The Song of Our Making by Tilperiel

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Things Best Left Unsaid

Youngsters discovering themselves and the importance of talking instead of making assumptions

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Of the two Lords, Ecthelion was far more likely to be called serious, although those who were closer knew him differently. He had been changed deeply from the young elf who left Valinor on that fateful journey, barely past his majority, or was as the years had been counted then. Loosing almost all of his family had taken the joy from his music and haunted his smiles for a long time. So many pieces he played were tinged with the edge of sorrow and somber were the notes in their early days in Vinyamar.

No-one had questioned the closeness between Glorfindel and Ecthelion at all. Too many people were deep within their own suffering; friends and families were devastated and many who had made it across the ice faded still ere the first few years had passed in Arda. Finding comfort as best they might, they were not the only ones who found themselves in positions of responsibility, in spite of their relative youth, and it was therefore seen as natural that they should come together to aid one another in the building back up of their respective houses, now that they were their Lords, not heirs.

The two had been thrown together from an early age in Tirion, as many of them had been. Born within a few years of one another and along with their peers, it was common to have spied a band of noisy little lords and ladies running amok about the palace, then further afield when older and allowed to roam freely.

Then, in unfamiliar lands they’d only heard tales of, Glorfindel held the house of the Golden Flower as his father had in Tirion and Ecthelion the Fountain. Quickly they gained respect as Lords in their own rights and gathered many to them who had not before belonged to any house. They worked tirelessly and held reputations as being just and fair to all.

They were both natural leaders; whether from birth or from upbringing it was difficult to say, but never the less it meant that as war came upon the host right from their first days, they played their parts in victory upon the battlefield. Each had been trained from an early age in such disciplines as use of the sword and horsemanship, mostly for ceremony and tournament. It was strange to them now, to have need of such things against real enemies, but the blood of the Noldor ran hot through all the host and they did not shy from defending themselves and asailing them as they attacked. They learned fast and it was well they did, for great was the number of foes from the North and they needed captains who could keep level heads and bring back their men to fight another day. Captains who knew that retreat was not cowardice.

In the beginning of the new age, as Fingolfin was establishing his kingdom, there was much grief amongst the exiled and as such there were more than a few who wed without ceremony at that time. Blind eyes were turned, as the customs that had been long held as necessary and proper were cast aside and things such as betrothal periods and proper asking of hands from parents were ignored. Such things as kept society together, the laws and traditions that were so important in times of peace and well order, were of less import as that of finding happiness and holding onto loved ones when all the world had shifted under your feet and nothing was now certain. When those who had thought themselves eternal, felt death and loss. The joining of souls through union helped to hold many in the world who may have heeded the calling of Lord Namo if they had not had anchor to hold them back.

It was in this way that Aranwë, younger brother to Glorfindel, had wed Ilmarien. A year later they welcomed their son, Voronwë, who’s birth had helped to bring some light back to his grandmother, the Lady Lalwen’s eyes. Glorfindel had looked upon the child and was greatly taken with him too, but his heart had sorely hurt, for he had by then realised that his fate lay elsewhere and he would not beget children of his own.

“You do not know that Laurefindil! You’re young and there’s no reason you should not wed!”

Ecthelion had found him in his chambers, offering to look for him when all were still celebrating his brother’s good fortune. He’d known he would be missed; for Voronwë was the first born since their flight and he represented hope for the Noldor in their exile and all were finding happiness in his safe arrival. Glorfindel had been weeping softly, silently and Ecthelion had sat down beside him and held him carefully and with reverence when he made his quiet confession.

“I do know that,” he’d countered sadly, but would not look up to meet Ecthelion’s eyes. He feared greatly that if he did not stay his tongue that he would loose his closest friend and his life would be so much poorer for it.

“Have you had visions of this from Lord Lórien? For often have I dreamed of strange things and I don’t believe that they can all be true. They are but dreams, my friend.” A memory of flame and shadow and a lack of breath flickered across his mind; something he’d thought on more than once and he blinked to clear his head.

“Nay, not dreams. It’s what is in my heart, but don’t worry about me. I’ve accepted it for what it is and this shall pass.” Glorfindel took in a fortifying breath and looked up with wet lashes, apologetic and feeling shameful.

