Laurië Lassi – Golden Leaves by Esteliel

Gifts

Hobbits are well known for their gift-giving traditions. Write a story or poem in which the exchange of gifts is featured, or use "gifting" as a theme for a piece of art.

Gifts

“I heard that you, too, were returned to us!” Finrod's face was given even greater beauty by the joy that shone from his eyes, and Glorfindel, who had not seen him for such a long time, simply stood and stared for a moment.

“Finrod...” He embraced him, nearly crushed him until Finrod laughed and begged him to stop, and then Glorfindel was laughing too, and crying when he remembered hearing the news of his death.

“How long since you were...?” He let the sentence trail off, but Finrod knew what he meant, of course – no one who had been through it would be able to forget the experience.

“A long time. Long enough to hear all about your own exploits, Glorfindel the Beloved.” Finrod slid his hands into Glorfindel's hair, pulled him into a kiss.

“I heard you were married?” Glorfindel could not resist the question when they finally parted, and Finrod laughed breathlessly against his lips.

“You know very well that Amarië would not mind. But she might pretend to, when I return...” Finrod's eyes gleamed at the thought, and Glorfindel just barely kept from shaking his head. He did not begrudge Finrod his happiness, of course, and yet, sometimes he wondered what it would be like to find that sort of happiness himself.

“You are leaving again, aren't you?” Finrod asked, sobering, and Glorfindel nodded.

Finrod raised a hand to his hair, gave him another smile. “Always too noble for your own good. But you know that, don't you? Here. This is a gift. Perhaps they won't believe you when you return.”

“Why wouldn't they? Do I look like one of Sauron's creatures?” Despite the glib answer, Glorfindel felt his heart clench when he looked at the ring of heavy gold in Finrod's hand. He took it, traced the familiar design with a finger. The golden flower of his lost house...

“It is not lost. After all, you live.”

Glorfindel embraced him again then, held him tightly for a long time. How could Finrod bear the loss of all the glory they had built? And yet, Finrod seemed happy now. Would he ever know that sort of happiness himself, or would he always feel that pull that once more lead him away from all those he loved?

He looked down at the ring on his finger once they parted. All was ruins... but not all he had loved was lost. There was Idril's grandson. And maybe, somewhere on those shores far to the east, he would find his own happiness, too, this time...