Our Old Shipwrecked Days by Agelast

---

Chapter 2

---

Sílaer accepted the news with a resigned sigh. “Hand me that towel,” she said, which Elrond did. “I suppose you can’t avoid it?”

They were cleaning the demonstration room after a class. Elrond handed it to her and noticed, to his dismay, that there was a spot of blood on his sleeve.

“I can say no, if you want me to,” Elrond said, trying to scrub the spot out. “I know I still have much to learn.”

“No,” she sighed, “well, I mean, yes, you do, of course. But so do we all. Such is the life for the Eldar.”

Noticing Elrond’s slightly crestfallen look, she smiled. “Nevermind, Elrond. I can manage without you, you know. And besides, there are other cares in our profession than the mending of bodies. Perhaps you can take the time to help your friend Glorfindel come to terms with his new life.”

“Do you think he is … troubled?”

It seemed unlikely. Glorfindel was perhaps the most aggressively cheerful person Elrond had ever met. He certainly seemed so the times Elrond had come out, at dawn, to spar with him. And he certainly beamed whenever he found the crack in Elrond’s defenses, and let him have it.

Elrond winced, touching the still-tender spot on his side where Glorfindel’s practice sword had whacked him that morning.

But Sílaer looked thoughtful and nodded. “I think it is likely that he has more to trouble him than he will say.”

“And you think I can get the real story from him?” Elrond said, folding his arms. He tried to give Sílaer his best skeptical look, but she only laughed.

“I think you have your ways of finding out. Now come on. I must find a use for you before you go.”

It was some hours before Elrond was dismissed. Since he was leaving in the morning and had hardly packed, he made his way from the Houses of Healing to his rooms with what could be unseemly haste. In his state of extreme preoccupation, he did not notice that Erestor had been walking beside him until he had almost reached his door.

“Erestor!” Elrond said, feeling a little dismayed. “How good to see you.”

“I wished to see how you were getting on,” Erestor said with a grin. “I hear you will be traveling with us after all.”

“Gil-galad thought it would be for the best,” Elrond said cooly.

“That isn’t what I heard,” Erestor said with considerable relish. “But I, for one, will be happy to have you.”

“Why -- thank you.”

“Yes, one can’t predict the things that may crop up in outings like this. It’s good to have a person of your skills on hand.”

“That is really quite decent of you, Erestor.”

“Of course, you’ll also be able to keep an eye on Glorfindel. Isn’t that so?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Elrond said stiffly.

Before Erestor could reply, Glorfindel got out of his room and came bounding up to them. “Ah, you two! Just the people I wanted to see. Are you excited for tomorrow? I know I am. Come, let us celebrate our setting off -- I have some wine in my room.”

“No,” Elrond said firmly, and opened his door. Then, softening, he said, “I think I should get some sleep.”

“Ah, yes,” Glorfindel said, looking a little misty-eyed, “soon featherbeds will be a thing of the past. The stars await.”

“As do the rocks. It is not something I would romanticize, my lord,” Erestor said.

Glorfindel turned the full force of his smile towards him. “Erestor, you are a jewel! And right, of course. Sometimes I do get carried away. But I assure you that, after a long while of going without, sleeping under the stars, even on stony ground, is a glorious thing.”

Erestor smiled rather fixedly as Glorfindel bid them both good night and went back to his rooms. Under his breath, though Elrond could hear him, he said, “Mandos take me, but I swear that man is having us on.”

“Having you on, perhaps,” Elrond said, and ducked quickly into his room before Erestor could reply.

*

The first leg the journey passed pleasantly enough. Círdan knew of their mission before any of them needed to open their mouths. He greeted Glorfindel as a old friend -- though they had never met before -- and Glorfindel embraced him just as joyously. Elrond came away with many entertaining and potential useful stories of Gil-galad’s childhood.

Next, they headed to Eregion, riding along in a leisurely pace, with nothing much burdening them except for a pack of letters entrusted to Erestor. Elrond enjoyed watch the landscape change from town to country and then into woodlands as far as the eye could see.

Glorfindel, predictably, made for a fine traveling companion -- lively and energetic when it was time for it, and meditative and quiet in other times. He rode ahead, though of all them, it was Erestor who knew the way.

Elrond had not had much opportunity to travel until now, and indeed, he had little enough desire to do so. He had his studies in Lindon, and for the time that his brother had lived, Elrond wished to have the fastest means of communication with him and his family.

As time passed, the communications grew fewer and fewer, until the day that Elrond received a letter from Vardamir that told him that his brother was dead. It seemed incomprehensible that Elrond, who still felt as awkward as a youth at times, should have been born from the same womb as Elros, who was already fading into legend.

