, breathing the infant’s sweet scent, before placing a soft kiss on his brow.

The same actions were repeated with Elladan’s brother, Elrohir, and then Rumil and Glorfindel held the Elflings, and Celebrían sat on the bed beside Erestor and took his hand. “I am glad you are better, Gwador,” she said, bending over to place a chaste kiss on Erestor’s brow. “I was very worried about you, but Elrond would not let me visit you before now.”

“Now I wonder why that was so?” Erestor teased, drawing Celebrían’s hand to his mouth to place a kiss on it. He winked at Elrond who stood beside his wife.

“I am so pleased you are here, Erestor, and you will be such a help to Elrond. He has been in need of a chief counselor, and I had hoped you would come to us. Glorfindel and Elrond missed your company greatly,” Celebrían said. “Will you stay and help him govern this realm, and teach my sons as you taught their father, for their sakes?”

“My dear Gwathil,” Erestor said quietly, reaching out and tucking a stray tress of golden hair behind a finely shaped ear. “I have missed Elrond and my brother greatly as well, but I needed the time alone. I am here now, and I would not miss seeing your sons’ grow up. You both honor me by asking me to be a part of their lives. I hope I shall be able to stay for as long as you want me here.”

“Why would you not be able to, Erestor?” Elrond asked.

Erestor looked at Glorfindel with a plea in his eyes for his brother’s assistance. He and Rúmil had not had time to talk about any plans, and he was not comfortable speaking of any on his own.

“Well, you see, Elrond,” Glorfindel began, “there is this very…small…complication.”

“What complication is that?” Elrond asked with a raised eyebrow.

Rúmil smiled at Erestor and then said, “We have fallen in love, my Lord. We have not discussed how we will manage our lives yet, but my duty lies with my Lord and Lady. My brothers reside in Lórien, and his brother – brothers,” he added, nodding at Elrond, “are here. I do not know how we will work it out, but surely there must be a way. I will not leave Erestor.”

“And I will not leave you, Rúmil,” Erestor answered firmly. “I know Celeborn and Galadriel want me here, so I do not doubt that they would release you from their service, but what of your brothers? I know you are close to them. I would not have your family separated because of me.”

“But what if your brothers were to travel here as escorts to Celebrían when she returns from visits to her parents or they visit here?” Glorfindel injected. “Would it be enough for you to see them at such intervals, Rumil? There could be a span of years in between. Erestor, if he took up the post of chief counselor, would not be free to travel to Lórien often, just as I am not. His first duty would be to Elrond and this realm.”

“I cannot ask this of you, Rúmil,” Erestor said sadly. “How could I ask you to give up the Golden Wood and your family?” His heart broke as he saw either his dreams of life with Rúmil or his own family shatter. Why had the Valar been so cruel as to finally let him find his soul mate at the cost of being able to be near his brother? There was no way this could work except for him to return to Lórien.

Rúmil rose and silently placed Elrohir in Elrond’s arms. The tall Galadhel walked to the other side of the bed and sat down beside Erestor. Taking Erestor’s hands in his own, he said softly, “Do you not know that it would be no sacrifice for me as long as I had you beside me? Erestor, your love and your happiness is all that is important to me. It does not matter to me if we are in Lórien or Imladris, as long as we are together. My brothers and I spend months apart from each other now if we are on patrol; it would be only a little different. There is much travel between the two realms, and I will still be able to see them. Even if it is a number of years, what are a few years to we Elves after all? They will understand and would wish for me to be with the one I love. Did you not just spend many more years than we are talking about away from your own brother? I will gladly stay here in Imladris with you by my side, and I will willingly serve this realm under Glorfindel in its guards, or any other place that Lord Elrond wishes.”

“You would do this for me?” Erestor whispered, his sparkling gray eyes awash with unshed tears of emotion.

“I would do anything for you, my treasure,” Rúmil answered earnestly, and bending over, he sealed his words with a soft kiss to Erestor’s lips.

