And With Him Was Elrond by elfscribe

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Resisting Temptation

Chapter summary: Elrond gives into impulse, which threatens to upend the status quo.

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A warm band of light crawled across Elrond’s face. He opened one eye, weary beyond remembering and squinted at the morning sun streaming through slats in the shutters of the high eastern window. Next to him, Gil slept peacefully on his back, pressed along Elrond’s side. His chest rose softly with each breath, his thick, silver hair pooled over his bare shoulders. He was beautiful.

Sitting up, Elrond took the opportunity to gaze at him while he slept, admiring the king’s angular face with the long, prominent nose, sharp chin, gently parted lips. He stroked a lock of his vibrant hair that cascaded down his body like a waterfall. That beloved face was so familiar, yet he never tired of looking at him. This morning, unlike the cramped expression of pain he wore yesterday, his expression was untroubled, and his body calm, no longer shaking with ague. Elrond brushed Gil’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. It was a normal temperature. No fever. Bless the Belain! He ghosted a finger across Gil’s lips, which were dry and cracked. He should ask Lisgil for some oil. Now for the most definitive exam.

Throwing back the covers, he bent to look at Gil’s bandaged thigh, probed the skin around it. Also cool to the touch and no longer swollen. Elrond’s shoulders relaxed. I’ve been so frightened, Gil. His glance strayed admiringly over the king’s chest with his defined pectorals, latticed abdominals, and that beautiful curve delineating his loins. He knew well the exercises that went towards building that physique, as he’d often sparred with the king himself. Was there now a slight padding about his waist? Perhaps he should warn him about his penchant for sweet cakes. He smiled. But then Gil would argue with him and insist they go riding together to work it off. Continuing his exploration, he traced down the line delineating the king’s chest, across his navel, to the top of the loincloth, where his glance fell on that lovely bulge between his legs. He’d seen his quiescent cock many times in the palace baths, but now he appeared partially erect. A good reaction after his illness. It was tempting . . . just to make sure all was well. After all, the boar’s tusks had come perilously close. His hand hovered, descended, cupped.

The king’s breathing caught and Elrond glanced up into grey eyes that blinked once in surprise. Gil cleared his throat. There was a heartbeat of silence and Elrond’s face flushed hot. “Um, Gil, you’re awake. I was, uh, checking to see that all was well.”

“All is well there. But it could perhaps be even better.” Gil smiled teasingly. He raised himself on one elbow.

Elrond sat up abruptly, pulled away. “It was merely in my capacity as your healer. Making sure all was . . . my apologies, I should not have presumed.”

Gil gently slid his hand about Elrond’s wrist. “I liked your touch on my chest. But I thought you stopped much too soon.”

Panicking, Elrond pulled away and scrambled off the bed. “My lord, I am so very glad you are recovered enough to joke. I’ll get you some porridge.”

Gil shrugged, an expression hard to read.

Retreating as quickly as he could with any sort of decorum, Elrond fled the room. Shutting the door behind him, he leaned against it, breathing hard. How long had it been since he’d known that his feelings for the king were no longer just that of loyal subject, friend, and confident? Several years at least. But of course, he brushed such sentiments aside. Even thinking of increasing his intimacy with the king was entirely inappropriate. His liege would no doubt one day marry. There had, in truth, been much talk about it in court the past few years. Gil had always side-stepped the issue, saying that he was too busy to think about such things, or that he hadn’t yet met the right woman. It wasn’t as if he’d never taken a lover before. Elrond knew for a fact that he’d had an affair of the heart with a woman back in Balar, that had ended tragically at Sirion, and there had been numerous other flirtations with both men and women, some of whom Gil had bedded. There had been one time when Elrond had opened the door to the king’s bedroom, foolishly without first knocking. Gil was lying atop a comely Sinda’s back, his strong arms wound around the elf’s chest, his rear rocking slowly and the youth had groaned with pleasure. How he’d replayed that image and that sound of pained delight in his thoughts! But nothing serious had come of those affairs. Of course, nothing could. It wasn’t as if Elrond hadn’t had his own affairs over the years, so there was that.