Thinking of Elros made his heart ache, as always, so Elrond resolved not to do it any longer, and paid more attention to the conversation Glorfindel and Erestor were having.

“... But I want to know the real story -- were you truly doomed by your hair?” Erestor was saying, presumptuous as ever.

Elrond opened his mouth to rebuke him, before closing it again. He was curious too, after all.

Glorfindel rode on, relaxed in his seat. After a long while, he said, “I’m thinking of keeping my hair short this time around.”

“Oh no!” Elrond said aloud and blushed when both turned to look at him. “I mean, of course, it is your choice.”

“I think it would be interesting to see,” Erestor said. “And of course, you’d have many imitators.”

“Apparently there’s already a line of people pestering the apothecary for hair-bleaching solutions,” Elrond said. He knew this because the said apothecary had nearly talked his ear off the other day about this exact thing.

Glorfindel frowned. “It is odd. When I was younger, I would have given up almost anything to have normal black hair like the two of you -- like my mother had. But there’s no accounting for taste, is there?”

“As for myself, I have never wished to be anything other than what I am,” Erestor said and Elrond rolled his eyes.

“What about you, Elrond?” Erestor said, apparently catching him in the act. “Is there something that you would choose to change about yourself?” They both looked at him. Glorfindel, curious, Erestor, slightly gleeful.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Elrond said.

“It is an easy choice, to be sure.”

“A choice…? What choice?” Glorfindel said, looking confused.

Elrond sighed. “I told you that I had brother, didn’t I? Well, he was as I am -- as our family was. You remember Eärendil, surely?”

“Of course.”

“Well, at the end of the war, Elros and I were given a choice. Or, rather, we were told that a choice must be made. The Valar, in their wisdom and gratitude let my brother and I decide whether we should be mortal men or Elves. I chose the Elves, my brother chose mortality. He is dead now, as are his children.”

A long silence descended among them, interrupted only by the sound of horses’ hooves. Finally, Glorfindel said, “I remember Tuor, and his father and uncle well. They were good Men, and braver, I think, than many Elves. It takes courage to sacrifice your life, knowing you have only one. I see no shame in being counted among them.”

“I know it,” Elrond said in a low voice.

“But I also do not see any wrong in your choice, Elrond,” Glorfindel said. “Perhaps after many long years, you will see the wisdom in your choice as well.”

“Is that a prophecy?” Erestor said quickly, before subsiding under the weight of Elrond’s glare.

*

Next was Eregion and Celebrimbor, who asked for measurements for Elrond’s head.

“I meant to ask for it ages ago,” he explained, frowning. He looked very much like Maglor, Elrond was surprised to find. They had the same angular kind of face and bird’s nest kind of hair. But in particular, they shared the same distracted look, of thinking very furiously, of matters far beyond their listener’s ken.

“May I ask why?” Elrond asked.

“For a circlet, of course,” Celebrimbor said, as if it was obvious. “You needn’t worry about your temples.”

“Er, about my mission,” Glorfindel began to say.

“Oh, never mind about that,” Celebrimbor said with an airy wave of his hand. He was holding a half-finished knife with the hand and Erestor, who was standing the closest to him, jumped back.

Celebrimbor continued, saying, “I think it is very good of the Valar to take an interest in Middle-earth. Better late than never, eh?”

“Certainly,” Elrond said. “Should I do anything in particular…?”

“Oh, no, stay there. Don’t move a muscle.”

*

Galadriel hadn’t been present when they were in Ost-in-Edhil, but she came to Elrond in a dream as soon as they had crossed the mountains. Thankfully, it was not one of Elrond’s more embarrassing dreams -- lately, those tended to feature Glorfindel, naked, more often than not.

But now Elrond felt her delicate touch on the edge of his consciousness, familiar and yet not, Elrond was able to let Galadriel in.

“I am many miles deep under a mountain, and likely to be here for a few more months,” she said, and indeed, she was dressed as one would be for mining, in leather overalls and protective jacket. Her remarkable hair was caught in a jeweled hair-net, studded with pearls. It was the most casual Elrond had ever seen her, but then again, he had never talked to her in a dream before.

“Forgive me, Lady Galadriel -- it is an honor,” Elrond said, and bowed. He raised his head when he felt drops of water fall hit his face. “Is it raining?”

“Concentrate,” she murmured and he did. The rain disappeared. Instead, they were sitting in a little room, quite warm and cozy, with a fire blazing in the corner. Between them stood a small table with a tea-service on it.

“Tea?” Galadriel asked, gesturing to the delicate porcelain teapot, a cup already in her other hand.

“No, thank you,” Elrond said. He wasn’t sure what the properties of dream-tea would even be.

