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Neder-ar-Pae Peth: Dangweth o Glorfindel (Part Nineteen: Glorfindel's Answer)

The elder princes of Greenwood tramped behind their illustrious guests, silent and dour, their demeanour more like gaolers leading prisoners to the dungeons than noble scions of a royal House escorting visiting dignitaries to an audience within the grand fortress. Inarthan's resplendent armour clinked and squeaked where leather stays and ties rubbed against mithril links and over-lapping aurum plates, supplying the intimidating image of the mighty warrior even though he was to the rear of the foreign Elves. His polished, hard-soled boots struck the stone floor with dull regularity, marking out his long-legged gait, sending forth a reverberating tattoo, a solemn rhythm reminiscent of the death-knell drumming of the hangman's procession winding along en route to the gallows. Beside him, Igeredir's feet made no sound in their suede kidskin shoes, but he unconsciously slid his jewelled, ceremonial dirk a few centimetres from its sheath and then re-seated it, over and over. The scraping rasp and clack, rasp and clack providing a fitting counterpoint to his brother's weighty footfalls.

If the noose somehow fails, there is a blade at the ready for beheading instead.

So it seemed to Glorfindel's mind as they walked, the noises recalling an execution he had witnessed in the North Downs once not so long ago. He glanced to Galdor and found the august Lord deep in thought, oblivious to the affect the auditory stimulus was having upon the Balrog Slayer.

And what is he thinking about? How to explain to Elrond and Mithrandir that aid from Mirkwood has been denied because of my wayward thoughts and eyes and tongue? How to make them accept that Legolas will not be joining the Fellowship because the Princes of the Woodland Realm fear for their little brother's virtue in my company and refuse to let him leave? Glorfindel sighed, a sound just slightly less miserable than a groan, abruptly halted in the hallway, and turned to confront the King's elder sons.

"I know what this is about and it is quite unnecessary. I will leave at once if that is what you require, only do not let my shortcomings alter the plans agreed upon thus far," he said boldly.

"Silence!" hissed Inarthan angrily. "We will not discuss such personal matters in the corridor. Continue, please."

Glorfindel found that an odd comment, considering the family's public discussion in Calanhad, but complied nonetheless.

"Where is it you would have us go?" queried Galdor, coming out of his momentary fugue at his comrade's words.

His question caused Inarthan's brows to arch upward while Igeredir made a smirking sort of scoffing sound as he shook his head. Inarthan quirked a wry smile and offered a brief shrug. They had all been marching along, each mired in their particular ruminations, each assuming the others were aware of the destination.

"My quarters?" asked the second prince of the first.

"Nay, your daughter will leave the feast early and seek you out. She undoubtedly guessed, probably before we did, and yet I do not want any interruptions, well-meaning though her intent would be."

"You are probably right. Yours, then." Igeredir made a motion with his hands, instructing the guests to resume their progress, but Galion's remarks stalled them all.

"Perhaps Lord Galdor's rooms would suit better. The study is larger and no doubt the servants have kept the fire roaring." He smiled his complacently patrician smile, giving it first to Igeredir and then to Thranduil's heir.

"No, Galion, I think not," intoned Inarthan in icy tones, eyes narrowed in undisguised displeasure. "I am well aware of the reason you chose those rooms, as is Adar, but in this case such measures are not required. We will gather all the information we need without the assistance of your unseen presence lurking in the hidden chamber beneath the tapestry."

"As you wish," the steward dipped his head, losing neither his smile nor his aristocratic tone. His demeanour did nothing to endear him to Galdor, however, and his prince's remarks inflamed the noble Sadron's fury.

"Spying on me?" Galdor demanded, his face clouded with aggravation. "Good! Fine! I am not disturbed; you are a loyal attendant to your Lord King and that is commendable. I hope you remember the prayers you overheard and recite them sometime; such supplications might benefit your soul." The Lord of the Tree was more than displeased, having believed Galion was genuinely in accord with him where the well-being of Cuthenin was concerned. To know the seneschal had chosen the way of subterfuge and eavesdropping was insulting.

"Nay, Lord Galdor, I did not use the secret chamber to overhear your private speech, either when you were alone or with Glorfindel. We share a common goal and all I have learned from you has been through direct conversation," the butler professed, bowing humbly to the ancient Sadron, his tone stripped of its characteristic, mocking condescension.