“You see, Elladan?” Glorfindel said to the Elfling in his arms. “Everything has an answer. All it takes is love.”

~~~*~~~

Rumil continued to remain with Erestor, sleeping chastely in night clothes borrowed from Glorfindel with the smaller Elf curled against him. He watched over Erestor as he rested, and kept him company during his hours awake. Erestor continued to improve, although he still slept much more than usual and tired easily.

After several days of walking to and fro in his room, the recovering Elf was finally allowed outside. Wrapped up in a warm cloak, he ventured out into the snow between two tall, golden-haired warriors. Two strong arms encircled his waist, keeping him warm and secure, while a dark-haired Half-Elf watched from the porch. Erestor took a deep breath of the crisp, pine-scented air and smiled, happy to walk amongst the snow-covered gardens with the two Elves he loved most in the world. All was calm and peaceful, and the land was hushed in her winter’s sleep. All was right in Erestor’s world.

Yule was just a week away, and although Erestor was not yet allowed to begin even a part of his new work, he was allowed to participate in the Yule preparations. Rúmil was surprised to see all of the pine boughs and holly brought into the house and decorated with ribbons, as well as the huge evergreen tree placed in the great hall. Erestor explained that they were customs of Gondolin that he had brought with him to Lindon. Since Elrond had grown up with the Yule traditions of Gondolin, the Elf-lord had brought them to Imladris.

Erestor sat in the great hall with Rúmil, carefully cutting paper snowflakes to decorate the tree, and talked about the celebrations on Yule Eve when the whole valley would gather in the house for a great feast with dancing and games for the Elflings afterwards. And Rúmil learned about Father Yule putting gifts in the stockings of good little Elflings during the night.

“And what happens if the Elflings were bad?” Rúmil asked, finishing cutting out a snowflake and reaching for a new piece of paper.

“Well, theoretically, they would get a lump of coal in their stocking, but I do not know of it ever happening. You do not know any bad Elflings, do you?” Erestor grinned.

Rúmil snorted. “Perhaps it is as well that Father Yule did not know about me when I was young,” he said. “So do only the Elflings get gifts?”

“The adults exchange gifts among family members and close friends, and they give the Elflings more gifts as well. I asked Glorfindel to go to the marketplace and purchase some gifts for our friends and the Elflings for me.”

“Erestor, if I wanted to purchase gifts for the…Elflings, where would I find this marketplace?”

“It is farther down the valley,” Erestor answered, smiling. “You cannot miss it if you follow the Bruinen. You have been stuck here with me for too long. I am sure you long for fresh air and exercise, and it would be a kind gesture for you to give the little ones something for their first Yule. Perhaps you could get some sweets for the older Elflings as well? I will be sitting right here, and if I tire before you return I will go to my rooms and rest.”

“I have loved being stuck with you, Erestor,” Rúmil said, stealing a quick kiss before he dashed off.

~~~*~~~

Rúmil returned and quickly put all but one of his purchases in his own practically unused rooms before going to Erestor’s rooms. He had been gone quite some time and reasoned that Erestor would have long ago returned to his rooms to rest. Erestor, however, was not resting. Instead, he was standing in the open balcony, his back to the room and his eyes to the stars. Rúmil thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight than the Elf he loved, standing in the gently falling snow with icy flakes sparkling on his dark hair.

Silently picking up a blanket from the bed, he walked to the balcony and draped the soft wrap around Erestor from behind, then enfolded the smaller elf in his arms. Erestor’s head barely reached to under his chin, but he thought how perfectly they fit together.

“Rúmil,” Erestor whispered, pressing his back closer against the warmth of the Galadhel’s chest. He looked up and over his shoulder, a smile on his face and his eyes twinkling. “You are back.”

“And you are standing in the snow,” Rúmil chuckled. “As beautiful as you look, I do not think Lord Elrond would approve of his prize patient trying to freeze himself.”

“I love the snow,” Erestor sighed. “I love the winter when all is white and hushed. I love the warm fires and drinking warm, spiced wine. I love cuddling into warm quilts and watching the stars and moon make the snow sparkle like cut crystal. And I love you, Rúmil. I love how you make me feel like a youngling again, and how your kisses inflame me and leave me wanting more. I love how you hold me at night and curl yourself around me, keeping me warm and safe. I love waking up in your arms and seeing your beautiful silvery-blue eyes and feeling your beautiful golden hair on my face.” Erestor turned in Rúmil’s arms and wrapped his arms around the Marchwarden’s neck.

