FRAGILE HOPE

by: Star Chaser

 

E-mail: chasing_twilight@yahoo.co.uk

Rating: PG13

Summary: Two Elves find love in the backdrop of the Council of Elrond

Disclaimer: Characters and settings belong to J.R.R Tolkien. Close reference is made to the chapters 'Many Meetings' and 'The Council of Elrond' from 'The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring' and also from Appendix B of 'The Return of The King', both by J.R.R Tolkien. It is in no way intended to claim these works as my own.

Notes: I understand that the Hall of Fire is described by Bilbo in 'FOTR' as somewhere for people to go for peace, but I have manipulated it to be more of a meeting place for the Elves of Imladris. Please note also that the lines "Now we had better have it again" and "I am flattered, Lindir, but it would be too tiring to repeat it all" are quoted directly from 'The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring" by J.R.R Tolkien.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

When all the events of this age are written down, there will be no room in any book for an account of our love. It would be too much to expect, of course, for we lived through dark times. Tales shall be told of the great War of The Ring, the battle that shaped the future of Middle Earth. The victories of the halflings and Men shall be immortalised amid the few scattered names of Elves. The Lord and Lady of Lothlórien shall not be forgotten, nor Prince Legolas of the Nine Walkers. Our own Lord and his kin also have an important place in history, for his daughter, the young maiden that we watched grow before us is now a Queen.

Yet for Elves like us, who have long since left the shores of Arda, there will be no memory. It grieves me sometimes for it is almost heartbreaking to think that none shall ever hear of the hope and joy that you brought me through all those darkened days. None but us shall understand the bittersweet love that we found, a love that waited millennia to bloom but shall last an eternity.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

A council had been called. The matter of the reawakening shadow in the east was something that the Elves alone could not deal with. All the free races of Middle Earth were bound to the fate of the Dark Lord and they together had to decide what was to be done. Times had turned grim in the valley, the counsellors shut away for days at a time in private chambers so that they might discuss their options in confidence. All were anxious and could feel the fear in their hearts growing. They knew that they must have faith, yet it was difficult when so little was known about the events that had come to pass since the victory of the Last Alliance. At Lord Elrond’s command, representatives of the races of Men and Dwarves were called to Imladris, as well as the northern kindred of the Elves. Only then could the mystery begin to be unravelled.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Erestor was weary and eager to ease his troubled mind by enjoying a walk in the gardens of Imladris. For too long Lord Elrond’s chief advisor had toiled over lore books and ancient volumes in a seemingly hopeless search for some answers. Their task would have been much easier if they had known what questions were being asked. But they knew that they must bide their time, for slowly the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. That very afternoon Glorfindel had been sent to search for the hobbit that Elrond was expecting to arrive. Word had reached the valley that the Nine were abroad and the safety of the halfling was uncertain. Black clouds amassed over Imladris and all felt an inexplicable foreboding.

Erestor shook his head as he walked, as though trying to clear his thoughts. Time enough for worrying there would be, he mused, for it was clear that many trials were yet to come. His revered status as both advisor and friend to Lord Elrond meant that Erestor would be in the thick of whatever happened. He supposed that he should take this time to appreciate a few final days of peace. The Valar only knew of what ill times lay ahead.

As he walked along a pavilion outside the Last Homely House, the shadowy Elf heard merry voices on the wind. His keen gaze quickly identified a group making their way towards the Hall of Fire. One caught sight of him and called out.

“Good evening, lord Erestor! Will you not join us in the Hall?”

He raised a hand and curved his lips slightly. “I wish to enjoy the peace of the night awhile, my friend, but I shall join you presently.”

The other Elf nodded and the group went on their way, talking and laughing. Erestor walked on, pulling his cloak a little tighter around himself against the cool night air. It was common for the folk of Imladris to enjoy the company of others and as such the Hall of Fire was filled nightly with Elves wishing to share tales and songs. Although Erestor was the head of this household, it was rare that he joined them. He was introspective by nature, had been a scholar and lore master for thousands of years. Much responsibility rested upon him thus he placed his duties before everything else and though it warmed his heart to see his kindred happy, he did not feel that he could join in. Erestor was a sombre Elf, wearied by long days of anxiety.

There were a few small joys in his life, but one shone as a bright star on a clear night in his heart. The one reason that he would sometimes retreat to the Hall, standing at the back, hoping that the shadows would conceal him. He would listen intently to one in particular, a small private smile playing on his lips, fascinated by the way this Elf told tales with such passion, sang songs of old in a sweet and soothing voice. However uncomfortable Erestor felt being in the Hall, his self-consciousness would fade when he laid his eyes upon the Elf. Some nights he would ease his loneliness by attending the gatherings, taking heed of no other, but serving as a unique, hidden audience for the one he admired so.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Lindir was sprawled upon the stone tiled floor alongside many other Elves. A duo were singing the song of Elbereth and those listening were filled with gladness, smiles lighting fair faces. He felt at home in the Hall of Fire, for to him it was the heart of Imladris. The light of his kindred shone through their songs, the pride and love of their heritage was bound in tales of the Eldar. Lindir felt that he would never tire of hearing them as he witnessed the joy that they brought to those around him.

Yet there was one that had captured his attention a long time ago, one for whom the joy ever appeared to come. It was not often that this Elf was present and when he was, he never ventured far into the room. He kept himself to himself, silent and with guarded emotions. Lindir thought that Erestor was beautiful. He was tall and willowy, much different in appearance to the border guards of Imladris for whom the physical demands put upon them ensured that they possessed muscular bodies. Those built forms impressed Lindir not. He hungered instead to see Erestor’s lithe body laid out naked before him, to trace the lines of his angular hips and slender limbs with curious fingers, to pay homage with adoring lips.