But lately, he’d begun to suspect that something had changed. He’d catch Gil looking at him, just looking as if trying to memorize his face, or he’d detect a lilt in his voice, a wink of the eye, an arm around the shoulders held a little too long. A shift like that in their relationship, well, it was unthinkable for so many reasons. Elrond had tried distancing himself, which was hardly possible considering how closely they worked together. But last night, as he clasped the shaking king in his arms and prayed for his deliverance, something had shifted in his heart, something that must be firmly pushed aside.

Standing on the wide porch that encircled the lodge, its supporting columns threading treelike into the roof, he inhaled the fragrant forest air, and tried to clear his head.

The day was turning fine; the sun burning off the dew. Just beyond, in a sunlit clearing of the woods, the musicians sat in their cross-legged pose, singing ever so quietly. Lisgil had joined them. Had she been there all night, along with the others? He must remember to mention her diligence to the king. He stepped off the porch, following the flagstone path and then across the grass. Reaching the group, he bowed, with Anor’s rays warm and cheerful on his back. “Greetings and good morning, my friends. I want to thank you for your all-night vigil. It was quite effective as the king is awake now and his health much improved.”

The elves left off their song and looked at each other with wide smiles.

“Blessed be the Belain,” a dark-haired harpist said. With a final glissando, she ceased playing. “We shall go now and come back this evening. As you know, Lord Elrond, the healing process takes time. Perhaps you’d care to join us when we return?”

“I would be most pleased to do so, once I’m satisfied with the king’s progress,” Elrond said. “I should like to learn some of your songs, if it’s permissible to teach them.”

“Of course!” Lisgil replied, rising with a bright smile. The others uncrossed their legs, rose, and departed on the path towards Dínoble.

Lisgil looked intently at Elrond, then nodded. “I shall go about my tasks,” she said and headed towards the kitchen at the back of the house.

Gil’s door was painted green, the frame formed of beautifully carved wood with tooled leaves and flowers. Beyond that door, Gil lay half-naked in his wide bed, now seemingly on the road to recovery. Elrond was tempted, sore tempted to go back inside and slide into the sheets alongside him. He recalled waking several times in the night to take pleasure in the feel of his body pressed close. But no! He must shove these notions aside! His association with the king was too precious to risk upsetting the balance they’d achieved. As king, Gil must someday wed and produce an heir. Elrond was merely his aide, and in this instance, his healer. There could never be anything more between them. Perhaps, it was time to put some distance between them and temptation. The enclave in Forlond needed someone to help run their affairs. Although the very idea of leaving Gil smote his heart with sorrow, duty to the kingdom might require such a move.

With leaden steps, he went to the kitchen to get some food.

**********
That evening, after supper, Gil cheerfully sat up in bed and asked Elrond to bring in some company. “Of course, Gil, but I counsel not for very long,” Elrond responded. He summoned Erestor and Gildor, and invited Astoren to join them. They pulled up chairs and sat together around Gil’s bed, drinking sweet, red wine grown in the king’s vineyards, while a log crackled merrily on the hearth, casting flickering shadows over the carved wooden beams.

“You’re looking much better, my lord,” Astoren said, as he sat comfortably, legs crossed at his ankles, drinking from a tankard. “Our singers were very concerned about you. They sensed you were in considerable pain.”

“Please extend my gratitude to them,” Gil responded. “I feel sure their songs helped. I am much improved, although the leg is still far from comfortable.” He shifted. Elrond’s keen senses picked up the dull throb in Gil’s thigh, which felt worse than merely uncomfortable. “I don’t much remember the past couple of days,” Gil continued. “Although I’m afraid I do remember Elrond’s surgery.” He made a face.

“My apologies for that,” Elrond said.

Gil gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t fret, my friend. I know it was necessary. Battle wounds. Haven’t we all had them? Tell me, Astoren, where did that beast come from? I’ve never seen a boar so massive.”

Astoren shook his head. “Neither had we. Herds of wild pigs do forage in the forests near here, and they can be fierce enough if crossed, but this one, úan vorn was unusual. Nearly half a year ago, he strolled into the village at dusk and terrorized us coming home from our gardens.” He chewed his lip. “It was a nightly occurrence for some time. Then he left for a time, so we thought we were rid of him, but a month ago, he returned. There was something preternatural about the crafty way he looked at us. After he gored and trampled Híthanar’s sons, we formed a hunting party. We were able to wound him with arrows, but he slipped away, almost as if he had disappeared.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t think he was truly a boar.”