Caught in a moment, Ecthelion looked upon his friend and felt his own heart clench at the sight of someone so generous of spirit and beloved in such obvious pain. He wanted nothing more than to take it away, to reassure Glorfindel that he was wrong, but he found that he could not.

“I-“ He paused and swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and when he spoke his voice was low and touched by sadness. “I too do not think I will sire children, but I have known this for much longer than you, I believe.”

He watched as Glorfindel’s eyes widened and his expression changed, comprehension dawning only as Ecthelion reached up and gently tucked the hair hanging in his face behind an ear and cupped his cheek.

“Is this why?” Ecthelion asked quietly, holding his gaze. Glorfindel hesitated, fear flicking across his face and he held his breath, closed his eyes against those soft grey ones that saw too much.

“Yes.” The shame in his barely whispered confession was enough to almost break Ecthelion’s heart.

“I am so sorry.” There was nothing more he could say, for it was not a fate he would have chosen for Glorfindel, brave and strong and well-loved amongst all who knew him. It had been many years since he had surrendered his own dreams of finding another to give his love; for his beautiful friend had taken pride of place even before his majority, before the darkening of Aman.

That night, somewhere deep inside, hope kindled twin flames within them, though it was not spoken of. Ecthelion had held Glorfindel whilst he regained his composure then both had returned to the celebration. Although, if their glances towards one another had become warmer and touches had lingered, neither had made any comment.

Over the next few years the Noldor had settled into life in Nevrast and the Sindar who dwelt there had mingled with their people. Friendships had blossomed and families had been joined and all was well between the long-sundered kin. They fought many battles together against the forces of Morgoth, told and untold in their histories and through both happiness and grief their alliance was strengthened. The houses of the Golden Flower and the Fountain and others from Tirion had continued to grow in their followings, as well as that of other houses who had newly appointed Lords from those who had shown courage and leadership.

Glorfindel and Ecthelion’s friendship had only strengthened through them too; seeking one another’s counsel and sharing of resources, or simply quiet evenings spent together, not needing or looking for excuse. There were some who had begun to question, a rumour or two whispered, but nothing came of them and they mostly died away quickly, for truly, there was nothing to tell. For even if each harboured wishes that there could be more between them, neither spoke of it, for such things were not the way of the Noldor. And if those who were closer to them had any confidences or thoughts of their own, they kept them to themselves, or at least only between those who were the closest of their friends and family.

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“How goes it my Lord?” A Sinda by the name of Egalmoth who had settled years past with his house, the Heavenly Arch approached, accompanied by a beautiful lady with hand upon his elbow. Glorfindel smiled widely, for they were good friends.

“Well enough, thank you. I hope all is so in your house too,” he nodded to Egalmoth and turned to his companion, “and it’s wonderful to see you once again my Lady. Greetings.” He bowed his head low and gave a flourish of his arm and she laughed.

“Such formalities!” she said, “Egalmoth! You should have brought me here earlier than now, it is such a pleasant change. And to think that the talk in Menegroth is always of Noldorin pride and arrogance; I’ve yet to see such behaviour.”

“Laurefindil, do forgive my sister,” Egalmoth rolled his eyes. Clearly, he had been indulging her for a while.

“Do not make apology for me,” she said and swatted him on the arm, “if I wanted to seek forgiveness, I would ask for it myself.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. There are plenty with far too much of both traits. I’m glad you’ve found company with those who’ve not exhibited them thus far,” Glorfindel said with a smile, then rose his brows at Egalmoth. “Perhaps I would have expected an apology forthcoming from you though for springing an unexpected partner upon me in front of the entire nobility. Which could have gone horribly wrong, I might add.”

He’d not had chance to collar Egalmoth since the ball held at Yule, when he’d met the Lady Istin, a few weeks before. Egalmoth merely shrugged and waved a hand at his quelling look.

“Apologise for making sure a friend had an enjoyable evening and looking out for my sister at the same time? What an odd request. I rather would have expected your thanks. How is Lord Ehtelë, by the way? I’ve not seen him since, either.”

Glorfindel blinked at him and paused before shaking his head with a light sigh.

“Well, I believe. I’ve been quite busy and so has he so perhaps you might seek him out yourself,” he said. “Come on inside, I’ll have refreshments brought.”