Rúmil caught the blanket as it slipped from Erestor’s shoulders and wrapped it around the smaller Elf, holding it secure with his arms. Snowflakes glittered on Erestor’s eyelashes, and he lowered his head and kissed the flakes gently away before whispering, “I love you, Erestor. I love how you make me feel like I want to spend the rest of my life keeping you safe and making you happy. I love how you burrow into my body as you sleep, as if you are trying to become a very part of me. I love holding your hand and feeling how small it is in mine. I love how you touch my face, tracing those long, elegant fingers across every contour, and I love how you touch my lips with your fingertips. I love how those same fingers make me feel when you bury them in my hair. I love how your beautiful body curves against mine as if it was made to, and how soft your skin feels. I love how your eyes sparkle with silver when you look at me, and how they turn into stormy seas when I kiss you.” Moving his head, he pressed his lips against the pulsing vein beneath Erestor’s ear. His mouth curved into a smile at Erestor’s gasp and he said, “And I love hearing your moan when I nibble on you…just there.”

“Rascal,” Erestor said, pulling Rúmil’s head back down for a deeply passionate kiss.

When they finally parted, Rúmil whispered, “When will you marry me, Erestor? I know it seems soon and I should rightly court you and we should be betrothed for a year, but I have loved you for so long.”

“My Rúmil,” Erestor said, his voice overcome with emotion. “I am far too old and have lived for far too long for lengthy days of courting and betrothal. Such things are for the young, and neither of us could be called that any longer. I shall marry you, my love, just as soon as you would wish, but I would dearly love to wed on the day of Yule. A day that I have always loved would then be all the more precious. Will you marry me and take me for your husband on Yule?”

“With all my heart, I will. Yule it shall be.”

Erestor laughed in delight, the sound only silenced when his mouth was consumed in a deep kiss. The snow fell heavier and neither Elf noticed, so wrapped up were they in each other. When Rúmil finally lifted his head and looked down at the shorter Elf, he smiled to see Erestor covered in white. “You are a little snowElf,” he said.

Erestor laughed joyfully as Rúmil lifted him up and carried him back into the room to a chair in front of the fire. Sitting on the warrior’s lap, he dusted the fallen snow off of Rúmil’s golden hair. “And you are a very large snowElf, my Rúmil,” he said. His snow-covered blanket had fallen to the floor, and he pulled the dry blanket that lay folded over the back of chair from behind Rúmil. After unfolding it, he draped it over both of them and curled into Rúmil’s lap to enjoy the heat from the fire. The warrior’s arms held him securely, and Erestor thought he had never known such happiness and contentment in his long life. Resting his head on Rúmil’s chest, he breathed deeply, inhaling the Galadhel’s scent…and then he smelled it.

The smaller Elf lifted his head. Long fingers of one hand pulled Rúmil’s tunic open at the neckline and he peered down inside as the other hand patted the Marchwarden’s chest until he found what he sought. He felt the outline with his hand and smiled coyly up at Rúmil.

The Galadhel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Seeing Erestor’s hopeful look, he said, chuckling, “Yes, it is yours. I happened upon a certain golden-haired captain in the marketplace who told me of your weakness.”

Erestor grinned and his hand dove down into Rúmil’s tunic, returning with his prize. He carefully peeled away the parchment covering to reveal a hard stick of swirled red and white sugar. Whispering, “Thank you,” and giving Rúmil a quick kiss, he settled back down on the warrior’s lap and popped the peppermint stick into his mouth, looking for all the world like an Elfling with a prized toy.

Rúmil watched as Erestor sucked on the end of the stick, finding his actions most provocative. When the smaller Elf removed the candy and began to lick it while gazing at the Galadhel suggestively, he said, “Brat. You are doing that on purpose.”