Gil looked thoughtful. “I wonder then, what sort of night creature he could have been or where he came from?”

“Huh,” Erestor said. “Well, I heard he died like a normal beast and I saw the body. So, not a ghost boar.” His mist-grey eyes, enhanced by the kohl he wore, flickered thoughtfully.

Elrond fingered the rim of his goblet. “I examined the carcass, this afternoon. Massive in size. I’m told it took a sledge to draw him back. There were strange glandular growths in his neck. Certainly an aberration. I’d like to talk to the one who butchered him.”

“Well, the beast is dead now,” Astoren said. “Thanks to the king’s intervention, for which we are beyond grateful. When you’re feeling well enough, my lord, we’d like to honor you and your entourage with a celebration in the clearing.”

Gil inclined his head, “We’d be most pleased.” He shifted on the bed, grimaced. “In a day or so, perhaps when I am more fit.”

Astoren stood. “Then, with your permission, I’ll take my leave and rejoin the singers who have returned from the village.” He set down his cup, rose, and bowed. “Rest well, my king.”

Gil inclined his head.

Erestor said, “I shall go to my room and try to get some sleep. Elrond, are you staying here again tonight?”

“Yes, I have a mattress.” Elrond indicated the small rectangle, pushed against the wall.

“Is it comfortable?” Erestor asked.

“No. The chair is actually better,” Elrond chuckled.

“Your devotion to duty is noted,” Gil replied. Erestor snorted.

“As for me,” said Gildor, “I think I shall join the singers. I’d like to learn more about this group of elves. I shall return in the morning.”

They all departed, leaving Elrond and Gil with a rather awkward silence. Elrond busied himself, opening a wardrobe to remove blankets and spreading them on the mattress near the warm hearth.

“You could sleep in this bed,” Gil said casually. “There’s plenty of room and I’m told I don’t move much. And after all, we shared it successfully last night.”

Elrond’s face heated. “That was merely to calm your shivering. But your fever is gone now, so there is no need.”

“Huh,” Gil returned grumpily. “Must I become unbearably hot and near death before you’ll put your arms around me again?”

“My lord . . . ,” Elrond began, helplessly. Outside, the elven harpists were tuning up with a cascading plink of strings, the sound sweet as spring rain.

Gil plumped up a pillow and stuck it behind his head. “Elrond, I think we should talk.”

Sliding off his shoes, Elrond lowered himself onto the crunchy mattress, and pulled the blanket over himself.

“You’re going to sleep on the hard floor, in your clothes?” Gil persisted.

“I’ve slept on the ground plenty of times, as you know since usually you were there too,” Elrond said. “This is better than that.” Actually, the mattress was worse, overly soft and lumpy.

“You didn’t respond to my request.”

“Gil, what need is there for talk? You and I both know that we’re treading dangerous ground. I made a mistake this morning for which I have apologized. It was . . . not fitting. I won’t bother you that way again. Now if you’ll excuse me, I feel quite weary. I’ve been up most of the night— for the past three nights.”

“You are as stubborn as you are transparent,” Gil said with a snort. “I don’t need you to stand guard over me. I could call one of the actual guards to do that, and you could go to your room and have a good night’s sleep.”

“You do like to order people about, don’t you, my lord?”

“It was merely a suggestion,” Gil replied with a chuckle. “You’d know if it was an order. But you seem to forget that I am king, after all, and used to giving commands. In fact, people rather expect it of me. And I do like to look after the well-being of my subjects, as well as that of my friends. You should know that I count you my closest friend and perhaps . . .”

“Perhaps we should say good night, my lord,” Elrond said. “There is time tomorrow to talk.” He turned over, staring at the flickering fire, then turned again. The mattress was indeed miserable, even with the cushion of blankets. He heard Gil rolling restlessly as well. Outside, the healers’ song wove into Elrond’s consciousness, lifting something bruised to the surface. Why? He wondered. He was not the one who was wounded.

************
Elrond awoke abruptly, senses on alert. The room was filled with morning light meaning he’d overslept and now Gil wasn’t in his bed! Nor was he anywhere in the room. It must have been the sound of the door closing that woke him. He threw off his blanket, scrambled upright, and barefooted, took a moment to compose his hair and clothing, then lurched out the door onto the porch. The king was nowhere to be seen. Elrond tried to quiet his thoughts and listen. Ah, he could hear his voice. He wasn’t far.