"Then why was I given that room? Bah! I do not need to hear your reply; the answer is obvious to all. Enough! Let us continue to your apartment, Inarthan, and talk confidentially of this grave matter," Galdor spared Galion a last glare and set off again at a much brisker pace, his disgruntled pride lending his motion a fluid speed it would have been hard to keep up with had the other Elves not been his equals in long-limbed height.

Glorfindel could not suppress a mirthless chuckle at the seneschal's expense, pleased to see the haughty Elf so chastened and fittingly subdued in the aftermath, ere he followed his friend. No matter that Galion claimed to be Legolas' friend, the Balrog Slayer neither liked nor trusted Thranduil's cunning Sindarin henchman.

Nothing further was said as the five Elves resumed their journey and, with Inarthan giving the necessary direction and the accelerated velocity, reached the eldest prince's rooms before many minutes more had elapsed. At the portal, Thranduil's first-born opened the door and stepped aside to permit his visitors entry, but hastily blocked the opening when Galion made to cross the threshold.

"That will be all, Galion. We do not require anything more this evening. Please feel free to return to the festivities," he uttered this imperious command in the coolly dispassionate tones of princely superiority that welcomed no objections.

Galion attempted to make them anyway. "Your Highness, I am honoured by your gracious offer to forego my duty and enjoy an evening of revelry among my peers, yet I am sure my experience in affairs of the court would prove…"

"Really, Galion, can you not understand a formal dismissal when it is given?" snapped the King's Heir. "Ego! (Be gone!) We will manage without you quite well." He did not wait to see the reaction this belittling banishment would produce, but instead went within and shut the door right in the steward's face. Inarthan found Glorfindel barely holding back his glee over Galion's summary rejection and Galdor still brooding over the affront to his dignity and honour. "My deepest apologies, Lord Galdor; he is loyal to our father but I find Galion insufferable most of the time. I have not heard him speak lies, however, so it is…"

"I have," interjected Igeredir and the Balrog Slayer in unison. It startled them both and they eyed one another with cautious speculation.

"Never mind, Lord Tûovor, he is of no consequence in the larger view of things," Galdor said and waived away his injured pride with gracious, if somewhat stiff, courtesy. A sudden thought made his eyes widen as they scrutinised the finely appointed study with care. "Unless he would stoop so low as to spy on his King's sons also."

"Oh, he is certainly capable of it; I have had ample proofs," scowled Igeredir. "That is the basis for my strong aversion to the Elf. I will not go into details but I caught him in the act of prying into what was for me a most private and personal matter."

"Surely not!" exclaimed Glorfindel, really shocked that such an idea might be plausible.

"Indeed, he snoops and sneaks and pokes into everyone's business: the exalted and the common, the servants and the nobles, even in the stable yard he has his network of information gatherers. When he so wishes, he can be as quietly invisible as air. To the point, I am sure he is poised behind the door right now, ear pressed against the key hole to hear what we are saying about him." To emphasise his point, Inarthan yanked open the heavy wooden barrier and all four Elves peered out in time to catch a glimpse of the steward's flowing robes and auburn hair as he hastily fled around the corner.

"By Elbereth!" Galdor could not help laughing at the mental image of the regal seneschal scurrying for cover like a kitchen insect exposed in its nocturnal scavenging by the light of a candle. "Why has the King kept him in service? How do you live with such a meddlesome yenta?"

"You have heard the old saying: Keep friends close and enemies even closer? Adar ascribes to that doctrine, feeling Galion is equal parts ally and antagonist," answered Igeredir.

"We suffer him with caution and care. I have my quarters inspected for unauthorised delving and stonework regularly. Igeredir does the same. Adar checks his apartment himself, to prevent the staff from realising he distrusts Galion and spreading the rumour," explained the elder prince.

As he spoke, he re-closed the door and led the way to the hearth, which was crackling with cheery warmth, motioning an invitation to sit as he moved on through an interior doorway. From within his voice carried, along with the sounds particular to unfastening the clasps and fittings of war gear. "He has his uses, however, and through him Adar knows everything that is happening in the kingdom: who is plotting with whom, what Houses are seeking to form alliances through marriage, which ones are on the brink of a feud, and so on." He reappeared, sans armour, discalced, garbed in a loose tunic of white and leggings of charcoal grey.

During his brief absence, Thranduil's middle son had procured each guest a glass of wine and now handed one to his brother as well. "That assumes Galion reports everything he learns and relays it only to Adar. I am not so trusting," he added.

They all collected amid the chairs by the fireside and sat in uneasy, silent, and guarded contemplation of one another, sipping the potent vintage.

