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Summary: none given
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"Many are the songs that have been sung of the duel of Glorfindel, chief of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin, with the Balrog upon a pinnacle of rock in that high place, Cirith Thoronath; and both fell to ruin in the abyss. But the eagles coming stooped upon the Orcs, and drove them shrieking back; and all were slain or cast into the deeps, so that rumour of the escape from Gondolin came not until long after to Morgoth's ears. Then Thorondor the great Eagle bore up my namesake Glorfindel's body out of the abyss, and they buried him in a mound of stones beside the pass; and a green turf came there, and yellow flowers bloomed upon it amid the barrenness of stone, until the world was changed," related Glorfindel, with typically vivid recollection.
He closed the ancient book which he noted was practically falling to pieces; such were the dubious housekeeping qualities of the library at Imladris. He sniffed at the cover which even felt damp, let alone was suffering from excess of dampness. Spots of black mould made merry across the spine and tops of the pages where it had been stored. He sighed. Such disrespect! This Age had all but forgotten its heritage, so it would seem.
Two pairs of eyes looked up at him with mounting concern and two mouths gaped in sustained horror. "What happened then?" queried Elrohir. His ears were ringing with the cries of Orcs and screams of Eagles, and great gouts of blood splattering the rocks as flesh was torn apart and bones splintered.
"Where did he go, Lord?" asked Elladan, fingers twisting in his hair. "In the earth, in the cold, hard earth, near the dreadful dark abyss� " He was the most dramatic of the sons of Elrond, frequently taking things to heart which was not a bad habit, according to Glorfindel.
"Do not worry," continued Glorfindel, laying the book aside and reaching for his tea. The soothing brew was just about ready and he held the steaming cup under his nose. The pleasant odour of blackcurrants dispelled the lingering taint of mould. His eyes fell once more on the twins. They were huddled around his feet and he was reading them a bedtime story, one that their mother would not approve of at such a late hour but since she was otherwise occupied with her evening duties, the wisdom of such timing was neither here nor there. He felt that the twins would gain nothing from mollycoddling and everything from having the early history of the Elven race related by one who was, at least, there.
He had previously read them the 'Valaquenta', a book that they would never hear about in their grandmother's realm. It was hard to know if they had taken it in, such a mystical book that it was. But Glorfindel had ploughed on regardless, sowing the seeds of history in their fertile minds, and so they had learned about the glorious halls of Menegroth, of Elu Thingol and his wife, Melian the Maia. Of the dreadful Feanor and his unchaining of the demonic Melkor, and the salutary tale of the Silmarils. That had caused many a nightmare which fortunately the twins had not divulged the origins of, thinking that Lord Glorfindel would cease to relate his wondrous tales if they mentioned the source, even unwittingly, to their concerned mother. Instead, she blamed the cook for serving them food that was too rich too late in the day, and now their supper consisted of malted milk and plain biscuits, an acquired taste that only certain elflings seemed to enjoy. Elladan was one of those who did not, and he poured his milk out the window onto the ground below where it hissed like a serpent in the cold grass, and in the mornings he fed his oatmeal biscuits to the crows.
Later on, the twins had learned of the land of Beleriand, all its realms and peoples, then of its ruin and consequent bloody battles. Next, there was Beren and his trials, all for the love of the exceptionally fair Luthien, whom Elladan thought was probably not as beautiful as his mother or even his grandmother, but let Lord Glorfindel carry on in his delusions. Then there was the fifth battle, Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Elrohir got so excited in that one that he had to run out into the garden and be privately sick in the privet bushes. For weeks afterwards, he practiced with wooden stick and shield in case a dragon should chance upon Imladris, swooping down from the sky on dread leathery wings, breathing fire and blood everywhere. Some elf had to be prepared! When he begged swordsmanship and archery lessons from his father, Elrond was inordinately pleased that one of his sons was showing such interest in the defence of the realm even though he was only seven.
Now Glorfindel was up to the fall of the fair city of Gondolin, more succinctly known as Ondolinde - the Rock of the Music of Water, Jewel of the Echoriath, near to the royal dwellings of the great Eagles, place of marble streets, magical fountains - most principally the fountain in the King's Square where white birds sang and flew gracefully as only they can in such august surroundings, and stately dwellings hewn from the white rock of ages lushly lined with silver and pearls, protected by cunningly hidden ways and seven intricate and tricky gates, and any number of other fine accolades that Glorfindel could lay on the place.