Elrond circled the house along the porch walkway until he reached the kitchen area. To his relief, there was Gil, leaning on his elbows on the porch railing and chatting with several of the servants, one of whom was the healer, Lisgil. He laughed and they laughed with him. He should not have risen so soon and now he was busy charming the staff! Although this was normal for Gil, nevertheless, his leg wasn’t healed and he could have fallen and ripped the stitches.

Running his fingers through his loose black hair, which must look a fright, Elrond strode over to the group composed of Lisgil and two unknown villagers, all of whom, based on their rapt expressions, were clearly appreciative of the king’s attention. “My lord,” Elrond called as he approached. They all looked up. Elrond noticed one of the young men was quite comely, with auburn hair and sky-blue eyes. He seemed to be hanging on the king’s every word. Elrond came close and bowed. “I see you’re up. It is rather soon, don’t you think? Your muscles have barely had a chance to knit.”

Gil smiled at him. “And a good morning to you, Elrond Lag-a-bed. I woke feeling restless and I hate to lie like an invalid on a beautiful morning.” He winked at the others. “I thought I’d thank the cook and his assistant here for providing such delicious soup yesterday. But perhaps you’re right and I should return to bed.”

Lisgil said, “It is probably good to begin mild movement to stretch the muscles. But Lord Elrond is correct. Best not to overdo it.” She gave him a knowing look, which irritated Elrond all the more.

“Come along, my lord,” Elrond said. He slipped his hand in the crook of the king’s arm.

“See, my nursemaid is taking charge,” Gil said. Elrond’s irritation increased.

“How long have you two worked together?’ Lisgil asked.

“How long has it been, Elrond?” Gil replied. “Since we began constructing the Mithlond stronghold, wasn’t it?”

“Seems years beyond counting,” Elrond said. “And the better part of my life. But about fifteen hundred years, give or take.”

“Oh my,” Lisgil said, eyes twinkling. “That explains it.”

“Explains what, my lady?”

“The familiarity,” she said. She smiled at Gil. “My Lord, your seneschal is correct. You should take the weight off the leg. There is a bench on the porch outside your lodging where you could enjoy the sun, which I concur, would be good for healing. And I believe Gaellim has carved a staff that can assist you in walking.” The flame-haired elf gave her a dimpled smile, ran into the house, and returned shortly with a wooden staff, the knob embellished with an expertly carved and stained boar’s head.

“I made this for you,” Gaellim said. “I would be honored if you would accept it, my lord, as evidence of my family’s gratitude. My cousins were slain by that monster, so I thought its head deserved to be on a pike for all time.” He held it out, shyly.

“I am very sorry for your loss,” Gil said solemnly. He turned the staff around, admiring it. “Marvelous work! Such craftsmanship! Thank you, Gaellim. I shall be honored to accept this and will always remember your gift to the crown.”

Many times before Elrond had seen others look at Gil-galad the way Gaellim now looked at him. The king’s warmth and ability to make his subjects feel seen was why he earned such devotion among them. But this look was something more, an offer perhaps. Gil is such a flirt, Elrond thought grumpily. “My lord, shall we go?”

Haltingly, they took a path around the lodge back towards Gil’s room, and then further to a bench on its western side. Flowers, white and blue and yellow, had sprung up amidst the grass surrounding the lodge. Massive white clouds decorated a brilliant blue sky and encircled the snowy peak of Amon Lassen, an impressive sight. With a pained sigh, Gil settled on the bench and Elrond sat carefully on the far end.

“Now that,” Gil pointed at the mountain. “Is why we placed the lodge here. That, and the proximity to Dínoble and the pass.”

“It is indeed spectacular,” Elrond affirmed. There was a pause. So many topics to discuss and none particularly palatable. Elrond began, “Gil, it’s premature for you to be walking around. The boar severed muscle fibers with extensive damage. You need more time before testing them.”

Gil straightened and flexed his leg, with a little grunt. “It is painful, true, but healing quickly and that lovely young herbalist felt that a little exercise would not hurt.”

“Am I your doctor, or is she?” Elrond said, and immediately was sorry at how petulant he sounded.

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Gil smiled. “Perhaps we should take her to work with us in Mithlond. Such a talented young healer should be cultivated, don’t you think?”