Igeredir was not willing to wait for Inarthan to begin, however, and leaned toward Glorfindel ominously, pointing the long index finger of his right hand at the re-born warrior's heart. "You have put Cuthenin at risk," he said without preamble. "I will not tolerate any threat to his well-being, no matter how renowned and legendary the source of that danger might be."

"I have no intention of causing Cuthenin harm," objected Glorfindel, holding up his free hand in a gesture of defensive deference. "I want only what is best for him, truly."

"Oh? How can you think to judge what is in his interests? What do you know of our brother?" demanded Igeredir.

"Enough, Tûr," admonished the elder prince. "Let us be frank, for we have not time for these coy games. Lord Galdor, is this the Elf you chose as Legolas' Faer Hebron?" Tûovor addressed the noble Sadron gravely.

A long pause followed, for both foreign Lords were stunned to have this question asked so directly. Inarthan had voiced the query calmly, though not without tension, as the second son looked on, equally attentive and serious yet likewise lacking any display of shock or astonishment. The pair gave the impression that the nature of Cuthenin's latent desires was not a novel subject between them. Galdor and Glorfindel had assumed the princes discerned Glorfindel's interest but neither had suspected the elder brothers knew of Legolas' illicit and unlawful preference for males, for Galion had stated just the opposite mere hours gone past. They shared their confusion in a wary glance.

"Aye." It was Glorfindel who finally answered. He paused as the brothers traded exasperated frowns before continuing. "You know. How long have you suspected that Cuthenin's tastes are like my own?"

"That is irrelevant," snarled Igeredir and then proceeded to respond anyway. "Do you think we are ignorant and backward folk just because we do not live amid the splendour of Noldorin society? Nature is what it is; we have other acquaintances afflicted with this curse. Besides, Legolas is our little brother and we watched him grow up. Why are you so surprised that we should understand him?"

"Because he has no idea that you do," intervened Galdor, hoping to quell the rising wrath he sensed in the middle-born prince. "Is your disapproval of such desires the reason you keep him uninformed?"

"Of course we disapprove," growled Inarthan. "He is doomed either to a life of longing and loneliness or shame and banishment from among his people, severed from his home and family. Would you not wish otherwise for your brother?"

"That does not mean we love him less for it," insisted Igeredir, "nor feel ashamed of him. We had plans to aid Cuthenin."

"Your unexpected intervention has now made this impossible," Inarthan sighed and rubbed his forehead as if it ached.

"What plans?" demanded Glorfindel in edgy apprehension.

"We had hoped to arrange a marriage to a suitable elleth for him, a union in appearance only that he need not consummate. The idea was that we could offer this female sufficient wealth and status to remain silent," explained Igeredir, "and Legolas would not object should she find an acceptable but prudent paramour willing to guard this secret."

"Once this veneer of morally and lawfully acceptable bonded bliss was applied, we hoped to help him find a lover, someone both discreet and caring, a true soul-mate. You two have entirely ruined this ideal," concluded Inarthan, his tones dejected and accusatory.

"Nay, I am Cuthenin's soul-keeper and I mean to be his life-mate. No other will suffice, for him or for me. Who are these Elves you have engaged for this horrific farce?" Glorfindel was on his feet, incensed that the elder brothers would go about plotting such a course while keeping Legolas in the dark, asking him nothing of his own hopes and needs.

"Please be seated, Glorfindel, your indignation is misplaced," urged Galdor calmly as he reached out and tugged on the elegant, borrowed robe from the back, drawing his friend back down. "This scheme has not advanced beyond some surreptitious meetings to produce a tentative list of likely Elves, unless I am mistaken." One look at the brothers' crestfallen features proved his assessment true. "My guess is that it has proved more difficult than you imagined to identify who would be dependable in such a precarious venture."

"That is so," nodded Igeredir. "We have found it impossible to find a female, outside our own kin, we can wholly trust with Legolas' future, and that of our House. There are more than a few Elves who would not be displeased to arrange a shift in power, and with times what they are the silvan people could be easily swayed to rebellion if a flaw of this sort was revealed in the King's bloodlines."

"It has been twice as hard locating a suitable mate for afterward. Most with such inclinations simply leave Greenwood, resettling in Lothlorien where customs are not so strictly enforced. Yet ill-news travels swiftly and these people's kin are subject to shunning and sometimes more serious reprisals here. With Legolas it would be far worse. No one would wish to subject their family to the machinations of court politics by taking Legolas as their mate, openly or otherwise, not even in Lothlorien," commented Igeredir.