Lady Istin had the long brown hair that was typical of her kin and was tall and slender as a willow and her beauty along with her almost constant smile had her never lacking in company. Although they’d not known one another for long, Glorfindel already knew that they would be fast friends. It was not difficult so see why; for she was quick to laugh and had the spirit of youth still about her, although she was well into adulthood. With a pang he’d realised she was a sharp reminder of how they all had been in years past and still might be now, had their doom not been lain down. Her intelligent sense of wit had them spending the afternoon in laughter and his heart felt lighter than it had in a good while.

Without even realising it he found himself spending much time in her company over the coming months. She had delighted in showing him how to better hunt with a bow, honing his skills in the forests around the city and she in return had found a talent for the use of a sword, which Glorfindel was only too happy to teach.

There was the added bonus that he was free from the weight of any expectation too. He had realised quickly on their first meeting that Egalmoth must have sought to arrange from the outset, although they’d had no such conversation about it. Never once had he felt any pressure from her that she sought more than friendship and for that he was exceedingly grateful, simply laughing off comments alluding to anything else from others. He felt more like his old self in Tirion than he had ever in the years since leaving and many smiled to see him looking so joyful, spreading his good mood amongst them.

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“Ehtelë! Ho! Come join us, why don’t you!”

Glorfindel and Istin had been leaving the stables one morning in early summer, when Ecthelion had met them on the path, headed the other way. Glorfindel had instantly dismounted to greet his friend in warm embrace, as was their want, but found him stiff and unyielding. He stepped back in confusion, arms dropping to his sides.

“Well met Glorfindel,” Ecthelion gave a wan smile, using his Sindarised name deliberately. “Istin.” He nodded in her direction.

“Ehtelë!” Glorfindel was somewhat shocked, “whatever is the matter with you?”

“Nothing at all, my friend. Are you out for a ride?” he glanced over at the Lady Istin very briefly and nodded as if to himself. “I see you have your gear, I hope your hunt is successful. Good day.”

He had already turned on his heel to leave, such that Glorfindel had to jog forwards to place a hand upon his arm as he bade him stop. Ecthelion didn’t shake him off, but he pursed his lips and looked to all intents and purposes like staying was a great effort.

This wasn’t the first time recently that their meetings had been sour, but it was the first time Ecthelion had displayed almost open hostility. Increasingly he’d found that after council meetings, when he’d thought to catch him for a drink afterwards, or sought to call on him in the evening, Ecthelion had had other plans. He had hurried off before he could speak with him, had caught someone to become engrossed in conversation with and not given Glorfindel a way in, or he had been simply informed that the lord was not up for visitors when he’d arrived at his home. He had tried his best to remain ever as cheerful with him when they did have time together, although now it was almost exclusively around friends. He’d told himself that it was better this way, less room for rumors to start up, doing his best to quell the upset that threatened to take him at the turn in their long standing closeness and telling himself that it would pass.

He had the distinct impression that Ecthelion disliked the Lady Istin very much and it hurt, deeply. If that was the cause of the cooling between them, he didn’t wish to have to choose between the two. He just couldn’t fathom the cause though, as he didn’t believe they’d even spent any time together.

“What’s happened? Please, tell me what’s wrong?” Glorfindel spoke low, a beseeching look on his face and Istin had had the courtesy to lead her mount away where they could talk without eavesdropping. Ecthelion glanced her way and Glorfindel turned to her too, watching with a sigh as she stroked the horse’s mane whilst he cropped happily on the sweet spring grass.

“Nothing has happened,” Ecthelion repeated and such was the pain clear in his voice that Glorfindel snapped his gaze back in a second. “Nothing that should not have and truly, I am very happy for you. For you both.”

“You’re happy for us?” he asked slowly, frowning in confusion as he was sure he’d already extended an invitation. “You could join us too, if you wanted? Not just today, but at other times. It would be wonderful if you would and I’m certain Istin would be in agreement. If you just got to know her-“

“Join you?!” Ecthelion barked a humourless laugh, cutting in and looking at him as if appalled at the notion then leaned in to hiss in a low tone, eyes ablaze. “Are you mad? No, I cannot believe you’d even suggest- but no, no I see. You wish for me to play third wheel and I’m not interested-“

Upset turned to surprise quickly and Glorfindel’s eyes widened as he realised Ecthelion’s misunderstanding. He wasn’t ordinarily one to be so slow on the uptake and he felt his face flushing rapidly.