He had known Erestor for long years, of course, for they had both been in Imladris for centuries. There was a time, however, that he hadn’t ever thought much about him. They led different lives, Erestor had much responsibility as the head of the household and as chief advisor to Lord Elrond whilst Lindir seemed to amble his days away composing poetry and occasionally assisting the lore masters in the great library. Few instances ever brought them together. So it was by chance one night that Lindir had raised his eyes in the midst of a tale and caught the gaze of an Elf in the shadows of the Hall of Fire. His breath had caught in his throat as he had drowned in dark eyes and seen for the first time the depth of Erestor’s beauty. The Elves who had sat before Lindir had looked at him questioningly, wondering why he had paused. At length he had torn himself away, turning back to his audience with a nervous laugh.

Since that night he had been greatly changed. Content as he was to play the part of entertainer, his heart made a secret wish nightly for Erestor to return. When he did not come, there was a heaviness upon Lindir that, until then, he had never known.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Erestor’s status meant that he knew of Lindir’s whereabouts almost every day and of course knew that the Elf was almost always present in the Hall of a night. Yet he did not act upon this knowledge. He knew that he had a great liability to Lord Elrond and his family and that he must place them before the whims of his heart. The Lord’s children were but young when Erestor had first felt drawn to Lindir. Much they had to learn and it was the duty of both he and Glorfindel to teach them. It was no easy task to keep two squabbling twins and their younger sister under control and Erestor was relieved for more than one reason when Lindir would occasionally arrive at the end of their lessons with the promise of a story.

Still he repressed his feelings. He had not the time to allow his unrealistic dreams to consume him. It was only when his will was weakened by some trouble of his mind that he would go to the Hall. So it was that he found himself drawn towards the warmth of the chamber that night. He arrived to find the room full of Elves, conversation drifting in a quiet murmur and minstrels in one corner of the room playing sweet music. He found his usual place, eyes discreetly scanning the room in search of one in particular.

It did not take long for Erestor’s shrewd gaze to identify Lindir. He gasped inwardly as he watched the Elf, clad in robes of silver grey, laughing along with his companions. Lindir was fair, his face seeming incredibly youthful. There were only a few hundred years separating him in age from Erestor, yet the advisor’s features were more defined compared to Lindir’s softer, rounded look. The Elf’s cheekbones were high and his soft grey eyes were set beneath delicately curved brows. He was crowned with a mane of thick hair, dark as raven’s wings and typical of the Imladris Elves. Erestor thought him more beautiful than anything he had set eyes upon, yet it was the sound of Lindir’s voice that drew him in all the more. The Elf could conjure images of majesty and terrible beauty with his animated accounts of ancient tales. When he spoke and sang, all listened. Lindir seemed at home being the centre of attention but Erestor wished to will him away, prize him as a treasure of his own and worship him in private. He liked to imagine how it would feel to have that voice reserved solely for himself and to hear it say all that he dreamed of.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Lindir was listening to two brothers tell a tale in their usual humorous manner. He and the Elves around him were enchanted by the words, musical laughter rewarding the pair at frequent intervals. When the tale was finished, the group urged Lindir to take a turn. He rose from the floor and bowed with a laugh as they applauded him.

“Very well, my friends!” He said. “I shall recount a tale, though it shall not be a cause for mirth.”

At the sound of his clear voice, other Elves in the room turned to him. Many sought the attention of their friends, the message that Lindir was about to speak quickly passing through the room in excited whispers. A hush fell across the Hall as Lindir stepped up upon a small raised platform. He smiled, a modest blush painting his cheeks. He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts as he prepared to tell the long tale that he had planned for that night. Almost subconsciously his gaze turned to the dark corner that it fell upon every night. He felt his stomach tie in knots as he espied Erestor, standing straight backed and with his arms folded protectively across his body in an obvious display of insecurity. Their eyes met and, for one brief moment, Lindir’s world came to a standstill. He saw Erestor nod his head in a slight movement, a gesture of acknowledgement and respect. Lindir just managed to return it, a soft smile playing upon his lips as he disregarded all of the others in the room. Finally, he turned back to them and his tale began.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Erestor attempted to remain composed, yet he could not ignore the way his knees were quivering, threatening to give up their fight to support him. It had been a simple gesture, yet it had seemed to mean so much to them both. Time was not usually something that he thought of much, for his Elvish nature meant that he had little concept of the finite. Yet now time meant everything to Erestor, for those few seconds spent with his eyes locked on Lindir’s had burned their way into his mind. He longed to relive them, but instead he placed fierce focus upon the words that Lindir now spoke, losing himself as always in that voice.