"Nor would Legolas want anyone innocent to suffer for his sake," interposed Inarthan.

"We have noticed some who cast covetous leers in our brother's direction, as you did this evening, Lord Glorfindel, but none upon whom we could rely to keep up the ruse we propose. Which brings us back to this night's imprudent display of blatant longing. Valar, anyone with eyes could see what was in your mind! Lust and desire will not sustain the sort of relationship you would face as Cuthenin's mate," concluded Igeredir, once more training his accusing finger upon the Vanya warrior.

"You are not listening," Glorfindel sat forward and pointed right back. "I just told you that I am Faer Hebron. I have held Cuthenin's feä within my body, mingled with my spirit. There is no other who will suffice. I defy you to produce any contender as worthy or as suitable. And had you been watching as carefully as you claim, you would not have missed Legolas' response to my presence."

"Indeed I did not," snorted Inarthan with a brusk discordant laugh. "You made him nervous and ill at ease, ashamed of his reliance on his cousin's comfort. What sort of Faer Hebron accomplishes that?"

"Well, what sort of cousin caresses his kinsman so intimately?" Glorfindel countered, red of face to be called out for his jealous reaction.

"Intimate caress? Is that what your low mind imagines he was doing? Ai Valar, and they call us uncivilised," groaned Igeredir and stood up, impatiently throwing off his elaborate robe as he carried his glass back to the sideboard to refill it. "You have seen the heart spiral tattoo, have you not?" he called over his shoulder irritably.

"Of course I have; it is very beautiful." The Balrog Slayer could not prevent his mind from recalling the night of Úcaul Annaur when he had dared to take a taste of the ripe red hub of that intricately inscribed wheel.

"Then permit me to enlighten you, Lord Glorfindel. It is not there for your sordid admiration and imagination. It is a collection of prayers and protective incantations," noted Inarthan in displeasure before switching his attention to the Lord of the Tree. "Forgive me, Lord Galdor, but this soul-keeper you have chosen seems poorly educated regarding the beliefs of the Elf to whom he claims to be bound."

"There has not been time," answered the Sadron. "Yet now is as good a chance as any we shall have. Glorfindel, to touch the marks upon Legolas' body is to invoke the prayers and blessings contained within them. I can tell you there was nothing more going on than this as Sûlchim traced the design. That being the location of Legolas' deepest wound, his heart, these prayers received the most concentration. It was not sexual in nature."

"Ah." Glorfindel could only mutter sheepishly, transferring his contrite countenance from one to the other: Igeredir, glaring down from his stance beside his brother's chair; Inarthan, mouth contracted into an accusing sneer of contemptuous repugnance; Galdor, one brow quirked high and the other lowered in remonstrance above eyes that were not without compassion. The re-born warrior found he preferred to stare into the dancing flames instead as he pondered his mistake. His forehead creased in confusion, for the memory of Cuthenin's reaction to his bold sampling of the painted skin belied the Guardian's explanation. He returned his eyes to Galdor anew. "Hold, that is not necessarily true. When I traced that spiral, my touch aroused him, even in slumber."

"You did what?" Inarthan bolted from his chair and poised himself to spring.

"Groped him while he slept! You…you…Ai! I do not know a foul enough word!" thundered Igeredir and joined his brother's attack.

Glorfindel realised his mistake but truthfully could not deny the charge, for that was precisely what he had been up to, and thus he jumped to his feet and prepared to meet the brothers onslaught.

"Daro! Sîdh! Daro, Hîren!" (Stop! Peace! Stop, my Lords!) shouted Galdor and had he not been so quick the Princes of the Woodland Realm and the Lord of the Golden Flower would have become entangled in a bloody brawl. The odds for Glorfindel's extrication from such a fight unscathed would have been exceedingly poor, given the ferocity and strength of his dual opponents. As it was, the Sadron got between them and kept the combatants separated, if by nothing more than the length of his extended arms and the bulk of his lanky frame. For a few seconds of grunting, cursing, flailing arms, and straining bodies, it seemed Galdor would be the primary casualty as the brothers sought to get around him to reach their prey and Glorfindel sought to meet them head on with whatever honour he could manage under such an accusation.

"I was there!" panted the noble Noldorin emissary from Mithlond, struggling to shove Inarthan back, for he was standing on the Sadron's foot. "Nothing happened, much, and I punished Glorfindel for taking liberties."