“Oh, but it’s not like that at all! You must realise…but no. You don’t. I can see- I’m sorry…”

He bit his lip and dropped his head, heat flooding his cheeks. How had he not noticed this before? How it all must seem from Ecthelion’s point of view, he would have almost certainly reached the same conclusion the other way around. All at once the previous month’s moods hit him in the face and he could have cheerfully kicked himself.

He reached again for Ecthelion’s arm and this time he did move it away, a shake of his head, the sharpness gone from his tone.

“No Laurë, do not- do not hide this. It’s as things should be. I won’t lie to you, you know me too well. I will be happy for you.” He forced out a smile. “I’m coming to accept it already. Just–“ he swallowed and pain creased his fair features before he could school them back into a careful mask of calm, “give me time and space…”

“Ehtelë, no,” Glorfindel tried again, shaking his own head and a pang of desperation evident in his voice, for Ecthelion was already backing away. “Please, you’ve got it all wrong…”

“Have a good day Laurefindil.”

He turned and Glorfindel was left standing as he walked away, unsure of what had just happened and of whether it could be salvaged. He took in a breath and it hitched in his throat, vision blurring at the edges.

“Go after him, you dolt!” Istin was striding over with a look of utter consternation on her face, whilst Glorfindel dared not blink for fear of shedding a tear.

“I shall never understand you Noldor, honestly!” she huffed, “so full of emotion, but always so formal. If you perhaps spoke more plainly then  there would be less confusion and you could have all saved yourselves a great deal of trouble!”

Glorfindel was quite unprepared for any of this, having left the house cheerful and looking forward to the day, it had completely taken him off guard. His head was spinning with the barrage of emotions he was going through and he was struggling to keep up with the sudden turn of events. Istin rolled her eyes at his inaction, hands on her hips.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” she asked and shooed him away. “I’ll sort the horses, you go and explain yourself. Using your words. Or anything else that might work, in this case.”

He gaped and she had the audacity to laugh. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” she said, “I have eyes and ears and am not ignorant to these things. You apparently are though, not to have noticed my friendship with Elanoriel.”

“You…You are going to explain that statement,” Glorfindel pointed his finger at her and huffed in complete frustration with himself, with Ecthelion and with Istin too, for not having said aught before. “Right after I return.”

“Take your time,” she said with a fond roll of her eyes.

With that he turned and ran after Ecthelion, not knowing what he was going to do but knowing somehow that things were about to change.

“Ehtelë! Wait!”

“Laurefindil, you shouldn’t have followed me, please go back.”

“No.” He caught up with him and stepped in front, stopping him in his path. Ecthelion was weeping. Something he’d not borne witness to since the Ice and he sucked in a breath of shock.

“Oh, Eru damn it!” Glorfindel swore in a low voice, angry at himself and shame coloured his features. Ecthelion’s over-bright eyes widened at his blaspheming and he wiped at his cheeks in haste.

“Ehtelë, I am so sorry. I’m a fool, I didn’t notice…”

“Yes, you’ve said,” he said shortly and folded his arms and held his posture, trying to regain some dignity.

“I’m not with Istin,” Glorfindel said, finally deciding to be plain in speech. “There’s nothing but friendship, I assure you. Besides, she’s just as good as told me a moment ago that she is with another.”

“Then I am sorry for your loss,” Ecthelion said and set his jaw, clearly not understanding still and he made as if to push past. “If you’ll excuse me-“

“I don’t want to be with her! I have no heart to wed Istin! Or any other lady I might have friendship with!” Glorfindel was growing increasingly frustrated with his lack of understanding and his voice rose so as Ecthelion grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him away towards the nearby stables.

“Do you want to be found out? You might wish to lower your tone on the open road!” Ecthelion let him go with a shove and stood glaring in his direction, whilst Glorfindel stumbled a little before regaining his footing.

“Sorry-“ he began and Ecthelion cut him off, clearly not finished now he had decided he was going to talk to him after all.

“And stop apologising! Damn you Laurë! You’ve eschewed my company in favour of hers for months now! Then every instance you did spend time with me, all you’ve talked of is what you’ve been doing together! What did you expect me to think? What do you think everyone thinks! All the gossip is of as to when you will announce the betrothal and how do you think that makes me feel?”

Apparently realising he had said far more than he had intended, Ecthelion ran out of steam, breathing deeply as he calmed himself down, a hand over his mouth and holding himself very still.