“You have heard many a tale of the ancient world in this Hall,” Lindir began. “Yet what I shall recite this evening is an account of a happening that occurred not so long ago. It is a tale that closely concerns us all, for it involves the past of our very own Lord. It is a tale still fresh in the minds of many, for some of you were there and some felt a great pain at the loss of their kin. Yet no life was lost in vain, for those who fought were valiant. It was a time when our kindred resisted the shadow of the east, forming an alliance with the race of Men. It was a time when all who opposed the Dark Lord joined together and marched into Mordor and what seemed like certain doom…”

Erestor was surprised to hear Lindir telling this particular tale. It seemed to him that the Elves of Imladris were more aware of what was happening than he expected, for no matter how Lord Elrond desired for the news to remain hushed, the valley was a small place and few things were kept secret. Indeed, the hobbit named Bilbo Baggins had been in Imladris for a time now and his arrival had sparked curiosity in many. Perhaps Lindir had decided to stir these thoughts in the others to remind them of the threat that was posed. Erestor had not forgotten how it felt to go into that dark land, for even then he had been Elrond’s advisor and although he had not fought in the battle, he had been a part of the council of strategists that had designed the battle plans. A slight shudder ran down his spine as he recalled vividly the sight of Orodruin looming ahead of them as they came down into the desolate terrain.

The Last Alliance had found its victory, yet the price was high for many. Erestor had spent long days comforting Elrond after the fall of Gil-Galad and then there was the matter of Isildur’s claiming of the One Ring. All in all, Elrond and Erestor had returned to Imladris at the battle’s end feeling anything but victorious. Much remained uncertain and the Lord’s suffering was only eased with his marriage to the lady Celebrían and later the birth of their children. As the years passed by, all had been peaceful for a while. Yet now, since Celebrían’s departure to the Havens, Elrond and Erestor felt once again that dark times were ahead.

Overwhelmed by sudden fretfulness, Erestor turned and left the Hall. As he walked away, he found that it was difficult to breathe. Beads of perspiration pooled down his back beneath his heavy robes and he was eager to get back out into the night air. Once outside, he leaned against a wall, breathing deeply and closing his eyes. It did not make sense to him that he should feel this way. He was an Elf, not usually susceptible to malady. It was just that his memories had been so clear and to think now that the same fear was stirring again had caused dread in him.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Lindir was torn. He was in the middle of a story, the Elves in the Hall hanging on his every word. He could not slip away unnoticed; yet he could not let Erestor leave alone, not when he looked so troubled. After a few more moments of deliberation, Lindir paused.

“Please excuse me for one moment, for this is indeed an arduous tale and even a seasoned performer must at times take a brief rest.”

A light ripple of laughter passed through the room as he stepped nimbly down and flitted through the assembly. Though as he left, many of the Elves remarked at how unusual it was for Lindir to abandon an audience. They murmured to one another, trying to decide what could have caused him to depart so suddenly. He did not hear their voices as he stepped out into the night. He looked around, desperately seeking the Elf who had left moments before him.

“Erestor?” He softly questioned as he saw the Elf leaning against the wall.

Dark eyes slowly opened. “Lindir…”

“Are you well? I saw you leave suddenly and I was concerned.”

Erestor was speechless. His mind was not functioning properly now that he was faced with an Elf whom he was accustomed to merely watching from afar. He had made a life for himself as an advisor, discussing and debating, yet when it came to Lindir, he was at a loss for words. He managed to smile slightly, nodding his head as he regained his breath. This did not seem to satisfy Lindir, however, so Erestor slowly began to muster an explanation.

“It has been a tiring day indeed. I fear that my fatigue suddenly got the better of me.”

“I should not imagine that it helped you much to be wearing so heavy a cloak in the Hall,” Lindir smiled. “Perhaps in the future you will be kind enough to come in and set aside your burden.”

Erestor felt a blush burning his cheeks and silently thanked the Valar that it was dark.

“Would that I had the time. Unfortunately there is much to be done at present and I cannot afford the time to hear tales of joy.”

“Alas, they are not all tales of joy. I fear that I have caused you some upset by speaking of the Last Alliance.”

Erestor forced a small smile, wishing to reassure Lindir.

“Not upset as such,” He said quietly. “Perhaps anxiety would be a more apt description. Tell me, are you aware of what is happening? Is that why you chose to tell the tale?”

Lindir averted his eyes guiltily.

“It would be a falsehood if I claimed ignorance, yet I can assure you that I have only heard rumour of the rekindled fear. There has been much talk of the Nine and of Isildur’s Bane throughout the house for some time now. I suppose I just wished to provide some hope for those who may be wracked with doubt. There have been victories in the past and we need not fear that all will come to ruin in the future.”

Erestor looked upon the younger Elf in wonder. Never before had he heard him speak so directly about so great a matter. He had spent centuries listening to Lindir tell the tales of others, yet to hear an individual opinion was a rare gift indeed. He himself felt comforted already to hear Lindir speak in such a way. He smiled warmly at him.

“You speak sense,” He murmured.

Lindir bowed his head graciously. “My thanks,” He replied. “Now if all is well with you, I must excuse myself for I have a tale to tell.”

“Yes, thank you for your concern. Do not feel as though I did not enjoy the tale for I did. I always do.”

“I will ask one thing of you if I may,” Lindir said boldly. Erestor nodded to him. “Join us tomorrow. Do not lurk in the shadows but try to share in our gladness.”

Erestor could not restrain the smile of complete joy that spread on his face. “I shall be there.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He went the next night, reluctantly walking further into the Hall than usual and mingling with the others. They appeared delighted to see him and many asked him if all was well, for they were aware of the long meetings of the counsellors and had heard of Glorfindel being sent out into the wilds to complete some unknown task. Erestor told them all that he could in a bid to reassure them. At last he came to Lindir. The advisor bowed his head slightly in greeting, his shroud of dark hair falling forward. He rarely wore it bound in braids and Lindir was distracted in admiring the way that it hung freely about his shoulders. He soon realised that Erestor was waiting for him to speak. The younger Elf cleared his throat and then smiled.

