Some Futile Hope by Luxa

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Part One: Chapter Six

Glorfindel learns a great deal from his King. More, indeed, than Gil-galad ever thought he would.

Second Age, November 23rd, 1685. 11:20 P.M.

Glorfindel expected there to be a long, awkward silence, ending with Gil-galad exploding with righteous anger or kicking him out of the court and their friendship. He did not expect Gil-galad to turn to him and say, still smiling, "Is that so? I thought that might be the case."

Glorfindel opened his mouth but nothing came out. When he could finally speak, he managed, "B-But...I just...aren't you...?"

Gil-galad's smile turned understanding. "Did you think we let you into our closet confidences after so short of a time based solely on your defeat of the Balrog, Golden Flower? I assure you, we did not. Elrond spent many hours combing Turgon's letters in the archives, along with any and all reports of the Gondolindrim for mention of you."

"Really?" he replied, surprised. "I had no idea."

"It was only to confirm our trust in you; Elrond foresaw your arrival, and he knew you would need to be trusted and kept close if his vision was correct."

"And was it?"

Gil-galad, who had just slurped a large amount of wine, dribbled wine down his chin as he laughed and said, "Do you think you'd be dining here if it wasn't?"

Glorfindel was silent for a long moment. "But...what does my trustworthiness have to do with my feelings for Elrond?"

Gil-galad completely dropped his lightheartedness; Glorfindel had never seen him this serious, not even in war council. "Everything. I trust you not to act on your feelings for him; I trust that you will find in yourself a way to move on. Elrond had suffered more than you know, Glorfindel. I will tell you, if only to help you understand what drew us together and why he is how he is."

Gil-galad paused, taking time to sit back against the oak tree's wide trunk, before he continued. Glorfindel could tell that the King was choosing his words carefully.

"Elrond came to the Isle of Balar nearly thirty years into the War of Wrath; the Fëanorians brought the twins to us when it became clear that Beleriand was sinking and they worried the roads would soon become too perilous. Maglor and Maedhros disappeared after that, and no one heard from them until they stole the Silmarils. However, there are reports of two unnamed heroes performing great deeds of valor on the battlefield, and there is good reason to believe they spent the last twelve years of the war fighting. Elrond and I certainly believe it," said Gil-galad, pausing to finally wipe the wine off his chin. "During this time, people were too concerned with the war to care much about Elrond and Elros, whatever their lineage may be...after the war, once Lindon had been established, was a different matter.

"When things finally settled down, Elrond was only around seventy years old. Not an adult by our people, but Half-elves grow at a different rate, and he and his brother were quite mature. I myself was only around one hundred and twenty, a fact that is not commonly known; citizens of this nation do not like to think of their leader as little more than a child when he founded it. I was scared, scared I would commit the same mistake as my predecessors, who, as a rule, did not end well. I did not have time for the concerns of Half-elves with little importance to the realm. While I struggled to govern, Elrond suffered greatly."

Gil-galad sighed and closed his eyes, letting old memories resurface before continuing, "Elros was different than Elrond. They were identical in face but completely different in manner. Elros was brash and loud and honest with everyone, and his looks were dominated by his personality, which everyone knew not to trifle with. While he was there, Elrond had nothing to fear. But when he left, things went bad for Elrond.

"Elrond is gorgeous, Glorfindel, I am sure that you've noticed it. He is stunningly beautiful, even by the standards of our people, and it comes in no small part because he is descended from Lúthien. He is, in many ways, her male form...and it was even more apparent when he was young. Lush, that's how I heard him described in the early Lindon court days. Lush and ripe for the picking."

Gil-galad's face darkened so much that Glorfindel knew that whatever came next was not going to be pleasant.

Unmarried Elves often spent centuries of their adult life unmarried, especially in times of war, when marriage was forbidden. No matter how one tried to suppress them, no member of the Eldar could hide their urges and needs forever, and so a delicate system had arisen. Male Elves often spent their years before marriage engaged in any number of sordid affairs with each other before settling down to marriage, which, for most Elves, was the eventual goal. Glorfindel was fairly certain female Elves did the same, although, being as discreet as they were, he could never be sure.   