“Your loss,” she said, pouring out a cup for herself and taking a small sip. She smiled. Elrond tried to keep still, but it was difficult even though he knew that it wasn’t really his body that wanted to move. As Galadriel finished her tea, she looked up and gave him a piercing look.

“The Valar did not send Glorfindel.”

“What?” Elrond said, springing up, and upsetting the little table. There was a loud and final crunch and Galadriel sighed deeply. Within a blink of an eye, the table was gone and so was the room. They stood in a light-colored space that was otherwise undefined.

“Ask him,” Galadriel said.

“I will,” Elrond said, breathing heavily. He felt untethered for a moment before Galadriel touched his face gently.

She smiled -- and gave proof to the claim that she was the fairest of the Noldor. “I did have some doubts,” she said, “but I think we will be able to work together.”

“Thank you,” Elrond said, and on impulse, he kissed her hand.

“Tsh!” she said, still smiling, and Elrond awoke with a splash of water across his face.

He blinked and saw that it was still raining. They had sheltered the night under a large and leafy oak tree, wary of making fires. Erestor was already up, sitting on a large root. He was very still, so much so that Elrond thought he might have been mistaken when Erestor blinked. “Bad night’s sleep?”

Elrond shook his head. “Where’s Glorfindel?”

“Said that he had to relieve himself an hour ago. I heard no noise, so I don’t think he’s been eaten by a bear or attacked by ornery Silvans, but I may be wrong.”

“Thank you,” Elrond said, getting up. Before went, however, he turned back to Erestor and said, “I mean it -- thank you. I know I haven’t been the most gracious person --”

Erestor waved him away. “You are too earnest for your own good. No, don’t continue. It’s all right.”

“It isn’t really, but we will have to work on that --”

“Mm. Bring back Glorfindel, will you?”

Elrond nodded, and was off.

He walked without an any strong idea of where he should go. The rain seemed to lessen as he walked until at last, it stopped entirely when he came to a small valley filled with oaks and maples. Somewhere, quite close, a creekbed laughed and muttered, enlivened by the rains. He found Glorfindel tucked up quite comfortably in a nook of tree, listening.

Glorfindel caught sight of him at the same time as he did, and waved. Elrond came to the root of the tree and watched as he slid down smoothly and landed with a small thump on the ground. Whatever joke Glorfindel was planning to say died in the light of Elrond’s serious look.

Ruefully, Glorfindel said, “So you know now that I am a wicked fraud.”

“Who are you?” Elrond said. “I cannot believe that you -- what did you do?”

“I am who I said I am,” Glorfindel said, passion coloring his face. “Please, believe me in this, at least. The rest, I will tell you.”

“You will tell me now,” Elrond said, folding his arms around his body. He shivered, feeling suddenly the chill of the night. The sky was grey and lowering, though he knew dawn was not far away.

Glorfindel sat, careless of the wet ground. Elrond sat down next to him, a little more reluctantly.

Glorfindel began to speak. “I cannot wholly remember the time before I was dead. To be sure, my memories are clear, perfect, but they feel as if they belong to someone else. I remember my father, I remember my mother, my sisters, my friends, but I cannot remember how I felt about them. They released me from Mandos too soon, I think. That damned legend had come even to the hither shore and I suppose the Valar felt… if they feel… that it would be good if someone like me was out, to show how forgiving they could be.”

“Glorfindel, I am --”

“Let me tell it! Please. Eventually, I met an old friend of mine, who was likewise, meant to set a good example. We decided for ourselves that we could not live in idle safety while all struggled in Middle-earth. He was of the Teleri as well the Noldor, and had some knowledge of ship-building. Together we built a ship, in secret, and hoped to set sail before anyone could stop up.”

Glorfindel paused, and said dryly, “In retrospect, I do not know why we expected this plan to work.”

“What happened?”

 

“We were discovered and summoned to a tribunal before the Valar. Others told us that they were not unsympathetic to our cause, and in fact, if we had gone, perhaps all would have been for the best. Perhaps I would have had my friend here with me now. But Eru knows how long such a decision would take. On the eve of the tribunal, we decided not to risk it. One of us would go to Máhanaxar and the other would set sail. We flipped a coin -- I lost.”

“Your friend -- he was Ecthelion, wasn’t he?”

“Your recollection of these old stories is excellent, Elrond. My compliments.”

“Oh, shut up. It seems -- you should not have --”

“I thought I must. What happened before cannot happen again, Elrond. I will not let it.”

“How did you survive?”

“Well, my ship had provisions for two, and while I was afraid that the currents would not lead me past Tol Eressëa, they did. No one could have been more astonished than I when I was hailed by a Númenórean ship.”

“Do you think that you had … help?”

“I prayed to Ulmo every day. It did not harm me, at least.”

“Glorfindel…”

“Will you report this discovery to Gil-galad? Or whoever is the highest authority here? I will not mind, you must do as your heart tells you.”