“Well met,” He said. “I am glad that you held true to your promise.”

“It was so kind an offer that I had not the heart to refuse,” Erestor replied.

“Please, be seated. We were just about to begin.”

Erestor tucked his robes beneath himself as he sat down upon the floor. That night Lindir and others told the bittersweet story of Beren and Lúthien. Afterwards, many songs of great loves and loss were sung. Erestor sat, entranced until the night drew to a close. Gradually, the Elves began to leave, gently wishing one another pleasant dreams. Some retired to their chambers whilst others made for various locations around the valley to continue their songs beneath the star dusted sky.

Erestor waited quietly until Lindir was alone before going to him.

“Your tale was beautifully told,” He said softly. “Small wonder so many return here each night.”

“You are very gracious to say so,” Lindir replied. “I hope that you will join us again soon.”

“I imagine that I shall. Now, if you will excuse me…”  

“Are you leaving so soon?”

Erestor paused, surprised by the urgent tone of the question. He remained silent for a while, attempting to read the hidden messages in Lindir’s eyes.

“I wondered if perhaps you would care to walk with me…” The younger Elf stammered as a means of explanation.

The advisor felt his stomach tighten with excited nerves. He did not remember when ever he had spent so much time in the exclusive company of Lindir. He could not help but wonder at the Elf’s sudden interest in him. The thought of the two of them being alone in the fair gardens of Imladris sent shivers of anticipation down Erestor’s spine.

“Very well,” He said. “You have persuaded me.”

Lindir smiled a small smile as the pair left the Hall.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

They had spent many hours walking and talking. Lindir pressed Erestor about his troubles, though the advisor would reveal little. He assured the younger Elf that he could say no more than he had to the other Elves earlier that night, though he told him in greater depth about Glorfindel’s errand and the expected arrival of the hobbit. Erestor trusted Lindir and was relieved to speak to someone on the outside of the council about the matters that were causing them such worry. Lindir listened avidly, though Erestor did not know how interested he really was. The older Elf supposed that he was just being polite. Yet at the end of their evening, Lindir made Erestor promise once again that he would come to the Hall the next night. The advisor had not been able to resist the pleading look on the other’s face and gave his word. He returned not only the next night, but for the following twelve nights also. Much was happening in Imladris during those days, yet Erestor’s attention was becoming increasingly drawn to the Hall of Fire. He longed for nightfall so that he could go and listen and feel at ease. More, however, he longed for the times after when he and Lindir would go walking. He could quite happily pass the time until the dawn with the Elf by the banks of the Bruinen, watching the golden dawn conquer the deep blue night.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It was two nights before the great council was set to take place. Imladris was a hive of activity as each day messengers and travellers arrived. The Elves rejoiced to see Mithrandir when he came, though in their hearts some saw it as a cause for concern. What had been rumours were quickly becoming facts and with each new arrival, the clearer the problem seemed.

The hobbit had arrived, wounded and closely followed by his companions. Glorfindel led three other halflings and Lord Elrond’s foster son, Estel into the valley whilst his steed, Asfaloth, bore the one named Frodo. Elrond had been tending to him night and day; his expert skills in healing needed to overcome the foul poison of the enemy. That did not mean, however, that there had been any suspension of Erestor’s work. Amid taking counsel with the Men, Dwarves and Elves that had been arriving, he had talked long with both Mithrandir and Estel. Indeed, he had spent no less than two days closed away in a study and thus had not the time to go to the Hall of Fire. He silently chastised himself for getting his hopes up. The enormity of his duty was precisely why he had never thought to pursue his feelings for Lindir, but recently he had let that barrier down. Now he felt almost hollow inside for not having seen the Elf for two days. He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts, for there was much to be done.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Lindir did not have the heart to go to the Hall that night. He had sat out upon a terrace in the sun that day, watching as horses filled the courtyard and strangers from far lands came into the Last Homely House. He felt a chill in his bones, slowly coming to understand the foreboding that Erestor had been trying to explain to him. This was no small problem and it seemed not to be in an early stage. Lindir wondered how much time they had and what was to be done. The one certainty in his mind was that there was a battle ahead that would be equivalent to, if not on a grander scale, than that of the Last Alliance. His telling of the tale now seemed like an ironic introduction for what was obviously about to happen. He had to talk to Erestor.  

He sought him throughout the day, but had no success. Every time he inquired about Erestor’s whereabouts, he was told that the advisor was otherwise engaged. Many were coming and going from the library and the counsellor’s studies, none that Lindir recognised. Finally tired of trying to explain why it was that he needed to see Erestor, he decided to find some solitude. He passed a lonely day by the river, content to be away from the hustle and bustle of the house, yet feeling empty in his isolation. It was only later that he went back, in the small hope that the activity might have quietened down and that Erestor might be free. His friends were going into the Hall when he stole silently into the house.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Erestor was sitting at a desk in the library, mulling over some scrolls. Lord Elrond had asked him to seek one in particular if he found the time. They were concerned greatly about the hobbit’s well being and Elrond needed some information in particular about the poison to speed up the healing process. The advisor put his hands to his face, rubbing briefly at his temples. He pushed back his dark hair and tried once again to focus upon the task at hand. It was shortly after that the sound of soft footsteps roused him from his thoughts. He raised his deep brown eyes to see Lindir standing in the archway. A small smile claimed him as his heart began to beat a little harder.

“At last I find you,” Lindir said softly. “How do you fare?”