The princes paused and trained their attention on Galdor. Suddenly realising how unseemly their behaviour was, both brothers released their holds on the ancient Elf's hair and clothing, blushing scarlet as apologies were offered. Each sent Glorfindel a cutting glower as they stepped back and resumed their seats, resettling their garments and their dignity into a more respectable demeanour. The Balrog Slayer eased cautiously onto his chair, his eyes never leaving their faces as if he expected them to pounce at any moment. Galdor took a moment to regain his breath, smoothing his mangled braids and frowning over a small tear in the borrowed robe. With a disgusted exclamation he removed it and draped the rumpled garment over the back of the sofa. He did not return to his place by the fire, however, but remained standing between the volatile Elves.

"If you will permit it, I believe I can explain this to everyone's satisfaction," he announced in the clipped tones of a supremely annoyed and out of patience First Age Legend and esteemed Elder. Low decibel, albeit polite, expressions of assent met his ears and he drew a calming breath before continuing. "Everyone in this room understands and accepts that Cuthenin finds other male Elves attractive, correct?" More mumbled confirmations followed this. "And we also know that Glorfindel likewise prefers ellon to elleth. Then is it so very surprising that the two would find one another appealing?"

The pained expressions upon the elder princes' faces signified they found this a difficult concept to comfortably embrace. They traded uneasy glances between each other before sending the Balrog Slayer's form awkwardly assessing appraisals. That they found it nearly impossible to see him from their little brother's perspective, as a source of sexual craving, was evident by the obvious distaste contorting their fair features.

Glorfindel concentrated very hard to keep his visage as blandly inscrutable as possible, hiding his smug satisfaction over the elder brother's discomfort in regarding him thus. He was not so foolish as to ruin Galdor's efforts by flaunting his much extolled masculine beauty and grace.

"Oh come now," admonished Galdor impatiently as the silence stretched into nearly a minute. "How can you expect to help Legolas if you refuse to even try to understand his disposition? Is it really so impossible to see that Glorfindel is an attractive ellon? Would you not concede, at least, that many ellith find such a face and form alluring?"

That registered more clearly, for Inarthan and Igeredir were accustomed to judging themselves and other males against a perceived ideal of virility, ranking each one's relative appeal to ellith. Igeredir cleared his throat. "Yes, we can understand that, Lord Galdor, but Legolas is different."

"Nay, he is not different. Legolas has passed through all the same stages of growth and development that you did and has achieved the fullness of maturity, he is an adult male and his body and mind are male. It is merely what he wants that is different," explained Galdor in more kindly terms, seeing that the brothers had not as yet fully accepted that their much younger sibling was now an adult with an adult's needs. Logically they might perceive this and speak of Cuthenin finding a mate, but emotionally neither of the elder princes were ready to acknowledge this fact. He suspected that they had not thought very deeply on what it might mean to hold desires for like kind either.

The Balrog Slayer could see that the Sadron's words had shocked the princes deeply. He watched as they were suddenly forced to confront the truth; their brother experienced the same carnal hungers that drove them, the same passionate yearning burned in Cuthenin's loins, the same instinct to find and bond with a life-mate governed Legolas' body. Glorfindel watched as the astonishment left their frozen features, melting slowly into sorrow underlain by anger. They had reached the inevitable conclusion: that which was most natural for an Elf to want was denied to Legolas, simply because he sought a male partner.

Inarthan lifted troubled eyes to meet Glorfindel's but when he spoke he addressed Galdor. "You are trying to tell us that when this episode of touch occurred, Legolas was more than willing for Glorfindel to do so; it was what he wished and desired would take place."

"Yes," nodded Galdor sympathetically. "He was neither sleeping nor unaware of Glorfindel's fascination with the tattoo and its specific placement over such a sensitive area. Thus, both received a painful reprimand. I take my responsibility as Tirn'wador seriously, Inarthan, and will not permit Glorfindel to take advantage of Cuthenin, but neither will I deny your brother the chance to explore these new experiences as they arise."

The princes traded chagrinned frowns and then both stood. They bowed in formal reparation to their sibling's Faer Hebron. "Forgive our injudicious attempt at assault. I beg you will make allowances for fraternal love," intoned Inarthan.

"Gladly, gladly," assured Glorfindel, arising and offering his hand to each, smiling as the traditional warrior's grip upon forearms was exchanged. They all sat down again, more relaxed than before, and everyone turned to Galdor expectantly.

"What is to be done?" asked Igeredir. "Legolas cannot openly proclaim his Faer Hebron."