Elladan fidgeted with Glorfindel's robe in agitation, twisting the green and gold brocade around his hand, and the Lord put down his empty teacup. "Please, Lord," he urged. Elrohir looked fit to burst but since his fencing tutor had taught him that to beg was not the way of a future prince of Imladris, he was keeping quiet.
Glorfindel smiled and continued. "One day on Valinor a newly bonded couple came to lay on a mound of yellow flowers and being much in love they lay there all night and conceived a son."
"Yuck," said Elrohir, and Elladan kicked his brother. The tale must continue in spite of such questionable goings on. "Did he put his tongue in her mouth?"
"That he did," answered the Lord. "And in a number of other spots, too."
Elrohir imitated the art of throwing up and received another timely kick.
"This son grew up and became a Lord of his House. On the day of his twelfth birthday he remembered all that had gone on in his previous existence but being of sublime character and not wishing to upset his mother, he kept it to himself. One day he heard some interesting news from Middle Earth and decided to travel there to lend whatever valour he could to the proceedings. There were always battles to be fought and daring deeds to be done, of which he was consummate in both word and action. And on another fine day, he sought lodgings at the place of his friend to give whatever help he could there. The place was called Imladris and his name is�" He tapped the side of his nose with his finger, in conspiratorial fashion. The twins' eyes opened wide. "Time for your beds, I think," he finished. Equal chagrin met his gaze.
At that point Erestor looked in on the scene. He shook his head, having heard the final story from his place in the shadow of the door. "You fill their heads with such asinine nonsense," he said to Glorfindel. "I came to tell you that you have a request to visit Lorien on the morrow. My Lord Elrond has given you leave to fulfil that invitation."
"Thank you, Counsellor," replied Glorfindel. "I will make the arrangements."
Erestor disappeared without further comment and they heard his footfalls echoing down the hallway. Glorfindel motioned the twins to take their leave, and as they did so he thought that it was a good thing indeed that Erestor had not remembered his previous birth. After all, the superb counsellor would hardly like to know that he once trod Arda in the form of the uniquely fêted Celegorm.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The silver-headed Lord of Lorien, formally of Doriath, the bounteous and bountiful Lord Celeborn, was also making arrangements. His wife, the stunning and magical enchantress, Lady Galadriel, grandmother of Elrohir and Elladan, had left for Imladris the previous day. It was her annual visit to their daughter, Celebrian. Not that Celeborn had clapped his hands in glee the moment she'd left because he did love her, but it had to be said that he would not miss his wife's presence in the marital bed *quite* as much as she thought he would. The plain fact was that at this time of year, Celeborn entertained another in his sumptuous trysting place. This was done with as much furtive secrecy as his grandsons employed to stop their mother finding out about Lord Glorfindel's' outrageous education of their innocent minds. The two secrets had one thing in common, that of Lord Glorfindel himself.
It was not unknown for two ellon to become lovers, even if they were both separately bonded, but that one of them should hold such high standing in the community was a little worrying, to say the least. Celeborn's chief anxiety in these annual 'days of passion', as he called them, was march-warden Haldir. This elf was so very efficient in the delivery of his duties that Celeborn found it difficult to outwit him. He was both clever and observant, and therefore a highly unstable deck of cards. Still, this year, Celeborn had played a blinder. He'd sent Haldir off as escort to Lady Galadriel, leaving his less efficient brother, Orophin, in charge. Now *that* was enough of a celebration to have Celeborn clapping his hands in glee.
And all was well until he heard a familiar voice relating the watches of the night. "You will patrol the eastern perimeter until midnight and then Luinilien will take over�" and so on in that irritating and forthright manner that grated on Celeborn's nerves at times like these. Somehow Haldir had managed to get out of the escort duties and was now back at Lorien, fully fledged for action. Stars! Now he had a job on. Glorfindel would be here by the morrow and Celeborn had used up all the excuses he could think of in previous years as to why the Lord would be sharing his private rooms.
What Celeborn didn't know was that Lady Galadriel had asked Haldir to return to Lorien because she trusted him to look after her Lord. He was the most efficient and thorough march-warden that they'd had in a long time. Her magic would protect her on the journey to Imladris but Haldir would do a much better job by protecting Celeborn back in Lorien. Possibly from himself.
--~*~-- --~*~-- --~*~--
"Take me to your leader," joked Glorfindel.