“I am well,” Erestor replied.

Lindir shot him a look of disbelief, at which they both laughed gently. “I have been watching the guests arrive all day and I knew that you would be under great demand, but I wished to see you.”

Erestor toyed with the end of a quill that he had been writing with, causing a few small droplets of ink to flick upon the desk. He wiped them away with the sleeve of his robe as he looked back up at Lindir.

“You did not have to wait to see me tonight. You should be in the Hall. Goodness knows we all need some light relief from the heaviness that hangs over this house at present.”

“Aye,” The younger Elf said with a sigh. “Yet I do not feel like being joyful tonight. This heaviness of which you speak seems to have found its way into my heart, I am afraid.”

The advisor set his papers aside and looked to the other Elf with a sympathetic smile.

“I do not believe that you have much to fear. At least not yet, anyway. The past few days have provided a little comfort, for the counsel that we have taken has proven helpful. It is only uncertainty that is hanging heavy upon us now. I only hope that the Great Council will set our minds at rest.”

“Are you yet occupied?” Lindir asked. “I think it would be in your best interest to take some rest from this labour.”

Erestor smiled warmly. “I believe that you are right. My work here is finished for this day at least.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

They left the library and made for a secluded balcony close to Erestor’s chamber. On the way they stopped by the kitchens to fetch a bottle of wine. Even at that late hour there was still a considerable amount of activity in and around the house. They sat upon a stone bench, each with a glass of wine and overlooking the courtyard.

“I am sometimes very glad that I have not the responsibility of Elves such as yourself,” Lindir said.

Erestor laughed. “Although I will admit that it is at times a trial, it is also rewarding. Elrond is my friend as well as my Lord and I have stood by him through both ill times and glad. I have never once regretted accepting the role as head of this house.”

Lindir turned to him, his head cocked to the side in question. “Yet sometimes it seems that you have had to sacrifice so very much for the sake of the Lord’s family.”

“I suppose that it is just in my character,” Erestor said defensively. “I have always revered Lord Elrond. I considered it an honour indeed when I was assigned such high status in Imladris.”

Lindir placed a calming hand upon the advisor’s arm. “Peace,” He reassured. “I am not questioning your motives. It just seems strange to me somehow that you are always so pensive and reserved.”

Erestor looked at him with a slight frown. “Is that how you see me?” He paused, contemplating Lindir’s words. Finally, he surrendered. “I cannot blame you for I understand that it must seem that way.”

They both laughed.

“It is in the nature of Elves to be merry,” Lindir said. “We may feel both the joyful and sorrowful at once, yet it is through our songs and tales that our hearts are gladdened. It is all too rare that I see this in you, Erestor.”

The older Elf was touched by his companion’s words. Never in the centuries that he had spent admiring Lindir had he ever dared to dream that the Elf would spare the time to think about him in such depth, to show such concern.

“You need not worry about me,” Erestor replied at length. “I can assure you that your tales have touched me in ways that you cannot begin to imagine. Whenever I have been troubled I have sought comfort in Elvish songs. I cannot help being introverted, Lindir. Although my happiness may not be evident, I promise you that it exists.”

The younger Elf refreshed their glasses with a smile. “Glad indeed I am to hear it,” He replied, raising his glass. “To your good fortune.”

Erestor raised his glass also, tipping it so that it met Lindir’s with a small ringing sound. “And to yours.”

They were silent for long moments, watching wordlessly the world pass by below them. Elves were leaving the Hall of Fire and their sweet voices carried on the wind. A smile graced Lindir’s fair face. Erestor turned to him and merely watched for a while.

“You are yet hopeful.” It was a statement rather than a question, for the advisor could see it in the other Elf’s eyes.

“Yes,” Lindir replied simply. “I have faith in the power of those that oppose evil.”

“I wish sometimes that I could find that faith,” Erestor said faintly.

Their eyes met and they exchanged unspoken messages. Lindir looked deep into Erestor’s brown eyes, so dark that they appeared almost black and so full of private anguish. The younger Elf felt his pulse quicken and, without thought, leaned forward.

It was a fairly chaste kiss, lasting no more than a matter of moments. Lindir, lips slightly parted, claimed Erestor’s full pout in a sweet gesture. He knew that it was a somewhat bold and perhaps even foolish way to soothe; yet he acted on instinct. So tender it was that at first Erestor did not react, for he was unsure if he had dreamed it or not. He blinked a few times, attempting to focus upon the Elf before him. Lindir uncomfortably shifted his gaze, immediate remorse seizing him. After a long pause, Erestor broke the silence.

“Excuse me, Lindir. The hour is late and I have another taxing day ahead.”

The younger Elf did not respond, merely watched as the other departed, numb with shame and regret.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Erestor silently cursed himself as he closed the door of his chamber. He had spent a large part of his life yearning for that kiss and yet when it had come, he could not react. He supposed that it was shock more than anything else that had caused him to react so abruptly. He sat down upon the bed with a sigh, wishing he had stayed. If not to kiss the precious Elf again, then to at least talk to him. Lindir had kissed him, which could mean only one thing.

With a hectic mind and a saddened heart, Erestor laid his head down to rest. His sleep was fitful, plagued with ill portending dreams.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The following day final preparations for the council were being made. Frodo’s recovery had been speedier than originally anticipated and although he had not regained all of his strength, neither Lord Elrond nor the counsellors of Imladris thought it wise to tarry too long, so the Council was going ahead as planned.