“I didn’t think-“

“No, you didn’t.”

“No and I’ve hurt you. I’ve…If I’d thought there was any chance…but you have never said anything. Not since- Well.” Glorfindel felt spots of heat high on his cheeks but he stole himself so as not to shy away and approached Ecthelion carefully, as one would a frightened animal; wanting to comfort but half afraid of being attacked.

Ecthelion lowered his arm and looked sadly at Glorfindel, fresh tears upon his cheek, so unlike the calm and collected person he always presented to the outside world. Glorfindel reached up, intending to wipe them away but Ecthelion moved his head away sharply.

“Don’t. It’s not like there’s another option,” he said, with a bitter note colouring his his words. Glorfindel winced and moved back his hand as if he’d been stung.

“There might be, you don’t know that,” he countered, “I’ve been thinking-“

“You’ve been thinking? Thinking of- What? Exactly?” Ecthelion barked out a harsh laugh, gesturing towards the open stable entrance. “Nay, there’s nothing to think about here, let alone discussing it where anyone could walk in. Just-“

He ran a hand through his hair, upset and agitated, his usually carefully braided locks beginning to loosen and tangle. Glorfindel automatically reached to tidy a strand, so used to being tactile around him and not even thinking, but before he could, Ecthelion caught his wrist.

Ecthelion felt himself crack inside as the fight all but drained away. For so long he’d fought against this; everything all bottled up and pushed down deep, not allowing himself to think upon it lest his carefully controlled emotions might spill over and he be made to feel the pain of them proper. This had been brewing for years, long before Istin had shown up on the scene and today had simply been the final push to tip the balance.

He’d thrown himself into his work. He’d spent hours in training, many more than necessary and he’d come home exhausted and sore and then spent more time still pouring over the drawings and plans he was creating for the new city for Turgon. It had worked, to a point, and he’d thought it would be alright, and he’d thought he was going to get through it, somehow. He would be happy for Glorfindel and he was determined not to make him feel guilty for being able to move past his unnatural leanings, when he himself hadn’t.

Now though, when he realised how badly he’d misread the situation, he was right back to where he’d been previously. With Glorfindel before him, the same person he’d ever been and everything he wanted, still there and reaching for him- what was he to do? He wasn’t strong enough. Not when he was so close, so achingly beautiful and so utterly sad. He wanted nothing more than to make him smile again, even though he knew he should leave, for everyone’s sake.

“Laurë…” Alhough his voice held warning it was weak even to his own ears. He looked into Glorfindel’s overbright eyes, seeing nothing but openness and vulnerability and he could feel his will, which he had thought was of honed-steel, ebbing away now that they were as close as they had ever been to actually naming what was between them.

Glorfindel’s gaze had dropped to his lips, a light blush across his cheeks. Ecthelion wasn’t sure if he even realised he was doing it. It wouldn’t take much; just a few inches of space and he knew that his life would be irrevocably changed. He knew in his heart that once they had made that step, there would be no going back. Not for himself, at least. How could he ever think to take another once he had known the sweetness of being loved by one who already held his heart?

Closing the gap between them Ecthelion surprised himself; his body taking initiative unbidden by its owner, even as his mind had tried to hold him back. As soon as their lips met, he thought of naught else but the swooping in his stomach and the blessed relief and sheer delight that finally, finally, he had what he’d needed for so long. The tension fell away from him in one long sigh.

Glorfindel’s lips were full and soft, not urgent but gentle with him, as if he were precious and might break. He wasn’t so fragile as needing such delicacy, however much a part of him ached at the loveliness. Emotions overtook his senses and he dropped Glorfindel’s wrist to instead bury his fingers into silken hair and pull them together more firmly. Their honed and strong bodies fitting against one another, as with his other hand he sought his waist, delighting at the noise he wrought from him.

As both were inexperienced there was little in the way of grace in this first expression between them and soon a clashing of teeth had them break apart, breathless laughter and shocked expressions as they caught one-another’s eye. Faintly Ecthelion tasted the sweetness of strawberries, for it must have been Glorfindel’s breakfast.

A small part of his mind was already trying to surface above the madness that had overtaken him, but he didn’t want to listen to it, not yet. There would be all the time in the world to agonise over the perils that inevitably awaited them in the future and so he kissed him again, desperate for the moment to last as long as it might. He was fearful that it might be their only time together and that this would all end, as it should, in a permanent parting.