“Maybe,” Erestor replied with a grin, giving the candy a lick up its long length. “But I like to bite them too.” Perfectly shaped white teeth carefully bit a piece off of the tip, and he held the candy stick up to Rúmil to try.

“I prefer to have mine this way,” Rúmil said huskily as he pulled Erestor up for a deep kiss, his tongue meeting the smaller Elf’s around the piece of peppermint.

Time seemed to stand still, and it wasn’t until the Elves heard the sound of soft laughter coming from the doorway that they drew apart.

Glorfindel rejoiced for his brother’s happiness, although the sight of Erestor with Rúmil made his heart burn for his own beloved. But he had been assured that he would see Ecthelion again when his tasks on Arda were completed, and to that promise he held. Entering the room, he made himself comfortable in the chair next to Erestor and Rúmil.

Erestor smiled at his brother almost shyly, and with his arms wrapped around the Galadhel’s broad shoulders, tucked his head under Rúmil’s chin. “Look what I have found, Glorfindel! My very own Marchwarden. May I keep him?” he asked teasingly.

“Of course, dear brother!” Glorfindel laughed. “Would you like me to wrap him up for you?”

“I do not think that will be necessary,” Rúmil said, silencing the giddy Erestor with a finger to his lips. “Glorfindel, may we have your blessing to wed on Yule day?”

Glorfindel nodded and leaned back into his chair. “My blessing you do not need, but I give it to you freely. Love him well, Rúmil, and remember if you hurt him, you will answer to me and Lord Elrond!”

The warning would have intimidated a lesser Elf, but Rúmil was a Marchwarden of the Golden Wood, and was stalwart in both body and spirit. He knew the words were said out of love of Erestor. “I will love him well, Glorfindel, and anyone who hurts him will answer to me!”

The captain nodded and smiled approvingly at his soon-to-be law-brother. Erestor had chosen his mate well.

~~~*~~~

It was two days before Yule and all of Imladris was to assemble at their Lord’s bidding to hear his appointment of a chief counselor, followed by a special dinner. Erestor dressed in one of the new robes that had been made for him at Elrond’s orders while he healed. Pale blue and silver, they set off the small Elf’s dark coloring well. His unbraided hair flowed freely around his shoulders and down his back, and his eyes sparkled no less than the diamonds on his pendant. This would be the first time he would appear before the full assembly of Imladris since his last visit as Gil-galad’s ambassador before the War of the Last Alliance, and he took extra care with his appearance. After one final look in the mirror, he turned and smiled at Glorfindel and Rúmil, who stood waiting to escort him to the Great Hall. “I think I am ready,” he said.

“Not quite,” Glorfindel said. “The time has come for you to be who you are, little brother. No more hiding in the shadows. Tonight Elrond will declare you his new chief counselor.”

“And we would have you look the role,” Rúmil added.

Within moments, Rúmil had fastened some of Erestor’s hair back from his face with a silver and diamond clasp, and Glorfindel had set a silver circlet upon his brow.

“Now you are ready,” Glorfindel said.

Erestor took a deep breath and smiled up at the two Elves dearest to his heart. With one tall, golden-haired warrior on either side of him, they walked to the Hall.

Elrond took great joy in announcing Erestor to the assembly as their new chief counselor. Counselors, seneschal, head scribe, and chief librarian were all to report to him, and Erestor’s wishes were to be considered as Elrond’s own. He would help run the affairs of Imladris to allow the Elf-lord to devote more time to his new family, and when the time came, he would be in charge of the schooling of Elrond’s sons.

Erestor was warmly welcomed and applauded by all assembled with few exceptions. One who did not welcome him warmly was a lesser counselor who had come to Imladris long after Erestor’s last visit and had been hoping for the position himself.

Unexpectedly, the disgruntled counselor said, “Lord Elrond, how is it that this practically unknown Elf has been chosen as chief counselor? I have even heard it said that he was merely Lord Celeborn’s chief librarian!”

The room uttered a collective gasp at the counselor’s audacity. Glorfindel glared at the offending Elf and Elrond raised an eyebrow. Erestor, however, motioned to them both to remain where they were, and calmly advanced to stand in front of the lesser counselor.

“The question is a fair one, Counselor….?”

“Saerion,” the counselor replied, looking down at the smaller Elf with somewhat less than a pleasant expression.

‘Counselor Saerion,” Erestor said, looking up at the Elf with a cool smile on his face. “I shall remember your name. Now, to answer your question, it may be that Lord Elrond chose me for the position since I was counselor to his great-grandfather, King Turgon of Gondolin.” Erestor seemed to grow taller as he spoke. “But then I was chief counselor to the High King Gil-galad as well, so that may also be the reason. But personally, I think it is more likely that he chose me because I raised him and his twin in Gil-galad’s court in Lindon and I helped him found Imladris. He therefore has intimate knowledge of my abilities.” In a voice low enough to be heard only by the other counselor, Erestor added, “And if you value your career, in the future you will do well to remember never to question your Lord in front of his people.” In a normal voice he continued, “I trust that answers your questions, Counselor…..Saerion?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned regally with a swish of his robes and returned to Elrond’s side while Rúmil watched him proudly.

To further cement Erestor’s position in the minds of the other counselors, Glorfindel made a decision. His brother and Rúmil had decided to state their vows with only Glorfindel, Elrond, and Celebrían present, but the announcement of their marriage and the disclosure of his ties to Glorfindel could be used as another means of establishing Erestor’s power. “My lord Elrond,” the captain said loudly as he stepped forward. “Rúmil, Marchwarden of Lórien, has petitioned me for Erestor’s hand in marriage. Since Erestor has consented, I have given them my blessing, and request that you witness their vows and grant them your blessing when they wed on Yule.”

Now Elrond, being a very wise Elf, knew exactly what Glorfindel was doing, although he was momentarily shocked that his captain and friend would publicly release the information. But there was no doubt that Erestor could inspire such loyalty, and he played along more than willingly. With much pomp, he said, “Erestor, Lord of Gondolin, Lindon and Imladris, Lord Glorfindel stands in the place of his spouse, your brother Ecthelion, as head of your family, the House of the Fountain. You have heard your law-brother’s words and he has granted his blessing. Is it your wish to be bound to Rúmil, Marchwarden of Lórien, until the ending of Arda?”

“With all my heart it is, my lord,” Erestor said, taking Rúmil’s hand into his own.