For once Erestor took advantage of his position and assigned most of the work to the other counsellors. He also took it upon himself to leave his study in the mid-afternoon, for he had not the mind to work when the autumn sun was shining down upon Imladris. He took a walk alone, listening to birdsong and the roar of the Bruinen. Crisp brown and gold leaves were floating down on the breeze to join those that were already being trod underfoot. The air was fresh, tinged with a slight chill. Erestor breathed deeply, feeling as though he had spent an age shut away in the house. To be away from it was wonderful, he could not deny, yet at the same time he did not wish to be alone. He walked a while longer before returning to his chamber to ready himself for the feast that Elrond was holding that night.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The feast was dull and lengthy. Lord Elrond sat in his usual place at the head of the table, flanked on either side by Mithrandir and Glorfindel. To the left of the golden haired Elf sat Erestor, clad in the formal red and gold robes of Imladris. He was distracted from the conversation that was being carried out around him, thoughts turning constantly to when the feast might end and the group would move to the Hall of Fire. He had not stopped thinking about Lindir since the night before, though even his scholar’s mind could not find fitting words to express what he so greatly desired to say. Yet it must be done, for it was plain that he his actions had caused Lindir offence. If he could not find the courage to confess his true feelings, he at least owed the Elf an apology. Erestor sighed and then took another deep gulp of his wine. Glorfindel turned to talk to him and he humoured the warrior, feigning interest for the sake of good manners.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It was not often that Lindir’s friends found themselves begging him to go to the Hall of Fire, yet now for the second consecutive night, he was reluctant to go. Unknown to the other Elves, he had spent the day in his chamber. He had not even the heart to walk in the gardens that he so loved, for all his energy was spent. He was exhausted after a sleepless night spent berating himself, cursing his own folly. Over and over he asked himself why he had been so rash, so presumptuous to think that Erestor, the head of the household, would simply accept his advances. Gods, how could he go on living here, knowing what had happened and how he had been rejected?

His friends urged him to come to the Hall, for they sensed that something was amiss. Lindir knew of the feast that was being held, that it would later move to the Hall. He knew that Erestor would be at that table now, perhaps planning to retire to his chamber when it was over rather than risk seeing him. Forced to make a quick decision, Lindir agreed to go for a short while. He did not wish to raise suspicion amongst his friends for he could not cope with intrusive questions at present. If the advisor did arrive later, he would be sure to keep well out of his way, lest he cause himself further humiliation. With a sigh and a forced smile, the Elf turned to his friends. It would not be proper to be in a dark mood.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Erestor’s hands began to shake as he silently followed Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen out of the feasting chamber and to the Hall of Fire. His mouth was dry, his stomach tying in knots, yet it seemed to be a product of excitement rather than dread. After the long wait of the feast, his adrenaline was compensating for any doubt he had earlier felt. The great doors were pushed back and they stepped into the darkness of the room. The minstrels had already begun their music for the evening as the party arrived and began to settle themselves.

He discreetly cast his gaze over the room, though he could not see Lindir. There were more present than usual due to the guests. The Hall was crowded, full of the dark heads of the Imladris Elves who had come for the novelty of the special occasion. Erestor did not imagine that he would have much good fortune in detecting Lindir in the dimly lit space whilst stood in one spot. He excused himself from Elrond and Glorfindel’s company and began to move gracefully through the room.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Lindir saw the party enter the room. They could not be missed, for it was rare indeed to see halflings and Dwarves in a procession behind an Elven Lord. Elrond and Arwen came first, followed closely by Glorfindel and Erestor. Lindir gasped quietly as he marked the advisor. He looked so beautifully noble in his robes and with his head adorned with a small mithril circlet. It was of course not as elaborate as the diadem that Lord Elrond wore; yet it was a symbol of Erestor’s high office and importance. Lindir felt his heart skip a beat as he moved further back into the shadows. The terrible feeling of remorse was creeping back as he beheld that which he had been denied.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Estel had arrived in the Hall and was in the midst of reciting a song with Bilbo when Erestor finally located Lindir. The Elf had been looking on, seemingly enchanted by the hobbit’s efforts. He did not even see the advisor approaching him. Erestor stepped up beside him and spoke quietly, close to the other’s ear.

“May I steal you away for one moment?” He whispered.

Lindir’s head whipped around at the sound of the voice, his expression showing his shock and then, as he realised who was speaking, his fear. “Erestor…” He breathed. “I…”

“Hush, you have no need to explain a thing. Just please, come with me…”

He took a loose grip on Lindir’s arm, guiding him away from the others. They stepped back slowly, circling a great stone pillar and coming to rest behind it, obscured from the rest of the room. The younger Elf looked wracked with guilt as Erestor attempted to meet his gaze. His grey eyes fell and his brow furrowed.

“Lindir, please. Do not feel as though you have done something wrong.”

“I have, Erestor. I acted out of turn and I wish to apologise for offending you.”

The advisor had to bite back a smile. Lindir’s sincerity touched his heart, yet he did not wish to show him that it was a cause for mirth.

“It is I who should be apologising. I should not have departed with such haste.”

“I do not blame you for doing so. I… I kissed you. It was intrusive and impolite.”

Erestor reached out and enclosed Lindir’s cool hands in his own warmer flesh. The younger Elf finally raised his eyes and they held one another’s gaze for a moment.

“Then you shall have to forgive me once again,” Erestor said softly. “For now I shall act out of turn and be impolite.”