Elrond folded his arms. “I think you are toying with me, Gil.”

“I think you’re enjoying the opportunity to tell me what to do,” Gil replied. He leaned back against the bench, with a slight sigh.

“No, I’m merely fulfilling my duty to my king. And as usual, that king rarely listens to my advice.”

“I always listen,” Gil said. “Then I act. Do you feel I act unwisely?” There was an edge in his voice. A double-meaning.

“I feel we both do, on occasion,” Elrond said. “Lisgil is perhaps right that we are . . . too familiar. The result of working together as closely as we have, for as long as we have.”

“Are you dissatisfied with your position, Elrond? Restless, perhaps? Do you wish something else?” The edge in his voice had sharpened.

“Gil, here is the reality. You must choose a queen sometime, probably soon, and when you do, our being so close would be, well, awkward. I doubt she would like it.”

“Who says I must get married?” Gil returned.

“Your counselors have hinted at this for some time,” Elrond said. “It’s important for the realm to have an heir.”

“I think you should let me worry about that, Elrond. And you should know, I am in no hurry to seek a bride. In any case, if I were to marry, that would hardly get in the way of our . . . friendship.”

Elrond felt his temper rise. How could he be so obtuse? “I think your queen may very well have a thing to say about it and I wouldn’t blame her at all!”

“About what? There has been nothing untoward about our friendship. Nor would there be if we . . .”

“If what! Say it, Gil.”

There was a pause. Gil’s face became red. “I won’t have anyone in my court telling me what to do with regard to . . . personal matters.”

This was what he’d feared. Elrond chewed his lip. Inhaled. “For some time, I have wondered if I should move to Forlond. It would be good to have someone from your court there to oversee the town.”

“What! Forlond! It’s much too far away.” Gil shook his head. “No, I need you with me. You are . . . . essential. I have no idea where you keep all the records, or the intricacies of our finances or the various agreements with the enclaves around here. In addition, you are one of the finest healers in these parts. We need you at Mithlond. I will not allow it.”

“You will not allow it!” Elrond cried. “Since when do you order my comings and goings? Or seek to keep me chained to your ankle?”

Gil’s back straightened. “Chained! Are you chained unwilling to me?” he yelled. “I had no idea you were feeling kept, smothered, imprisoned at my side. I’d always fancied you were happy! Perhaps if that’s what you think, it would be better if you did go to Forlond or farther even, perhaps, you would find peace in the West.” He closed his eyes a moment, clearly pained.

Erestor appeared, rather silently. With his kohl-rimmed eyes and wearing a black leather jerkin over a tunic and thigh-high leather boots, he looked formidable. He floated down the four steps to where they had been sitting. Padding over, he stood in front of them with his hands on his hips. “By the blesséd stars, what’s all this shouting?” He sounded irritated, as was his wont, but his lips quirked with amusement.

Elrond rounded on him furiously. “His highness won’t permit me to move to Forlond!”

Erestor lifted an eyebrow. “Hmm, I never knew you wanted to move to Forlond. What in Arda would you do there amongst all those fisherman?”

“Learn to fish,” Elrond snapped.

Gil snorted, then let out a guffaw, shortly followed by Erestor. Eventually, as their merriment increased, Elrond’s lips quirked.

Still chuckling, Erestor said, “Elrond and Gil, my good and dear friends, this is nonsense. Ask yourselves, what are you really angry about?”

“He’s impossible,” Elrond said, pointing at Gil. “He gets up and tries to walk around, after being wounded by a monster boar in a hunt that, by all rights, he should not have participated in. He doesn’t listen to my advice and then claims that I think he’s smothering me, when I never said that. And to top it off, he flirts with every elf in the vicinity.”

“I do not flirt with every elf,” Gil said. “Just the prettiest ones. And you, my dear, are always scolding me for conducting my duties as king if they are the slightest bit dangerous. It gets annoying. And now you want me to get married, to push me off to cohabit with someone I do not love, amongst all those boring financial records, while you roam the world. I am, I must say, unmoored hearing this.”

“I didn’t say I wanted you to take a wife, Gil. I said your position as king demands it!” Elrond paused, biting his lip.

“Elrond!” Gil exclaimed. “Stop meddling in my love life!”