~~~*~~~

Yule Eve was a festive occasion. A large pine tree stood in the Great Hall, decorated with lacey snowflakes cut from parchment and hanging crystals. Tiny candles were wrapped around its branches while the wax was still warm, and were lit at the start of the festivities. The entire valley gathered to share a feast to celebrate the season, and after the meal, music and dancing abounded. Elflings hunted for hidden presents of sweets and little toys that had been hidden for them around the hall and within the branches of the tree. Erestor and Rúmil delighted in helping the little ones hunt down the treasures, ensuring each got his or her fair share. Those that did not get as many as the others found special treasures hidden for them within the pockets of the counselor’s and Marchwarden’s robes.

The new chief counselor was a sight to behold in deep blue robes embroidered with silver and gold. Diamonds sparkled in his dark hair as he flew across the hall with the Elflings, laughing and enjoying the hunt as much as they did. By the time the evening’s entertainment was only half done, Erestor had endeared himself in the hearts of all of the parents for the love and care he displayed with the little ones, and whispers of new approval for Elrond’s choice spread among the Elves. Even Saerion had to admit that Erestor seemed to be a good choice for the position, if only for the kindness he displayed with the Elflings. That Erestor would be a wise and just counselor there was already no doubt, once everyone had learned of his experience.

Rúmil paused in the hunt to stand beside Glorfindel and watch the proceedings, straightening his deep green robes borrowed for the occasion from the captain whose build he shared. Little hands working their way into hidden pockets had left them somewhat in disarray. “I think I have managed to save another stick of peppermint for Erestor,” Rúmil said, smiling as he accepted a goblet of wine from Glorfindel. “No wonder he loves Yule so much. There is great joy to be had in making the little ones happy.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Did you never see him like this in Lórien?” he asked. “This is the Erestor that Elrond and I have always known, along with the serious counselor in his office and the council chambers, for none exceed his skills there.”