Haldir was nonplussed. He didn't know whether to bow down and worship the celebrated Lord, replete as he was with daring do, or to ignore his ribald quips and sneer instead. He settled for the latter. Every year Lord Glorfindel visited Lorien and it was always when their Lady was away. Why? Maybe he was here to keep their Lord company but why did he never visit when the royals were both in residence? It didn't make sense, he wasn't banned from Lorien, and he was a visiting Lord from Valinor, welcome in most places. Well, he'd been in Middle Earth a long time to be visiting as such, but that didn't alter the fact.
For once, the march-warden witnessed his Lord meeting with Glorfindel. He observed the slight trembling of the hands, the embrace held a little too long, the widening of the pupils of both parties until their eyes turned black. Ha! He'd never hung around long enough to see this but now it all made sense. Or did it? Could he really be sure that such subversion was going on? It could just be down to longing and not to deed. After all, Lord Glorfindel was not bonded, as far as Haldir knew, and Celeborn was very beautiful. This year, his Lord had given Glorfindel rooms the other side of Lorien. Unless, unless� Haldir's nose was twitching like a cat scenting catmint and about to leap in it for a perfumed orgy. He was foremost his Lady's servant and protector, that was the trouble, and even though his orders were to look after his Lord whom he liked very much, his principal loyalties lay with Galadriel.
--~*~-- --~*~-- --~*~--
Evening fell on Lorien. A bewitching sky of midnight blue spread out over the treetops, liberally sprinkled with starlight. According to Haldir, it was a night full of potential romantic torment. When he had arranged the night watches, the march-warden ascended the royal talan and went to the room that only his Lady had divulged the whereabouts of, since it was full of implements useful to the art of magick and more dangerous than an aggravated firedrake who had observed his treasure to be missing. He drew from his pocket a small golden key studded with rubies and inserted it into the seemingly innocent lock. "By the light of the silvery moon," he began, and turned it once. "To my honey I'll croon love's tunes," and there was a trembling in the wooden panels. He continued with, "Your silvery beams will bring love's dreams, we'll be cuddling soon, by the silvery moon," rolling his eyes. Trust his Lady to make up such romantic rubbish and call it an enchantment. The door swung open and Haldir stepped quickly inside. He retrieved a few items and was shortly on his way.
Haldir intercepted Glorfindel on his way to Celeborn's chambers. He'd followed the Lord from one end of Lorien to the other, wrapped in Galadriel's cloak of invisibility. He'd given him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he was going elsewhere at 2 am in the morning, maybe he needed to bathe in the moonlight or something. But no, here he was at the base of the royal talan smoothing down his flowing golden hair and pinching his cheeks to give them more colour. Could anything else be more obvious? This had to be well and truly nipped in the bud. His Lady's honour was at stake! He slipped the cloak off and hid it behind a blackberry bush.
"Aduial vaer, Lord Glorfindel," said Haldir, conveying his wishes with the utmost sincerity. "You seem to be awfully off course for the time of night. Perhaps I can lend some assistance."
Glorfindel was momentarily flummoxed. Wasn't this the march-warden Celeborn had warned him about? A rather attractive blond with vivid blue eyes and a disarmingly innocent face. Mmm, yes, this was the fellow. As Haldir put his head on one side putting Glorfindel in mind of a beady eyed exotic bird, he said the first thing that came into his head. "Aduial vaer, march-warden. I felt the need of some refreshment but in the dark watches of the night I find myself rather off-course."
"That's interesting," returned Haldir, "Since your sense of direction is legendary. It must be the southern transit of Sirius that is upsetting you; indeed it has oft been found to waylay the most assiduous of migrating swallows. Step this way and I shall accompany you to our night tavern. Open all hours, you know."
Glorfindel found himself out matched. The rest of the night was spent at the Eagle's Croft drinking various wines and relating tales of honour and glory to all elves left standing. It took Glorfindel most of the following day to recover since he did not pour a good percentage of his victuals away in the nearest flower pot, unlike Haldir.
--~*~-- --~*~-- --~*~--
"The Eagle's Croft, the Eagle's Croft?" spluttered Celeborn.
"Why yes," reiterated Glorfindel, at his infuriatingly best, "So good they named it twice."
"I could give it a few names," muttered Celeborn. He was practically on heat, pacing up and down the room wearing out the floorboards. "Let's make it tonight, then, and for Stars sake, don't let Haldir catch you out. No, wait, I'll think of something atrocious for him to do. Serve the bastard right."