Some Elves naturally preferred one gender over the other and bonded accordingly, and while they were not often talked about, they usually coexisted with their conventionally married neighbors in peace. Glorfindel found it difficult to identify either way, as he had been attracted to both genders in the past, and had long since decided to take long as it came.

Gil-galad calmed himself and continued. "The Elrond you know is quite capable of dealing with his own problems; he is collected, witty, and likable. He balances his scholarly interests with his work and is quite efficient at it. The Elrond of the early Second Age was a different person. He was quiet, partly because his brother had so overshadowed him, partly because he was in an environment drastically different form where he'd been raised, where the people he'd been raised by were considered traitors, and partly because, in the end, Elrond is a quiet person. He was very shy, and was more in love with literature than an Elf I have or probably ever will meet. He spent hours and hours in the library and rarely attended public functions, actions that were seen as aloof by the public. He began to find himself hounded by suitors while being treated with disrespect for his age. Many claimed he did not deserve the status of adulthood, and many of these Elves were the very same who dogged his steps.

"At first, most had noble intentions, only wanting to see for themselves the beautiful young son of Eärendil. But, the longer Elrond went without returning anyone's affection, the worse they got. It...pains...me to admit I did not heed his pleas at first, for I was absorbed in the building of Lindon and getting it running smoothly. It was no excuse to leave him to fend for himself like that, without a friend in sight.

"Elrond began to wake up in the morning to find the outside of his rooms vandalized. He would be working in the library when an ink pot would spill itself all over his robes, or even worse, his work. His meals stopped appearing, and, being so shy he feared to go to the kitchens, he often went without. He became afraid to walk in public for fear of being accosted. There is record of more than one time in the palace when an Elf who had been rejected cornered Elrond and said cruel and hurtful things to him."

Gil-galad drew in a shuddering breath, and Glorfindel felt sickened and honored, honored that Gil-galad would tell him this when it so obviously pained him.

"Then it went to the next level. There was a festival of some sorts, I can hardly remember what it was about, and many of us got roaring drunk. Most of us, as you are undoubtedly aware, merely get reckless and sing louder when we are drunk," said Gil-galad, allowing himself a small smile before his face fell into misery again. "Of course, there are a select few who brood and turn into darkness when they drink, and most Elves who do this know to avoid alcohol. If the Elf in question had known to do this, things may have happened quite differently that night. As it happened, Elrond decided to turn in early from the banquet, for he has never enjoyed large crowds, and was walking down the corridors when he found himself accosted by an incredibly drunk Elf, who, considering himself spurned by Elrond, took it upon himself to teach the little shit a lesson."

Gil-galad  threw his wine glass across the garden, where it hit a tree and shattered into a million pieces, splattering wine all over the trunk. He grabbed the wine bottle, unscrewed the lid with his teeth, guzzled it, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards.

"He tried to force himself upon Elrond. His intention, even while inebriated, was never to rape Elrond, for that would be as good as death to him, half or no. He thought he could show Elrond what he was missing, so he forced Elrond to kiss him while he held him against the wall, his filthy drunken hands pawing at him, touching him, Elrond struggling all the while, until..."

Gil-galad's voice broke. Glorfindel looked away until the High King regained his composure and continued. "...until Elrond managed to break free, badly ripping his robes in the process. He fled to the library, the one place he knew comfort, and hid there.

"I found him. I had stayed up too late the night before and had a headache, so I decided to seek some quiet in the library. I found Elrond hiding in the corner, weeping, trying to cover himself up because his robes had been torn so badly. I'll admit it, Glorfindel, I have never felt sorrier for anyone than I did for him in that moment. Right then, I forgot about being King. I forgot about my duties. The only thought in my head was telling me to comfort him, to help him. Never before had someone been able to deflect my mind from the thoughts that plague me, worries that I shall fail my country. I fell in love, as surely as Beren fell in love with Lúthien in that glade. I have never fallen out of love."

"What did you do?" asked Glorfindel, speaking for the first time in a long while. "How did you help him?"

