'Come on, sleepy-head, time to shift your lovely backside.'

Glorfindel patted said backside until its owner grumbled softly and wriggled back against him.

'Not quite what I had in mind, penneth. Come along, stir yourself.'

'Must I?' The dark haired beauty rolled over and blinked soft grey eyes at him.

'Sorry, yes. Breakfast in an hour, and you need to be in your own room in order to leave it again…'

'But, Findel, everyone knows about us, they've known for ages…'

'I know, Mel.' Glorfindel sighed and ran an affectionate hand down Melpomaen's arm. 'But them knowing we're bed-friends and working out which nights we actually share a bed are entirely different. Besides, if people knew, really knew, they'd start to pair us off in their minds. And that wouldn't do you any favours, would it? Not long-term.'

It was Melpomaen's turn to sigh. He sat up in the bed, covers falling down to reveal beautiful, soft skin with an olive tint; unusual, in a Noldo, but then, there was much about Mel that was out of the ordinary. He had taken over Rivendell's healing duties when Elrond had Sailed, and supplemented the existing body of knowledge with a mixture of traditional human cures and Silvan lore passed on to him by various visitors to the Valley. In addition, he was a skilled craftsperson, making beautiful miniature trees from twisted wire and semi-precious gemstones, he was fascinated by all things that grew and, most importantly to Glorfindel's mind, he had a kind and generous heart to match his strong, firm young body.

He was also, poor soul, in love with Lindir, but it seemed unlikely the Valley's talented minstrel would ever love him back; Lindir had fallen for a human female who lived far down in the south some twenty years before, and as if it wasn't bad enough that the woman was only likely to live for a handful of decades, she had also, in Lindir's absence and unaware of his feelings, apparently married someone more appropriate to her station and had a son. So Lindir was pining, Melpomaen was pining for Lindir, and Glorfindel was pining for his forever love on the far side of the Sundering Seas and trying not to mope for someone a little more recent in his past and a little nearer to home… he and Mel had at least found some consolation in each other's arms, though perhaps it was not what either of them really needed…

With a shake of his lovely hair, Mel slid from the bed, exposing his sleek body and perfectly rounded buttocks. Glorfindel bit his lip. Their arrangement was quite specific; each would come to the other's bed at need, for company or cuddling, love-making or just solace. But once morning came, there was never any repeat of passion, for that could have turned them from bed-friends into something more, and although they both, from time to time, teased the other about it, flaunting a little or allowing the covers to slip away, it felt important, somehow, not to cross this self-imposed and mutually-agreed line. It was hard, though, looking at the gently jiggling glories so presented to him and not reaching out…

Glorfindel tried to think of the most unromantic thing possible, frowning as he concentrated.

'Findel? Are you all right?' Melpomaen asked, catching sight of the scowl.

'What? Yes, fine, just wondering when those Galadhrim are likely to get here, you know what they're like, worse than Silvans for sitting in the trees twittering. Worse even than squirrels.'

Mel laughed.

'Well, it's not your responsibility to find them nuts, yes? That's Erestor's job.'

'True enough. At least these days all I have to do is sit there and flex my muscles occasionally. Listen to the stories about how wonderful this chap Glorfindel was way back in Gondolin and pretend it was me… and even that's not so often these days…'

The young Noldo came back to the bed, reached out to trace the pattern of old scarring on Glorfindel's chest.

'I know the stories say the Valar sent you back like this so nobody would doubt your courage, nor fail to honour you for your suffering, but why do you think it was? Really?'

'Really?' It was a delaying tactic, they both knew it, for the walk from one bedroom to the other, although only a couple of corridors away, always felt as if it took them away from something special. Today, Glorfindel allowed the pause. 'It was because my fëa never healed from it, I think. I was scarred like this in Mandos – worse, in fact, to start with. I saw Thel there, of course, and he bore the marks of his last battle… before you say it, yes, he drowned, but not before he'd taken some serious wounds; why do you think he head-butted Gothmog if not because he couldn't use his sword arm? Well. We talked a lot, of course, spent time together, not that you really notice time passing there… and his scars faded almost to nothing, and mine lightened a bit. When I was re-embodied, I was like this – not nearly as marred as I seemed in Mandos, but still…'

He took Mel's hand in his, gave it a gentle squeeze.