“I am not meddling; I am merely giving sound advice as your counselor, my lord!”

“What I’m hearing from Elrond, sire,” Erestor said patiently, “is a concern for your well-being. I hear affection.”

“Of course, we are fond of each other!” Elrond exclaimed. “I should hope so, after all this time.”

“Umm,” Erestor pursed his lips. “And Gil, why were you so threatened by the notion that Elrond might leave?”

“He’s essential to running Lindon,” Gil said. “I need him.”

“You need him, just to administer the realm?” Erestor echoed. He threw up his hands. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, what nonsense! Why don’t you two just admit you’re in love. All the signs are there. You’re like an old married couple.” Gil’s mouth came open, he spluttered something as he glanced at Elrond. “And now,” Erestor continued. “I think I shall take a walk and leave you to sort out, whatever you need to sort out. Personally, I’d recommend just jumping in bed and reckoning with the aftermath later. I think you’ll find things much simpler.” He sauntered off.

Elrond and Gil sat in shocked silence. “Did Erestor actually say that?” Gil asked.

Elrond nodded. “I fear he did. I can’t imagine why he thinks we’re in love. We’ve just been friends, good friends, for many years.”

Gil sighed. “This is a knot I cannot untie. I find myself becoming weary, Elrond. Could you help me back to the room.”

“I can.” Elrond rose, then said, “Not for the purpose Erestor suggested, though.”

“You’re maddening,” Gil grumbled. Grasping the staff, he pushed himself upright. Elrond took his arm, led him back, and tucked him into bed. Gil gave him a questioning look, then his features schooled; he closed his eyes, and sank into slumber. Elrond sat on the upholstered chair, chin in hand. Was it true? Was he in love? Were they in love with each other? And if so, by Elbereth’s heavens, what should they do about it?

***********
While Gil slept, Elrond concluded he needed some distance to think things over. He moved his belongings to his own room, then found Erestor enjoying the sunshine in the garden, and asked if he could watch over the king for a while.

Erestor looked at him critically. “This is your answer?”

“I need to think,” Elrond replied. “There’s much to consider.”

Erestor sucked on his teeth a moment, then he said. “Yes, consider, Elrond. Do so carefully. May I say, I’m the last person on Arda to counsel anyone regarding unrequited love.”

“You? Erestor, I did not know. Who?”

Erestor held up a hand. “Some day I’ll tell you. It goes back to my life in Gondolin, during the time when I tutored your father, so ‘twas sufficiently long ago as no matter. But one thing I have learned, when the other elf feels the same as you do, as I happen to know this one does, then you should not let false impediments, such as politics,” here he emphasized the word, “get in your way. Now, you know me, I do not give advice often or lightly, as it rarely lands well, but in this case, I’m making an exception, because, not only do I love you both and want you to be happy, but I believe that your happiness is good for the realm at large.” He nodded. “Yes, ponder that one, my friend. Right now, you believe that sacrificing your desire is for the greater good, but consider the possibility that a joyful and acknowledged union with the king might well redound to uplift him in all that is coming.”

“All that is coming?” Elrond asked doubtfully.

“You’ve told me yourself that there are signs of something evil manifesting in our lands. I believe this unnatural boar is one of those signs. As the king’s intelligencer, I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t investigate further.”

Elrond paused, nodded. “That is certainly a larger consideration than my relationship with our sovereign.”

“He needs you, Elrond, as does the realm. Think on it.”

“I will. And thank you, Erestor, for your heart-felt advice.”

“It would not be good for the realm to have division at the very heart of it,” Erestor said, rising from his seat. Then he winked. “Besides, what are friends for? I’ll go watch over our injured sovereign and leave you to your ruminations. In any event, Astoren says rain is coming, so they’d like to have their celebration this evening. They will understand if Gil must leave early.”

“Very well,” Elrond nodded.

Erestor strolled towards the king’s room and Elrond went the other direction, across the clearing and into the woods. He followed deer trails through pine, flowering rowan and downy birch up the lower slope of Amon Lassen. As he walked, he thought about what Erestor had said. It had not occurred to him that engaging in a deeper relationship with Gil might not only be good for them both, but benefit the kingdom as well. Was that true? Or was he perhaps locked into thinking that good could only be achieved through sacrifice. He had certainly learned that lesson many times over in his youth, including the lesson taught by his mother and father, who had sacrificed so much for Arda.