And with that he leaned his face forward, tentatively closing his lips upon Lindir’s in a gentle kiss. The other Elf pulled back, slightly startled, yet Erestor persisted, reassuring him. Lindir questioningly returned the kiss, his mouth nipping slightly at his companion’s. He soon realised that Erestor was not playing a game with him, and their kiss deepened. The advisor grazed his tongue along Lindir’s bottom lip and the Elf sighed into him, mouth opening just enough to accommodate the warm invasion. For long moments they explored one another, hands raising to cup faces and tangle into dark hair. It was only when the sound of Lord Elrond’s voice was heard that they pulled back, each breathlessly fixing their eyes upon the other.

“Seek Erestor. We must go to my study immediately.”

The Lord and Glorfindel were walking towards the doors of the Hall, obviously departing on an urgent errand. Erestor looked at Lindir apologetically. He reached forward and placed one final kiss upon the startled Elf’s lips before stepping out of the shadows and making himself known.

“What news, my Lord?” He asked.

“Elladan and Elrohir have returned,” Elrond replied.

“So soon? But they are not yet due…”

“Precisely, my friend. Come, we must take counsel with them.”

As Erestor was ushered away from the joviality, he heard Lindir’s voice rising clearly above the applause that was being gifted upon Estel and Bilbo.

“Now we had better have it again,” He said.

“I am flattered, Lindir,” Bilbo replied. “But it would be too tiring to repeat it all.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The counsellors knew that the duration of the Great Council would not be brief. There was much to be told and heard, so the bell was rung early that morning. Chairs were arranged in a semi-circle upon a secluded terrace on the east side of the house. The early morning sun warmed the assembled group as a hushed murmur lilted above their heads. At the head of the circle sat Lord Elrond and to his left, Erestor. The advisor was quiet as he scrutinised the occupants of the seats before him. He was dressed in a slate grey tunic and black robes, hair hanging loose as always, save for his mithril circlet. He hated to wear it, but times of duty called for a formal symbol of his status. He was a high counsellor and as such wielded a certain power at this council. Yet he felt not like speaking. It seemed to him that all of the doubt that he had been feeling in the lead up to this day had re-emerged, manifesting itself in a tightening of his stomach. It was not just Erestor that was feeling this way, for a great tension hung over the whole group.

The morning dragged relentlessly on. Tales were recounted and revelations made, many of which told of things that had been long since forgotten. The Man of the south seemed awe struck to hear of the fate of Isildur and the One Ring. Even the Elves were intrigued at the mention of Iarwain Ben-adar, whom Frodo named Bombadil, for he had been lost even in the ancient minds of the firstborn. This in particular sparked interest in Erestor and he suggested that they request his aid. Mithrandir was unenthusiastic, however. Slowly, it occurred to Erestor that the outcome of the debate was becoming clearer, yet he could not see the sense in it. When Elrond finally confirmed his suspicions, he felt as though he had been kicked. The air left his lungs as his Lord’s clear, assured voice announced that the Ring had to be taken to the Fire. The memories of Mordor and Orodruin flashed back into his mind again and he shuddered. He could not imagine who would be fit for the task. When the hobbit nominated himself, it seemed to Erestor that the world about him came to a halt. He turned to Elrond, his face wrought with an expression of complete doubt. The Lord looked upon him calmly, and the advisor did not need to hear words to understand. This was a matter that they could no longer deal with. The Ring was out of their hands and the fate of all depended upon this unassuming halfling. The decision was made.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The sun had dipped below the hills and the stars were slowly coming out. Erestor pulled his cloak about his body as he walked out of the house. He was going towards a particular pavilion where he knew that the Elves sometimes liked to gather. There was not to be a gathering in the Hall of Fire that night, for the mood in Imladris was sombre. News had quickly travelled and almost all were now aware of the outcome of the Council to some extent. It did not seem fitting to be merry-making when so great a task now loomed over nine of their number.

The Elf moved noiselessly over the path, the cool night air playing with strands of his raven coloured hair. He could see the lights of the small lanterns that illuminated his destination, hear the soft sound of Elvish voices. For the first time that day he felt comforted. He stepped up to where the others were sat, acknowledging Lindir with a warm smile as he joined them. They were singing the song of Elbereth and peace was upon them. When the voices finally faded, Lindir moved to where Erestor was perched upon a step. The older Elf stood and the pair sought some privacy.

“It is unusual indeed to see you here,” Lindir said.

“I suspected that I would find you here, seeing as though the Hall is empty tonight,” Erestor replied. “I am sorry that I had to leave so suddenly last night.”

Lindir blushed slightly as he recalled their last meeting. “It is no matter, I understand your duty. I have been eager to see you all day, for I would like to hear from you what came to pass at the Council.”

“Have you not heard the whispers about the house today?”

“Aye, but it is mostly hearsay and I am not so concerned. I wish to know how you fared rather than to sate my own curiosity.”

They walked on a little further with small steps, taking their time to enjoy the night. They were close to the river and could hear the constant crashing of the fast running water upon the rocks. Insects chirruped, taking place of the song that had silenced since the birds went to roost. At length, Erestor began to tell his tale. He recounted the stories of Mithrandir and Bilbo, told of the omen of the Man’s dream and spoke of Iarwain Ben-adar, much to Lindir’s fascination. A few times the younger Elf asked Erestor if he was certain that he should be telling him such things, but the counsellor was adamant. He said that he cared not about what he was supposed to do, for he trusted Lindir and thought that he had a right to know.