Glorfindel twisted about in his seat, watching his lover work himself up to a fine old lather. It wasn't such a bad thing really, he'd be much better erotically speaking, if he started off in a fury and worked up to a storm. That was Glorfindel's experience, anyhow, and so he continued in the same vein. "He was only doing his job, my dear. You should be proud of your march-warden. He defends his Lady's honour with the tenacity of a weasel after a six-footed mouse. They run very fast, you know." And he demonstrated with his fingers running over the nearby table.
Celeborn began to laugh. "You've seen a six-footed mouse, I suppose?" He came over to Glorfindel's chair and knelt down in front of him, easing between his legs until his head came to rest on the other's chest.
"Oh yes," returned Glorfindel, stroking through Celeborn's hair. "We used to have them in Gondolin, along with three-legged cats and elves fully laden with double the accoutrements for double the fun."
"Did you indeed," murmured Celeborn, and his hand travelled up Glorfindel's thigh to check. There was a knock at the door and Celeborn's servant informed him that a council meeting was looming. "Damn, I shall have to go," he added. "See you tonight. Please."
"Of course," replied Glorfindel, because he fully intended to be there.
--~*~-- --~*~-- --~*~--
Another night fell upon Lorien. Another midnight blue sky sprinkled with stardust lay overhead and superfluous but truly magnificent eagles flew shadows across the moon. Haldir looked up through a dusty window and fired imaginary arrows at them. His Lord Celeborn had him cleaning out the wine cellars, all four of which had to be completed by morning, an impossible task. Him, a march-warden! It was practically unheard of. It was a good job he'd got this, then. He reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out a small purple flower. It sparkled in the gloom of the cellar as it lay on Haldir's palm and he began to recite the enchantment. "May the cellars be cleared of all extraneous beetles, spiders, rotting tree roots, leaf litter, six-footed mice and three-legged cats, general grime and wear and tear. May the labels be cleansed of all soot, smut and dirt and may all the corks be sealed tightly. May the contents of all the barrels continue to ferment well they might, each according to their maker's wishes. Roll me over in the clover, roll me over lay me down and do it again." The last sentence was repeated ad nauseum until all the aforementioned work was completed and the little purple flower had turned to ashes on Haldir's palm. He rolled his eyes to the firmament. For Stars sake! Another one of his Lady's romantic fantasies. There'd be no clover left in Lorien at all if that were a prerequisite for lovers. However, Celeborn's tasks had been completed, the night was still young and now he'd be on his way.
Glorfindel was just leaving his talan, subsequent to making his way to Celeborn's bed, when Haldir intercepted him again. "Mae govannen, Haldir," said the Lord, hiding his exasperation. "Do you know you've a spider in your hair? Come here." Haldir moved closer and Glorfindel noticed once again the march-warden's beautiful and reflective blue eyes, among other things. He wondered idly if Haldir ever dabbled in alternative accoutrements. "I thought you were working the nightshaft� errr, shift."
"Oh I was," answered Haldir, as Glorfindel delicately removed the spider, flicked it to the ground and squashed it with the heel of his boot. "My Lord Celeborn requested that I do an extra duty for him but now that I've finished it I suppose the rest of the night is mine own. Would you care for a bevy at the Eagle's Croft before you go wherever you are going?"
"Thank you, but I imbibed my full week's quantity of the dread brew last night, if you remember." And he attempted to circle around Haldir.
Haldir stood in his way. "A games of cards, perhaps?"
"Thank you, once again, but no. I have a prior� appointment." That was a good way of putting it, he thought.
"Maybe a meal? Soak up all the extraneous wine?" Haldir was persistent but Glorfindel could hardly compare him to a weasel, efficient hunter that he was, the elf was much too pretty.
"Haldir�" said Glorfindel, "I really do have an� "
"Appointment. Yes, you did say. And was it set in stone?" He moved closer to Glorfindel and kissed him. It was something he'd never indulged in before, not with an ellon, but this was emergency measures and he knew Glorfindel's predilection. He was not prepared, however, for how enjoyable it was going to be and once started�
"Stars!" exclaimed Glorfindel, as his 'appointment' went up in smoke and he found himself back in his rooms with Haldir, a very naked Haldir to be precise. The room was in darkness and all he could see was the flash of Haldir's silvery hair as the moon came out from behind a cloud, and the sparkle in his eyes that outdid the stars.
"What now?" asked Haldir, one hand in Glorfindel's golden tresses and the other caressing his bottom.