"He has already done so," reminded Galdor with a smile, no longer so displeased with Cuthenin's scheme. "Few here will be able to confirm or deny the claim of Aelluin as soul-keeper and intended mate. If some have remarked Glorfindel's appreciation of his sister's betrothed, that comes as no surprise, for his reputation seems much less exalted here than in other elven domains."

"But to continue the courtship, Legolas will have to leave Greenwood. We would not have this come to pass," argued Inarthan, "and Adar would be devastated. He thinks that Ithil shines solely to bring out the highlights in his youngest child's pale golden hair."

"As surely it does," this rejoinder surprised them all for it was spoken in conjunction with the opening and subsequent closing of the suite's oaken portal as Thranduil strode into the room, catching the end of his son's statement. "What will so bring me to ruin, Tû? I asked you earlier not to speak of dread fates befalling our Cuthenin." The King passed a slow evaluation over Glorfindel as he spoke and went to help himself to wine. Glass in hand, he joined the group and sat down on the sofa next to Galdor.

"I was not, Adar. We are discussing Legolas' future mate," said Inarthan boldly, his mouth set and grim even as his brother grimaced and sent him a warning glare.

Igeredir knew that tone too well. As youngsters, Tûovor's conscience had often gotten the better of him when the two engaged in some mischief, and the eldest son would find he could not keep silent, indicting his younger brother in the process. As far as the princes were aware, their father had no notion of Legolas' preference for males, and Tûrdangannen feared his sibling was about to unburden his soul of the secret they had been keeping for over a century.

Thranduil's brows went up. "His mate? You are conscientious brothers to worry for Legolas, but I am certain his Guardian would not have selected an unsuitable Faer Hebron." The monarch sent Galdor a sharp glance and then let his appraising vision return to Glorfindel, seated across from him. It did not escape the law-father to be that his potential son-in-law shifted in silent anxiety under this intensive scrutiny.

"Aye, so Lord Galdor has just this moment insisted," Igeredir hurriedly replied to forestall Inarthan's revelation. "We were just saying we do not want Legolas to leave Greenwood to pursue this affiliation."

"Oh?" Thranduil frowned at his middle child. "You would keep him here and deny him this chance at happiness? I am surprised by such a selfish response, Tûr."

"Nay! I did not mean it that way," exclaimed Tûr in exasperation, sending his brother a look composed of entreaty and warning in equivalent measure.

Now Galdor was thoroughly enjoying this side-stepping word game on the part of the three royals, for alone in the room he knew that each of them was aware of the Great Secret and all wished either to honour Legolas' trust or to protect his feelings, both in the case of the King. Thranduil had paid a visit to the noble Sadron, after being recalled from his youngest child's side earlier, revealing the successful implementation of the Guardian's advise and offering gratitude for it. With the King's timely arrival, Galdor now suspected Legolas had informed his father of the Faer Hebron's true identity. The ancient Noldorin emissary chuckled and shook his head, sending Glorfindel a gleeful grin as he did so, the meaning of which was lost on the Balrog Slayer.

"What is amusing in this situation?" demanded Inarthan indignantly, finding nothing discussed thus far worthy of laughter.

"Nothing much, just the sight of you three trying so hard to find a way to speak of family matters among family without betraying the one member of the family this concerns," said the Sadron kindly. "Permit me to end this tormented verbal stand-off. Inarthan, Igeredir, your father knows everything you know. Lord Thranduil, your elder sons understand all about Legolas' needs and the Faer Hebron."

"And he sits here un-maimed?" quipped Thranduil, only partly jesting for he knew his sons' tempers were not easy to appease.

"Aye, but it is only due to Lord Galdor's intervention," admitted Igeredir. "Adar, how long have you known?"

"Just since this afternoon, though truthfully I have long felt something was wrong and simply could not face it. And you two?"

"Nearly a century and a half," said Inarthan, relieved he no longer needed to lie to his father about his hopes for Legolas. "You approve of Glorfindel as his mate?"

"That is what I am here to determine," Thranduil stifled his surprise and bitter hurt for the long-term subterfuge perpetrated by his sons, realising he was the cause of it, and turned his gaze upon Glorfindel as he replied. "You will explain yourself to me, Lord Glorfindel of the Golden Flower. Why did you agree to this unusual bond with my child? You do not even know him; he cannot mean anything to you. Do you realise what hope you have injected into his heart and what will become of him should you turn from him now?"