“She already knows it,” Elrond said distractedly, and looked up to see Glorfindel’s raised eyebrow. “Galadriel came to me in a dream…”

Both of Glorfindel’s eyebrows rose.

“Nevermind! But how did you expect to get away with it? Did you think we were all fools to accept you as this -- perfect messenger -- who, by the way, should have worked a little harder on their blessed message before they landed -- because let me tell you, the only person who didn’t doubt you at all was… me.”

Sadly, Elrond finished by saying, “I should have realized by now that I am too old to idolize anyone.”

Glorfindel did not quite wince, but it was a close thing.

Half-apologetically, Elrond said, “I am sorry -- you deserve better than that. I think you are … I think you were right to come and you have changed things simply by being here.”

Glorfindel said, softly, “I want to help you.”

Elrond felt his cheek heat up, and he said, his voice slightly choked, “Me? Why? I’m completely unworthy.”

“You don’t believe that,” Glorfindel said, and softly kissed him. Elrond clutched convulsively at Glorfindel’s collar, before he reluctantly pushed himself away.

“Are you trying to seduce me in order to keep me quiet?” he hissed.

“No,” Glorfindel said. “I’m sorry if it was a little sudden -- ”

“Well, you shouldn’t, I don’t need such encouragement,” Elrond said and then he took Glorfindel’s face in his hands and kissed him soundly. Glorfindel kissed him back, running his hands down Elrond’s cheek.

When they separated, Elrond was panting slightly. He opened his mouth to speak when an arrow whizzed by his face, nicking slight his cheek. He and Glorfindel separated quickly and got out their weapons. Mist threaded through the trees and there was not a breath of wind or any noise around.

Elrond wrenched out the arrow from the tree and showed it to Glorfindel. It was not an Orcish kind. Mocking laughter rang out throughout the woods. “Oi, Noldor scum! You came into the wrong forest!”

“Prepare to die, kinslayers!”

And somewhat more quietly, the first voice said, “Or you know, just get roughed up -- a lot!”

The first voice said, “Damn it, Amroth, that’s not how it goes --”

“Come out here then, and fight!” Glorfindel bellowed, brandishing his sword.

There was the sound of a scuffle and a sharp yelp, and then the unmistakable twang of a broken bowstring. Three figures stumbled out of the mist -- two youths and Erestor. One of them -- a fair-haired fellow who could not have been more than forty -- reached for his belt, but Erestor made a displeased noise, and his hand felt slack to his side. He glared at them all, but most of his ire seemed rest on his dark-haired companion.

“Good news,” Erestor drawled, “while you two lost yourselves in the woods, I single-handedly averted an international incident. You may thank me later.”

“My father doesn’t believe in diplomacy,” said the fair-haired youth, with an offended sniff.

“Perhaps he believes in the Valar,” Elrond said, a little testily, “for you were about to kill their messenger in cold blood.”

“Nimrodel says,” said the dark-haired youth, looking a little uncertain, “that the Valar have never cared for these shores, and they and their gross favoritism of the Noldor have nothing to do with us.”

“Uh, she never talks to you, Amroth.”

“If you must know, she is extremely gifted in mind-speech. You’re only jealous that she never speaks to you.”

“Liar!’

“Ahem,” Glorfindel said. “Erestor, could you do the introductions?”

“Certainly,” Erestor said. “Your majesties, this is Glorfindel, the aforementioned messenger of the Valar, and Elrond, son of Eärendil and close kin to the High King of the Noldor --”

“Do the Noldor even need a high king?” said the fair-haired youth.

“And this is Thranduil,” Erestor said, glaring at him, “the son of Oropher, King of Greenwood.”

“Greenwood the Great,” said Thranduil.

“And Amroth, the son of Amdír, the King of Lórien.”

Amroth bowed hastily, still looking a little worried.

As soon as they all had exchanged as many greetings and salutations as any of them could muster, Amroth spoke up. “I am sorry for -- all that. I hope you will not say no to having dinner with us?”

“I suppose my father would want to know what the Valar are saying now,” Thranduil said. “But I did aim that arrow so as not to hit either of you.”

“How very kind of you,” Glorfindel said.

“I’m glad you think so,” Thranduil replied.

As they were all walking back to their campsite -- more grey-cloaked Sindar appearing with every step they took -- Glorfindel pulled on Elrond’s sleeves. In a quiet undertone, he said, “Are we all right?”

“Yes,” Elrond said, and then, “I don’t know what came over me. I hope we can still be friends.”

Glorfindel gave him a dazzling smile. He said, “You cannot imagine how many great friendships I have had, that started this exact way. Perhaps we can do it again.”

“Right,” Elrond said and they walked on.