“I was usually away on patrol at Yuletide,” Rúmil responded. “I could hardly shadow him….much as I wanted to. Most of the time when I was not away I watched him in the library. He told me that he called me his silent watcher. I had no idea he knew I was there.”

“You would be hard pressed to pull the wool over Erestor’s eyes, my friend,” the captain replied with a smile.

“I have already learned that,” Rúmil chuckled. “And how he handled Saerion yesterday! I would swear Erestor grew a foot and that loudmouthed counselor shrank it! He must truly be a great counselor, if how he handled that was any indication. I doubt Saerion will be so indiscrete as to question his lord in public again.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Did I not tell you?” Turning serious, he said, “Rúmil, it is already past the mid of night and therefore the morning of Yule. I know you and Erestor planned to wed later in the day, but the thought occurs to me – why not now? I remember my wedding day and how anxious and impatient both Ecthelion and I were, waiting for the time. Erestor is so happy and free of care right now, and it would keep you both from being nervous beforehand.”

“You mean right now? Just ask the Lord and Lady to leave the festivities and….now?”

“Yes.” Glorfindel grinned. “Right now. See? He is coming towards us. You get Erestor and haul him into Elrond’s office. I will get Elrond and Celebrían.” After setting his wine down, Glorfindel dashed away.

Rúmil laughed joyously at the thought, and when Erestor joined him, the Galadhel bore him away towards Elrond’s office, telling him the plan along the way. The idea of marrying Rúmil right then and spending the night with his beloved as his husband pleased the counselor immensely, and so when the others joined them in Elrond’s office, they found the two lovers locked in each other’s arms in a passionate kiss.

Celebrían chuckled, Glorfindel laughed, and Elrond grinned and said, “I do hope we are not disturbing you.”

Separating reluctantly, Erestor blushed and said, “Of course not, Gwador.” He took Rúmil’s hand, and standing before the others, said, “We are ready.”

“Not quite,” Glorfindel said, drawing a small box out of his tunic and laying it open on his hand for all to see. Inside were two brooches fashioned in the form of flowing water in silver and diamonds, and on the water floated a green mallorn leaf of Lórien.

“I shall stand for you, Rúmil,” Celebrían said. “And Glorfindel shall stand for his brother. In the place of your parents, we give you jewels to mark the occasion.”

Celebrían and Glorfindel each removed a brooch from the box the captain held, and Glorfindel said, “Take these jewels, our gifts to you to mark your marriage. May they remind you always of the bond between our two houses.” He pinned one of the jewels on Rúmil’s shoulder, while Celebrían pinned the other on Erestor’s.

And then Celebrían took the hand of Rúmil, and Glorfindel the hand of Erestor, and joining their hands together, they blessed them. Celebrían invoked the name of Varda, and Glorfindel that of Manwë, and the name of the One was spoken. And when they had finished, Glorfindel placed in Erestor’s hand a golden ring for Rúmil, and Celebrían placed a matching one in Rúmil’s.

Erestor turned to Rúmil, and placing the ring on his finger said, “Rúmil, in you I have finally found my heart’s desire, and I love you more than I have words to say. I take you as my husband for all time. I will feel no cold, for you will warm me. I will feel no loneliness, for you will be beside me. Trials and happiness will come to pass, but no matter what we may encounter together, I will be beside you, the companion of your life. With you I will walk my path, and I will make my home in your heart from this day forward.”

Rúmil placed the ring on Erestor’s finger and said, “Erestor, you are my heart and soul. I give you all that I am, for you complete me. I take you as my husband for all time. I will always love you, and I will always protect you. When you laugh, I will join my laughter with yours, and when you cry, my tears will mingle with yours. I will be the shoulder you lean on and I will always be beside you. Wherever you go, I will go. Whatever you face, I will face. With you I will walk my path, and I will make my home in your heart from this day forward.”