Glorfindel began to giggle. "What do you mean 'what now'? Surely all your training has prepared you for battle?"
"Yes and no," replied Haldir, as he continued his attentions.
The truth dawned on the Golden Flower of Gondolin. "You're a virgin," he said, trying hard not to spoil the moment.
"Yes and no," said Haldir, once more. He smiled and Glorfindel was erotically bewitched. In reality, the time he left between trystings was far too long and even a donkey would have stood a fair chance of gaining his favours, let alone a fine elf the likes of Haldir.
"Just do what you do with an elleth," said Glorfindel, foolhardily, and he turned over.
--~*~-- --~*~-- --~*~--
"It will be at least a week," stated Glorfindel, as he lowered himself down gingerly on the cushion.
"For Star's sake," said Celeborn. "Only you would do it with Haldir without the aid of a good unguent. You must know he's legendary for his speed and execution amongst all the elleths around here."
"I do now," recalled Glorfindel, thinking that it had been well worth the effort but it was not something he'd consider more than once in a silvery moon.
"Poor elfling," said Celeborn, stroking Glorfindel's shoulders. "Maybe you'll think twice before considering lovers less, shall we say, experienced as me. But I've set our oh so efficient march-warden another task now. He'll never do it so we shall have the whole week to ourselves."
Glorfindel laid his head back on Celeborn's chest. He enjoyed the comfort greatly and would milk it for all it was worth as Celeborn's fingers moved down to caress his nipples. He knew the guard would be listening with his ear pressed up against the door but as his loyalty was to Celeborn, there'd be no tittle tattle to speak of. "I hope this task is really impossible," he said, trying not to moan too much.
"Oh it is," answered Celeborn. "I sent him out to find a six-footed mouse."
--~*~-- --~*~-- --~*~--
Four days later�
Haldir was perched on the cliff above Orc's Drift. Gandalf had told him it was the best place to find the elusive and shy six-footed mouse. Below him, the ground dropped down to jagged rocks and the march-warden knew it would mean certain death if he lost his footing. The things he did for Lady Galadriel! Still, the rewards were great because once a year, when Celeborn went to visit his osteopath, he warmed his Lady's bed and had great delight between her opulent thighs. She certainly did not scream her head off like Lord Glorfindel, his eardrums were still recovering from the onslaught. No, her sounds were more of a� ooooh Hal, keep going, all night long, ai-karumba! Yes, that was much more encouraging.
He focused his eyes a little way down the cliff where a set of small indentations were sited. They were the entrances to burrows and when the sun was at its zenith, the six-footed mice would come out and bathe in the warmth. Supposedly. That was, even if they existed and he'd certainly never heard of them before but Gandalf seemed certain they did, although he was prone to playing jokes and it was Haldir's experience that you could never be sure of anything the wizard said. It was now baking hot and the sun blazed down the drift. Haldir half expected to be surrounded by Orcs at any moment, all banging their shields and generally trying to look impressive, but nothing happened except that the sun got hotter. He was about to call it a day when a scurrying and scratching noise attracted his attention and out from one of the burrows poked a pink snout. It was followed by the rest of the animal that stretched itself out on the ledge with its six legs in the air and proceeded to sunbathe. This one, a male, was joined by more and more of the little beasts, all with six legs. On the grounds that the females might have young to look after, Haldir decided to capture a male.
The valiant march-warden lowered his fishing line carefully down the cliff. On the end of it was a piece of the vilest gorgonzola ever created on Arda. Gandalf had said that would do the trick and, indeed, it did. Haldir was soon on his way back to Lorien, with a very annoyed and faintly nauseous six-footed mouse trapped in a pewter box that even he couldn't escape from. He spent the entire journey sharpening his teeth and claws so that he could inflict the most horrendous damage on the perpetrator who had taken him away from his harem in the middle of the mating season.
--~*~-- --~*~-- --~*~--
Another four days later�
Glorfindel was waiting in Celeborn's bed. It was their second night together and having got the romantic stuff out of their system, they were now onto more pertinent pursuits. The door banged shut and the Lord of Lorien arrived. He was armed with a bottle of the best and two glasses. Glorfindel looked hopeful.
Celeborn opened the wine and poured it out. He handed a glass to Glorfindel and made the same felicitations that they had for the last week, "Here's to six-footed mice!"
"Yes," said Glorfindel, "May the sun of Arda continue to scorch their tiny feet." They were famous for it in Gondolin. They were also famous for taking off an Elven finger in one snap of the jaws if provoked, but Glorfindel chose to forget that salient point.