Eventually, he came to a flat rock where he could look out over the rounded heads of the verdant forest trees onto the wide plain and sparkling waters of the River Lhûn beyond. He sat down.

What would happen if he upended the existing status? At the moment, he and Gil were . . . comfortable with each other. If they slept together, that relationship might change. Instead of strengthening their bond, it could be the unraveling of it. More than two decades ago, Elrond had an affair with Laerol, a jeweler from Ost-in-Edhil, he of the willowy body and long-lashed eyes. Elrond’s heart sighed with the memory of that endless seduction, the longing. Sometimes Laerol responded, other times he did not. It was maddening. Elrond often thought of returning to Lindon, but hopeful, he stayed. Then came that heady evening where they drank too much and fell in bed for a night of passion far greater than he could have imagined. For a time, they were happy as turtledoves, but then slowly Laerol became possessive, controlling. Elrond shuddered remembering that nasty fight after he found Elrond drinking wine with elves from the glass-smiths' guild. All the glass in his room had met doom at Laerol’s hands, so that for weeks, he couldn't walk barefoot without picking up slivers. Afterwards his lover became aloof, cold, and despairing, so Elrond returned to Mithlond. He’d never informed the king about it. But instead of chastising him for his moodiness, Gil had sought to divert him. He’d taken him searching for mushrooms out near Emyn Beraid, where he’d fallen on his arse and laughed for the first time in a year. And Gil had laughed too, not at him, but with him. This friendship, he realized, was true, and it meant more to him than anything in the world. He did not want to risk it.

A white dove landed on a nearby pine branch and cooed. Elrond looked up at her. Her feathers were marked by a dark band around the back of her neck. She cocked her head at him, most intelligently. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he cooed back, oo oorr ooh uh. To Elrond’s astonishment, the dove swooped to the ground, landing several yards away. She walked in a jerky circle, then paused and examined him with onyx eyes.

“How now, Cugu, do you wish to advise me on affairs of the heart?” Elrond chuckled.

She bobbed her head and astonishingly, flew and landed right on his knee, looking up at him. He held still, enraptured. Then she said, ‘Elrond,’ clear as day. Although Elrond couldn’t tell if the voice was in his head or came from the bird’s throat.

Startled, Elrond bent toward her. “Are you the bird that came to me the night the king was so ill?”

The bird’s head bobbed.

Elrond slowly extended his finger. She hopped onto it, clutching with dry, bony feet. A strange feeling enveloped Elrond. For a moment, he stood on the edge of that vast cliff, gripping his brother’s hand, while the clash and din of battle, accompanied by fierce shouts, came nearer and nearer. His mother, tall and pale, stood with them. She cast her glance desperately about, while fingering that bright jewel hanging from her neck. Its light bathed the vicinity like the rays of the sun through a cloud. Elrond wanted to douse it with his hands, to hide it from the monsters coming for them. But she knelt and gathered both of them in her arms, hugged them so tightly to her breast that Elrond was smashed against his brother and could barely breathe. She was wracked with sobs, which added to his terror.‘Always remember how much I love you,’ she said, ‘but understand, I must finally end this for all the ages of this world. Run now and hide, my sons. Be brave. You will be well, as I shall always watch over you.’ Then she drew back, smiling, as tears tracked down her cheeks.

The memory faded. He stared at the bird. “Are you . . .?” he began.

‘Trust love,’ the bird said. She flapped, flew off his finger, circled him once, then sped into the sky. A single white feather drifted down, landing on the ground near him. His heart full, Elrond bent to pick it up. He twirled it between his fingers, then put it in his pocket.

---

Chapter End Notes

Cugu – (S) dove. I kid you not, just as I was writing about the dove, an actual dove flew to a perch under the eaves of our house, which I can see from my desk. For many years doves have built a nest there and raised chicks. This one began busily plucking out the old twigs to rebuild it, soon joined by her mate. It’s the first dove of the season arriving earlier than usual. Coincidence?
Híthanar (S) mist brother. Thanks to Chestnut_pod’s Elvish Name List
Laerol (S) summer dream. Again, Chestnut_pod’s Elvish Name List
Gaellim (S) russet fish. Yay for Chestnut_pod.
úan vorn (S) Black monster. Thanks Shihali!

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