“It is true then, the hobbit will bear the Ring,” Lindir said when Erestor had finished his tale.

“I am afraid so,” The advisor replied.

“You need not sound so pessimistic. Surely Lord Elrond’s certainty encourages you?”

Erestor sighed, his eyes falling down to the Bruinen. He looked into the depths of the rushing water, seemingly lost in his thoughts for a moment.

“I have seen Mordor, Lindir. I have known the fear of marching into the realm of the Dark Lord and I bore no such trinket. I am afraid not only for the hobbit, but for the future of Arda.”

Lindir turned to him and took his hand. “I too feel your fear, but I am also hopeful. The Ring-bearer has been chosen for a purpose and this thought comforts me. What shall be shall be. There is little that you or I or even the most powerful can do to change that. The most that we can do is have hope.”

“Where do you find this hope?”

“While it is true that much darkness has grown in this world, I see yet the beauty beneath. I shall have faith for as long as I know that I am not alone.”

Erestor looked up, knowing in his heart what Lindir was saying. The younger Elf stepped forward and embraced him. They curved perfectly into one another, savouring the contact for long moments. Lindir’s hand rubbed Erestor’s back in small, soft circles. He shifted his head from the advisor’s shoulder and moved into a slow, gentle kiss.

“You shall not be alone,” Erestor whispered when they broke apart.

Lindir smiled, brushing the hair away from the other Elf’s face. “Why did you wait so long?” He asked.

Erestor laughed softly. “I might ask the same question of you, but I would rather think about the time that we shall now have rather than to mourn that which we have lost.”

Without another word, he took Lindir’s hand in his own and led him back to the house. So they went, two tall figures moving through the night. One clad in black and the other in green, identical dark hair shining under the moonlight and a torrent of emotion raging in both. They reached Erestor’s chamber and, still silent, moved to the bed. They bound themselves together in a tight embrace, limbs entangled. Erestor’s final barrier broke down as Lindir made love to him. A few stray tears fell in silver streaks down his face and Lindir kissed the moist tracks away with gentle touches of his lips to the pale cheeks. Comforting words were whispered before an inquisitive tongue trailed along the edge of one elegantly pointed ear. Erestor shivered, pressing his slender body closer to Lindir’s.

They moved together upon their moonlit bed as the night above them left dusk behind. They sang their joy to the stars and by the time that dawn came creeping into the valley in swathes of red and gold, had vowed their undying love.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Erestor was awoken a little after dawn, a trail of soft kisses being branded on his skin. Lindir stroked his face tenderly and whispered a few words to him. The brown eyes opened to welcome the sight of the Elf in front of them.

“Come,” Lindir said. “There is something that I wish for you to see.”

The advisor sat up, stretching his tense muscles. Lindir was already pulling on his clothes and threw Erestor’s leggings and tunic to him. When they were clothed, the younger Elf sat down and combed his fingers through the other’s hair, pulling a small section taut on one side of his head. He began to braid it, much to Erestor’s surprise.

“I never wear braids, I prefer my hair loose.”

“I know, but as of today you may consider yourself truly bound.”

Erestor smiled as Lindir completed his task and began on the other side. When they were ready, they left the Last Homely House and began a slow trek along the winding roads that led out of Imladris. They did not follow them the whole way, but came to a halt at a secluded clearing along the track that provided a magnificent view of the valley. It was still early morning and the sun was raining down in hazy beams upon their home. For a long time they remained silent, merely enjoying the solitude.

“The beauty that is beneath,” Lindir finally breathed.

Erestor turned to him and placed one large hand upon his face.

“My hope,” He replied, reading compassion in the depths of his beloved’s eyes.

“Why did you shed tears last night?”

“Because I was overwhelmed. Sometimes this world is too much to bear.”

Lindir did not reply, though Erestor knew that he understood.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Two cycles of the moon passed, no more than the blink of an eye to the Elves. The winter had set in and the Nine Walkers were set to leave Imladris. It was a chill dusk when they assembled to bid them farewell. Lord Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor were present, as well as Lady Arwen, who was greatly saddened to part with Estel. A hush fell upon the Elves of the house as they watched that small band depart. They passed over a bridge and began to make their way out of the valley, soft voices saying their farewells. Lindir could not stand back and watch Erestor suffer in silence. He stepped towards his lover, standing just behind him and taking his hand. The advisor sighed his relief at the contact, for whenever he felt anxiety, that touch was there to comfort him. His hope, everlasting and blind to the apparent impossibility that faced this seemingly powerless fellowship. They watched until the group passed out of sight and, as he saw them go, the hand that gripped Erestor was enough for him to believe that all was not yet lost.

“Fare thee well,” He murmured.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

You rode into Minas Tirith with me, at the end of it all. Much time had passed since we had seen off the fellowship in Imladris, and much evil had come to pass; yet the time now had come for rejoicing. Against all odds the One had been destroyed and Barad-Dûr fell. We had carried on our lives as normal in our little valley home, away from the eyes of the mighty Men who fought for the future of a world that they would inevitably inherit.

Then we found ourselves travelling to the White City with our Lord for the wedding of King Elessar and Arwen Undómiel. Bittersweet were the days then, for all the peace that we saw was not to be ours. The battle that had caused so much concern had been fought and won; yet now the sea was calling and it was time for our kindred to depart. You took my hand as we boarded the ship alongside Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel and we left Arda, an eternal light burning in us as we looked back upon all the beauty that had been. I did not fear to leave it, for I had my hope.

 

End