What he didn’t realise, couldn’t conceive, was that Glorfindel’s heart was soaring too and he had little intention of this being the first and only time that they should be as they were. It was true that he had been distraught once he had acknowledged what was between them but he had, over the years that had since passed, come to an acceptance and had quietly made peace with himself.

At last, Ecthelion dropped his head onto Glorfindel’s shoulder and closed his eyes, emotions completely overwhelming him. They said naught for a long moment, hearts returning to their normal rhythm. The horses quietened past their soft whinnying at their appearance within the stables, as the emotionally charged atmosphere that had come with them was now dissipating.

“I’m s-“ he started but Glorfindel cut him off immediately.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said softly and wrapped his arms around him more tightly, as if he might be about to make a run for freedom. “I’m not going to let you apologise for giving me the best experience of my life so far. I’m not going to let you go off and beat yourself over it either.” 

“This isn’t right though, we shouldn’t-“ he protested, even though his heart gave a lurch at Glorfindel’s words.

“Says who?” Glorfindel had quite clearly woken up to the entire situation, for gone was the bumbling elf that had needed to chase Ecthelion down. He had finally realised that he might actually be able to have what he thought had been unattainable and was going to fight to keep it, however much pain and hardship that was inevitably going to bring about.

“Says everybody!” Ecthelion lifted his head to look him in the eye, brows raised high. “You know the Laws as well as I do! And the feelings of our entire people! Clearly they state that union is for the begetting of children and seeing as that is never going to happen-“ 

“That may be true, but it’s not expressly stated as forbidden and there are those who choose not to conceive. Besides, that’s a might presumptuous of you. I didn’t ask for your hand, yet.”

Ecthelion looked at Glorfindel, who offered a small, lopsided smile and reached to brush his thumb over his cheek, still slightly damp, in an intimate gesture which he leaned into. 

“Omission is not the same as acceptance and looking for loopholes in the Laws of the Valar- that’s hardly safe given the precarious position our people already stand in. We will be shunned…” he tried, although the argument felt hollow and he had little heart to remove himself from the path that he was setting out on, the dangers still needed stating. “What if we’re banished? Or worse; what if only one of us is banished?” 

“Let them try,” Glorfindel said confidently, though the thought did send a spark of panic shooting through him, which he quelled lest it took hold.

“You may be the king’s nephew, but I’m far more expendable,” Ecthelion said, “I can see them blaming me for corrupting you. Perhaps they’re right; perhaps I should leave before this comes to light. I can go to Barad Eithel and ask Ñolofinwë to take me into his service.”

Glorfindel’s hand clenched in his shirt at his waist as he spoke of leaving. “And who are they? My mother? Who loves you as her own son? My brother, who likes you more than me most days? Turukáno, who has already asked that you lead the Fountain to follow him to Tumladen and has you designing half the city? Nay Ehtelë, you do yourself and them a disservice; you’re well-loved and very much respected.”

As for his position as the king’s nephew, that troubled him the most, but he was careful not to think upon it now so as it did not colour his words whilst he was trying to retain some hope in their perceived doom.

“I do not think that either of us should be as well-loved once this becomes apparent,” Ecthelion shook his head and lowered his gaze, feeling sorrow for the inevitability of it all. “I would that it could be different, so much so.”

“Then what do you suggest? I do not wish to be separated, but can we still remain as we are? Or stay as only friends? I don’t know that I wish to, not any longer. I’ve already been trying for too many years to push this aside and look at where that’s led. For to follow things to their natural conclusion…” Glorfindel flushed and was glad that Ecthelion was not at that moment looking at him.

“There’s nothing natural about us,” Ecthelion tried and sighed, sagging a little against Glorfindel and sliding his arm more securely around his neck, as his gestures made lie to the arguments he was setting out.

Glorfindel rubbed a hand over his back and pressed a light kiss to his hair. “Does this not feel natural?” Ecthelion looked up and groaned, the last of his resistance leaving as his heart won out over reason. He knew their talks were far from over but for now at least, he knew the direction in which his future lay.

He smiled, gently and nodded once.

A blinding smile split Glorfindel’s face in spite of the brevity of their situation and as predicted, their fate was indeed sealed.