Elrond smiled and placed his hand over Erestor’s and Rúmil’s. “It is done,” he said. “Now you are two, but there is only one life before you. May beauty surround you and happiness be your companion.”

~~~*~~~

Erestor and Rúmil stood in the bedroom of Erestor’s rooms that they would now share. Erestor’s mouth was captured in a kiss so passionate that his legs turned to jelly. He wrapped his arms around Rúmil, grateful for his husband’s strength holding him upright.

Tongues thrusting deeply, Rúmil moaned and pulled Erestor closer, pressing the heat of their arousals together. Finally forced apart for breath, he held the exquisite counselor in his arms and rubbed his cheek against Erestor’s brow. “I love you…I love you,” he whispered. “How is it possible that you are my husband? I do not know what I have done to deserve you and I am afraid I will wake and find it is all a dream, but I can feel it….I feel you inside of me.”

“As I feel you…my husband,” Erestor whispered, experimenting with the words for the first time. “I love you, Rúmil, with all my heart.”

“Will you let me love you, my Erestor?” Rúmil asked. “I long to be completely one with you.”

Erestor smiled and wrapped his arms around his new mate. “It is my dearest wish. I have a confession to make though,” he said. Erestor’s face was burning and he knew he was blushing but he couldn’t help it. “I talked with Glorfindel about…well, you know…and I have been thinking about it ever since.”

Rúmil laughed, his broad shoulders shaking with mirth. “So did I,” he admitted. “I was never so embarrassed, but I…well, I had to know. I did not want to hurt you in my ignorance.” He shook with laughter again. “Did he tell you about the…erm…the thing that….”

“The thing that makes you see stars?” Erestor giggled. “And then there was the…umm…you know…”

Rúmil nodded. Both Elves were laughing until their eyes teared, which did much to dissolve their nervousness. When they finally relaxed and were able to breathe normally again, Rúmil gently removed Erestor’s circlet and laid it on the dressing table. The diamonds in Erestor’s hair were carefully unknotted until the counselor’s dark hair flowed freely around his shoulders. The deep blue robes followed until Erestor stood clad only in his leggings and shirt.

“I want…I want to see you,” Erestor said shyly. “You saw me when I was injured and have helped me change, but I have never…I want to see you – please?”

Rúmil extended his arms and smiled down at Erestor. “I am yours to do with as you will, my husband. All that I am I have given to you.”

Erestor restrained himself and did not tear the garments that Glorfindel had loaned to Rúmil until the Galadhel could have his own made. Robes and shirt dropped to the floor. Erestor ran his hands over the muscled chest and arms, his smaller hands unable to span Rúmil’s biceps. The Galadhel’s short boots and leggings followed, and lastly the warrior’s loincloth. Erestor gazed in wonder at the beautiful body before him, his eyes traveling from bulging calf to thickly muscled thigh, and then stopping at the aroused length that stood proudly before him. “Oh my,” he breathed. “You are beautiful…just perfect.”

“It pleases me that you find me so,” Rúmil said, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief that Erestor did not appear to be intimidated by his size. Gently pulling his mate closer, Rúmil finished the work he had started until Erestor stood bared before him. “No, Erestor,” he whispered, “beautiful and perfect is what you are.” The counselor was lightly muscled and perfectly proportioned, from his trim ankle to his shapely neck, and the size of his stature belied the size of his fully erect endowment.

Rúmil lifted Erestor in his arms and carried him to their bed. “Erestor, are you sure you want me to? I mean, I am more than willing to have you take me,” Rúmil said as he laid his precious burden down in the middle of the bed.

“I am sure,” Erestor whispered. “Not that I do not want to take you too, but not this time. I have dreamt of you making love to me.”

Rúmil made love to him well and truly, and it was all Erestor could have desired. Mouth and tongue lovingly moved across his body until all the counselor could do was moan and grasp at the wild golden mane above him. And when the moment of their joining finally came, Erestor wrapped his legs around Rúmil’s waist and his hands clenched at the Galadhel’s biceps. “Mine,” he whispered. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Rúmil answered softly, “as you are mine.” Moving slowly, he set a pace that was gentle and perfect, and oh so loving. Bending his head down, he captured Erestor’s mouth with his own, his tongue delving into the sweetness.

Erestor was beyond thought as Rúmil thrust into him, over and over. He heard a voice crying out for more, and realized it was his own. A strong hand grasped his erection. He arched his back up into the fist and back down onto the hard shaft that filled him. As they loved, their bond grew stronger, forging permanent links that would endure for all time. Souls joined and split and joined again, each forming anew, having given and taken a part of the other. They were no longer two, but one.

Rúmil cried out when the final forming of their bond was complete, so powerfully did he feel Erestor’s emotions. One heart, one soul, they moved against each other, unified, harmonious, until together they fell, only to be caught and held in loving arms.

“Worth it, worth it,” Erestor whispered, clinging to Rúmil as he tried to catch his breath. “You were worth waiting for. So worth it.”