"It is no less than the hope he has infused into my being as well," said Glorfindel. He sought frantically within his mind for the right words, the words that would prevent the King from forbidding his suit and permit Legolas' inclusion in the Quest. Glorfindel found he could not get past the overwhelming fear that he might have to face returning to Imladris without Cuthenin. He shook his head, his hands twisting ineffectually together as he tried to make answer. "I know not what to say to convince you that I will not be false to him or use him cruelly."

"Answer you must!" blurted Igeredir. "We will not permit you to harm him. Have I not already stated this? Better for him to feel pain and sorrow by breaking from you now, better a wound from which he may recover than to lose his heart to you only to have it broken."

"Peace!" Thranduil held up his hand to admonish his second son. "Let him find the means to enlighten us. Threats will not help Legolas' case."

Silence followed this decree as all turned their attention pointedly upon the re-born warrior.

Glorfindel found the father's forbearance more intimidating than Igeredir's challenge, for he realised keenly that Thranduil would not be appeased by trite or commonplace declarations of love and devotion. The King would accept nothing less than exposure of his very soul, and the Balrog Slayer was beyond comprehending how to do so when he had diligently trained himself never to reveal it. Even to myself. I would give anything for Arwen's aid just now. Fileg'lîr was far away, however, and he had none to rely upon but himself. He heaved a disconsolate breath and met Thranduil's guarded stare.

"We are the same, your son and I," he began and flinched as obvious puzzlement and displeasure coloured the King's expression. The Vanya warrior realised that such an equivalent reckoning, given his less than laudable reputation in the Woodland Realm, was not flattering to Cuthenin and tried again. "Our Song, the Music that makes us who we are, this is of the same source and bears the same theme. He is the Melody to my Harmony. Separately, we are ordinary, uninspired, incomplete, dissonant tones plucked at random upon a harp, existing in this place but nothing more. Together we are a thing so rare I know not how to describe it to you properly," he paused and rubbed his temples, trying to think coherently. Glorfindel took another breath and continued, sensing the monarch waiting expectantly for the rest.

"It is like glimpsing the mind of Eru when you look upon Arda in all its glorious complexity. Can you imagine our world lacking the mountain heights or the running rivers? So it is with me and Legolas. There has been something missing in my world all these long years and I have been waiting to discover it. I have dreamed of Legolas yet did not know who he was. He has been part of my comprehension since I have had the capacity to reason, a source of unnamed sorrow and unidentifiable longing for that which is needed yet absent. I cannot turn from him, not ever, for now I know that the part of me that I require to become whole resides within Cuthenin.

"I could tell you he is fair and I am drawn to that beauty; it is no lie. I could laud his fine character and valourous courage, his skill and daring, his genuine heart and trusting soul. These things you know of, even better than I, yet they are secondary to this other, more vital quality that has ensnared me. I have held his soul within mine and in that moment we were the same; it was clear to me and to him. Our union cannot be denied, King Thranduil; it would be the end of us both." Glorfindel stopped talking, fearing more speech would achieve only negative results, and awaited Thranduil's judgement. He felt his explanation was terribly inept and wanting in eloquence, but prayed for it to be acceptable nonetheless.

The quiet of the study was like the portentous solitude of the gathering dawn, a moment filled not with dread but with anticipation, a brief interval of waiting composed of pleasing imagining of the beauty and promise held in the reappearance of Anor. The soundless contemplation bespoke confidence in the dispelling of the shades of night where fears had many darkened corners in which to be concealed, festering and painful to the heart. A fore-gleam of hope, faint and glimmering upon the horizon's edge, drew all attention and interest as everyone pondered Glorfindel's unorthodox declaration. Finally, Thranduil inhaled deeply and spoke.

"You love him," he said simply and smiled, "though how it can be so has you just as confused as it does us. I cannot ask more at this stage, for the truth in your voice will not be gainsaid. Still, you will proceed with caution and follow the proper path. Faras-uin-Ind will be completed and I must insist on being present for any formal and public acknowledgement of this unexpected bond. Galdor, you will see to it that Glorfindel is correctly instructed in this?"

"Indeed, it shall be my pleasure to ensure all goes forward with due propriety, my Lord," Galdor was smiling with joy for such a satisfying outcome and laughed to see Glorfindel's dumbfounded expression. "Have you nothing to say to your future law-father, mellon vrûn?" (old friend) he said as he nudged the Balrog Slayer's shoulder.

"I am gratified by this endorsement, my Lord, more than my stumbling tongue can express," stammered Glorfindel as he rose and bowed to the King. "I will not betray this trust, I swear it by all that is good and holy."