"And here's to a good night," said Celeborn, as he slipped off his robe. He stood outlined in the soft candlelight, already erect and magnificent. Glorfindel remembered the first time he'd seen him like that, back in Menegroth, where he'd seemed a part of the glittering walls made manifest. All this time had not altered his feelings for the Elven Lord, despite his marriage to Lady Galadriel, when they'd both tried to deny what they felt. Part of his rebodiment had been due to these feelings of love and attachment for Celeborn which were never buried or burned like the physical body, but were as eternal as the firmament. "Lord of Silver," said Glorfindel, as he pulled down the sheet. Celeborn's lips met his own in a rush of hazy erotica and his hands travelled over the well defined muscles of his arms and chest.
"Stars, but I love you," said Celeborn, hardly able to get enough of the pale gold flesh which was an absolute addiction with him. He'd long ago stopped mistaking lust for love and now sought a fusion of the two which was more satisfying. The persons in his life that he desired this from were his rightful due and if it had been publicly possible for him to bond with the both of them, he would have done. All kings held to convention, that was the way of things, and though Lorien was far away from Valinor such resolute rules stretched out their sticky fingers and tarred everything, even desire. Maybe such rules were inbuilt and it was impossible to remove them from tissue and bone.
Glorfindel's legs encircled his waist until he was open to him, thighs flat against his stomach. Celeborn pressed against him and slid in. It was a simple act of trust that moved his heart every time his lover allowed it. Moved his heart and blew his reason. His fingers closed around Glorfindel's cock, his thumb caressed the pulse at the base of it, so alive and full of energetic force. He opened his eyes and looked at Glorfindel, head thrown back into the pillow, the sinews of his neck straining and soaked with moisture, his mouth open in silent pleasure while the long, golden tresses swirled around the bedclothes and flowed down his shoulders like a moveable feast. That was how he thought of him then, a feast both pleasurable and nourishing.
Glorfindel moved his hips so that Celeborn's thrusts should fall on the most pleasing spot. He could feel his lover's fingers doing artful work, pressing squeezing and caressing. It was an external rhythm that became internal and radiated throughout until he heard screams, only realising later that they had at least partly been his own.
Celeborn lay gasping by Glorfindel's side, his heart racing. He had no thoughts in his mind and satisfaction flooded his body like pleasant waves of summer fortune. His cock lay inert on his thigh, spent and covered in glistening unguent. His first thought was that it might be steaming or perhaps aflame. His second was that Glorfindel was laughing at him and stroking his shoulder. "Did I send you to Valinor?" he asked.
"Maybe the firmament," he breathed, and he smiled as Glorfindel bent over him and they kissed gently.
--~*~-- --~*~-- --~*~--
Haldir tipped the mouse out on the table where it devoured some cheese and drank some water; fortunately it was too famished to think of warfare at that present moment. When it had finished Haldir picked it up by the tail and shoved it unceremoniously back in the pewter box before it had time to react. He'd arrived back at Lorien far too late and once again Celeborn had won. Still, it wouldn't always be like that and he didn't bear his Lord any malice, he was just annoyed that he'd been outwitted. He was sure that Glorfindel had had something to do with that but he'd let him off because of that one night. He'd earned his good favour. Why, he might even give him a present to take back to Imladris. His fingers drummed absentmindedly on the top of the box while the occupant scrabbled furiously inside.
--~*~-- --~*~-- --~*~--
"And did you enjoy your sojourn at Lorien?" asked Master Elrond. He was taking tea with Glorfindel.
"It was� most satisfying, my friend," answered Glorfindel, while Elrond raised an eyebrow. He, for one, did not believe in gossip as such, but knowing Glorfindel anything was possible.
"What's that you have there?" he asked, eyeing a pewter box from which a strange scrabbling was heard. "A present, perhaps?"
"Yes," replied Glorfindel. "From Lady Galadriel's march-warden, one Captain Haldir. He said that under no circumstances should I open it in company, so of course, I am."
Elrond tapped his finger on the box. "Always the rebel," he said. "And yes, Lady Galadriel often talks of Haldir." That was another piece of gossip best ignored. "Well, get it over with then."
Glorfindel pulled a key from his pocket and inserted it into the box. The tumblers rolled, he levered open the lid, and�
� but that is another story with bells on it!
*hugs* hope you enjoyed this one!!
The End