~~~*~~~

Rúmil awoke early, just as dawn began to roll back the darkness. He smiled lovingly down at the dark head that rested against his chest, hating the thought that he had to leave their bed, if only for a few minutes. Erestor’s Yule gift, however, needed to be fetched, and he wanted his new husband to wake to the surprise. He quietly and carefully slipped from the bed, hurriedly dressed enough to be seen in public, and silently crept from the room.

It was only a matter of minutes before he returned carrying a basket. Quickly shedding his clothing, he removed the contents of the basket and held it against his chest. He crawled back into the bed and snuggled against Erestor. “Happy Yule,” he whispered against Erestor’s ear. “Wake, my love. I have something for you.”

Erestor murmured and curled against his mate, his nose twitching when it hit something that was not his husband’s skin. Reluctantly opening an eye, he encountered black…a soft black. “What is that?” he asked, waking further.

“Your Yule gift,” Rúmil chuckled. “Open your eyes and I will give him to you.”

“Him?” Erestor quickly sat up and looked down at Rúmil. His mouth instantly curled into a smile. “Ohhhhh, he is precious!” His hands reached out for his gift. Taking it, he held it against his cheek, little whiskers tickling his nose. “Good morning, little one,” he whispered to the animal. “Do you have a name?”

“His name is Morvain,” Rúmil said, enjoying Erestor’s reaction to the kitten. Glorfindel had suggested the gift, telling the Galadhel about how Erestor has always had a black cat in Gondolin.

“He is beautiful, Rúmil,” Erestor said, gently stroking the kitten’s soft fur and scratching behind its ears.” His smile lit up the room, and he leaned over to give his mate a passionate kiss.

It took the Elves an hour to find Erestor’s pendant that Morvain had taken as a plaything while his new master was otherwise engaged.

~~~Epilogue~~~

Nearly three thousand years later….

Glorfindel stood against the railing of the ship chewing on his lower lip in nervousness. Erestor held one of his hands, and on his other side, Rúmil stood with his arm around the shoulders of his law-brother. “What if he is not….”

“Hush, brother,” Erestor said gently. “He will be there.”

The haze cleared and a white shore came into view. The dock was covered with Elves, all waiting for the ship, near the last one, that carried the wisest of those from Middle-earth. The ship drew nearer and faces became clearer. Celebrían waved excitedly at Elrond and her mother. Círdan’s family lined the shore waiting for this, his final homecoming. And off to the side stood a lone, tall, dark-haired Elf. On his cloak he wore a brooch of a golden flower that floated upon silver falling water.

The ship docked and Erestor whispered, “Go to him.”

Rúmil and Erestor slowly followed Glorfindel, watching as he flew into the waiting arms of his beloved husband with a cry of, “Ecthelion!”

The End

Tôr-dithen: little brother
Gwador: Brother, especially used of those not brothers by blood, but sworn brothers or associates.
Gwathil: Sister, with the same above meaning as Gwador.
Saerion: Bitter son
Morvain: Beautiful night

A/N: It’s quite possible that Rúmil would have called Erestor a brat. The word comes from Middle English, of Old English origin, which was of Celtic origin. In ROTK, the Mouth of Sauron refers to Peregrin Took as a brat.

Parts of Erestor and Rúmil’s vows and Elrond’s words were taken from Native American (Apache) wedding vows.