"I wrapped him in my cloak and discreetly helped him back to his rooms. I made him a cup of tea and I let him cry and I was there for him, a feat I cannot believe I managed even until this day. I still wonder what would have become of us if that despicable Elf had not done what he did, who, if you are wondering, faced a severe punishment for his actions. In the days after that I was always available if he needed someone to comfort him. I tried to be what he needed, and I never pushed him for anything more. I am proud to say," remarked Gil-galad, his face brightening in an expression of almost unbearable pride. "That I never, ever pressured him to go further, and I did it not knowing the full extent of his trauma, which he only revealed much later. I think this more than anything endeared Elrond to me.

"And...I needed him too. I was a mess. Círdan was the only one I was close to, and he was in the Havens. I needed something- or someone- to distract me from my duties, to give me another reason to get up in the morning, someone for me to love. Elrond was, and is, that for me."

Glorfindel met Gil-galad's eyes and saw wisdom and strength and compassion in them. He didn't know what to say; Gil-galad had just shared something incredibly private with him, and he could never manage to express his gratitude and empathy.

"Glorfindel," said Gil-galad, picking up a roll and smashing it in-between his fingers. "I told you all that so you'd understand us, understand why we love each other so deeply. We need you, Glorfindel. We don't know why yet, but we do. Not only that, but you've become a friend to me, and not one I want to lose because of bitterness."

"No," said Glorfindel hastily. "I would never...I don't...I...I understand. I get it. It's not...it's not deep and unquenchable love that I have, just persistent, Gil-galad. I'll work through it. It's my problem, and I refuse to give up my friendship with you, or for that matter, Elrond, for something as fickle as my heart."

"Do not denounce your heart, Yellow Flower," said Gil-galad. "You will need it before the end."

 

Second Age, January 7th, 1686. 10:57 P.M.

Glorfindel smiled, enjoying the cool breeze of the unseasonably warm weather. It was a festival day, which meant no work, whether military or government, lots of partying and lots of drunk Elves. Glorfindel had decided to take a short break from the party hall (not that he was in any way against partying) to take a walk and clear his mind. While this was a loud and raucous festival, it was, like all Eldar celebrations, easy to slip away for some peace and quiet. 

Gil-galad had, some months ago, insisted that Glorfindel could use the royal gardens whenever he liked. He'd always felt too uncomfortable about that to actually venture there by himself, but he'd had a little to drink and decided, why not?

The royal gardens were spectacular, he thought as he ambled down the stone path. Soaring trees that created a canopy over low bushes teeming with bird life, chirping and chattering away. Out of the corner of his eye, Glorfindel thought he glimpsed a tree with fruit hanging off it. In January? He moved off the path to investigate, losing himself a little in the lush green landscape, trying to find this strange bus. Was it really fruit? Flowers, maybe? A trick of the imagination?

Glorfindel was about to give up and head back when he heard voices and froze.

Glorfindel crept closer to the voices and heard a soft, low laugh that was gut-wrenchingly familiar. He sidled into the shadow of a huge tree and pressed his face against the back, entranced by what he was seeing.

Elrond and Gil-galad were sitting on a bench set far back off the path. It was located directly in front of Glorfindel, and his chest was filled with an unidentifiable feeling as he took the scene in.

Elrond, who had shed his outer robes, was sitting between Gil-galad's legs and leaning against his chest as he read a book, his eyes flicking up to his lover every few seconds while Gil-galad, hair cascading around his shoulders, affection written plainly across his face, was busy unbraiding his love's hair, his calloused fingers fumbling with the small braids. Their clothes were both rumpled and disheveled, but there was no lust or sexual tension between the two as Gil-galad whispered something into Elrond's ear, causing Elrond to smile and lean over to Gil-galad to kiss him, a kiss that was long and slow and chaste and full of emotions that Glorfindel could barely fathom.

Glorfindel silently slipped away and headed back to the path. He looked through the canopy all the way to the stars, smiling as he spotted the Evening Star. It was if something had clicked inside him; his infatuation with Elrond, which had been steadily declining since his conversation with Gil-galad about Elrond's past, felt as though it had been completely turned off. Glorfindel decided to head back to the partying, hopes high, for if there could be love like that in the world, how could Sauron ever win?

 

 

 

Chapter End Notes

When I wrote this, I didn't realize it would be my last chapter for the first part of the story! In hindsight, though, I realized there was nothing else it could be. I hope you like it! :)

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