"Well said," approved Inarthan. He stood and leaned forward to lay his hand upon Glorfindel's shoulder in support that was yet heavy with foreboding menace. "We shall of course hold you to it."

"Aye. Let but a whisper of infidelity or betrayal reach our ears and you will find Mandos a more agreeable habitat than Imladris," added Igeredir, not entirely convinced but unwilling to defy his sire's decision. "Which returns us to the discussion of Legolas leaving Greenwood."

"I would not wish him to be severed from his home and family," mourned Glorfindel, "yet I cannot see how I can reside here as Cuthenin's mate without causing strife that would affect the entire realm."

"So he has spoken of this with you," nodded Thranduil, "and thus he hatched this little plot about Aelluin. Is there even such an Elf in existence?"

"There is, though she resides in Aman," insisted Glorfindel. Beside him, the older brothers huffed in good-natured irritation over Legolas' ruse, a clear indication they had been victims of their younger sibling's machinations previously.

"For now I can do nothing to change the Laws that hinder your citizenship," continued the King sadly. "The Shadow grows and the people are frightened. They want stability and surety, as unlikely as such things are to be found in the coming conflict. Internal dissension would weaken us and lend aid to the Dark Lord's cause. Know that it is a rule I will quickly render null and void once the Quest is successful."

"If it is so," groused Inarthan. "I still feel the plan is flawed. How can so few hope to succeed against Sauron's army?"

"It is not so unheard of for a few, or even a single individual, to change the course of fate. I was at the Last Alliance where all our efforts, all our sacrifice in lives, all the strength of the combined armies of the free peoples, availed us naught in the face of Isildur's pride and greed," reminded Thranduil and silenced further condemnation of Elrond's scheme. Everyone became quiet as they thought on the peril the venture enfolded in its undertaking.

"Well, this is a first," announced Igeredir abruptly.

"What?" demanded his brother.

"Galion is the only one who does not know what is going on for a change."

"Hah! Do not count on that," warned Thranduil, laughing. "He has means to find out what is going on way ahead of anyone else."

"Ai! He is intolerable and if he knows he is a threat to Legolas' happiness," complained Inarthan bitterly.

"Nay," surprisingly it was Glorfindel who took up the butler's defence. "He does not plan to harm Cuthenin. If he wished it he could have brought down the House of Oropher long ago, for he has been aware of your brother's inclination since the very beginning."

"Thank you," came a softly muffled answer wafting in arrogant and pretentious tones from some indiscriminate location not too far afield, the unmistakable voice of the worthy steward.

"Galion!" thundered Inarthan, stalking about his study, thumping on the walls, yanking back tapestries, peering behind paintings, and stamping on the ground to test for hollow zones. "Come out at once! I will not tolerate this inexcusable insinuation into my private affairs!" No response greeted his demands, however, and in fuming aggravation the Heir ceased his ranting, scowling at the poorly concealed amusement adorning everyone else's countenances. "Adar, I must insist you make him stop. But give me leave and I will have him doused in the Enchanted River; that will deplete him of all his ill-gotten information."

A disembodied squawk of combined fear and rage drifted through the room accompanied by a muted scurrying sort of sound.

"No, I depend on his vast store of information regarding the various Houses. He is devoted to our family; worry not for your secrets to remain hidden," placated the King. "Now, we have other matters before us to decide. I would not have our three scouts return over the High Pass alone, considering the terrible losses incurred by Legolas' company on the same path just weeks ago.

"Join me, for this discussion must take place in the war room; I have need of my maps as well as my sons' evaluation and recommendations regarding the size and the roster of such a company. Lord Galdor, if you would go and retrieve Legolas from my chambers I would be grateful. Much as I dislike disturbing his rest, his knowledge of the conditions of the road is first-hand and thus vital."

"I shall do so gladly," spoke the Sadron, doubting he would find his charge sleeping in light of the topic recently under discussion.

"Permit me to accompany you," offered Glorfindel and felt the tight compression of Thranduil's grip upon his elbow the next instant.

"Nay, you will come with me, Lord Glorfindel. No need to put your promise of virtuous conduct to the test so soon," he remarked, tugging to ensure the Balrog Slayer stayed beside him as they exited the chamber.

TBC

NOTE: Well Glorfindel tried his best to convince Legolas' family that he is worthy. A tough thing to do when he is only just getting used to the idea of being Faer Hebron. I hope everyone thinks he acquits himself well and that the princes and their father are reasonably assured. Thanks to one and all for your patience and continued support!
Cheers,
Fred
09/02/2006

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