'It's all right; they don't hurt. It just makes a bit of a contrast between what everyone sees when I'm dressed, and what you get to see. I'm not shy, of course, just… the excuses to strip off are really very far and few these days. Now. Shift yourself, sweet Mel! Or we'll have some explaining to do!'

They met again in the main hall where breakfast these days was an informal affair.

Elrond had sailed three years after the end of the War of the Ring, and now, some fifteen or so years on from then, Elladan and Elrohir had established a less formal way of running things. Not that their father had ever been anything other than the perfect host, but he had been quite strict on matters of who sat where in the hall. Now his high backed chair on its dais at the top table was empty. For some time after Lord Elrond's departure, a sign had been attached saying 'Position Vacant', presumably put there by Glorfindel since in the twins' opinion, there was no position to be filled.

In fact, Imladris was ticking over quite nicely in the opinion of not only those who lived there, but those who were frequent visitors too. Occasionally, guests from Lórien arrived and bemoaned the loss of standards, but generally speaking even the Galadhrim approved the change of leadership.

Elladan had yet to marry, but seemed unconcerned in general about his bachelorhood. Talk was that he had fallen in love with someone quite inappropriate, and had decided to stay single rather than lower the standards expected of the son of Elrond. Elrohir, on the other hand, had confounded everyone by not only binding himself to a Silvan, but to a Silvan ellon at that, and while the only elf who had minded was Elrond, it still drew shocked whispers from visiting humans who somehow never found themselves invited back; even the legendary hospitality of Imladris did have its limits.

This morning a smaller group than usual gathered for breakfast; Elrohir and his husband Rusdir were away, having left a few weeks so earlier on a visit to Rusdir's honour-sister and nephews in the still-new Northern Palace complex in the Greenwood; the Silvan's brother had died during the War of the Ring, and Rusdir tried to get back as often as he could to see his remaining kin. The dark of the year was approaching, and with it Yule, and the Silvan Night of the Names, where the dead were honoured and their names spoken, and so it was an important time for the family to be together.

With them they had taken a letter and six bottles of honey beer, a gift from Glorfindel to Commander Triwathon, the leader of the palace garrison. It was this Triwathon whom Glorfindel was trying not to mope over, for once they had been lovers, in love, but always knowing their love would be fleeting; although freed from his vows, Glorfindel still insisted that he would one day return to Ecthelion, his forever-love waiting in Valinor. And besides, Triwathon was far too young for Glorfindel to feel it fair to tie him down to a relationship that really would go nowhere.

So what had once been an intense, passionate love affair had faded to well-wishing, semi-formal notes exchanged at New Year and gifts at Yule; there had been visits, at first, but then Triwathon grew busy with his new posting and Glorfindel had felt able to smile and let the visits dwindle and stop and tell himself it was really, truly, over, that the affair had run its course and served its purpose. And with every night Mel spent in his bed, or he in Melpomaen's, it felt more and more as if it really was the case.

Crossing the breakfast hall, Glorfindel took his place between Erestor and Lindir with a smile and a nod to both. Beyond Erestor sat Arveldir, formerly advisor to the Elvenking, Thranduil, but who had fallen in love with Erestor and at last had been able to marry him and retire to Imladris where he helped his husband keep things running smoothly.

Elladan entered the hall, moving slowly to accommodate the silver-haired ellon whose arm he supported; Celeborn, the twins' maternal grandfather, had not sailed with others of his kin but had stayed on for a time in dwindling Lórien and then come north to Rivendell; he had not adapted well to life after his wife Galadriel had sailed, and now needed help and care to get safely through his days. But he showed no resentment for his loss of vigour, being calmly grateful for such service as he required, drinking perhaps too deeply of the good, red wines in the hopes of soothing the sorrow of his fëa.

Lindir rose from his place to greet the former Lord of Lórien, taking over from Elladan and leading Celeborn to his place while Melpomaen set food and drink for him; generally, Mel and Lindir were responsible for most of the silver-haired Sinda's care during the day, while his grandsons saw him to bed and helped him rise in the mornings.

Glorfindel smiled sadly. He understood something of grief and loneliness, and had an idea of how much loss the old lord had suffered; his daughter so badly injured she could not recover but had to sail, his granddaughter wedded to a mortal, his wife departed for the West…

Whereas Glorfindel had just lost everything, and everyone, all at the same time and had returned to Middle Earth to find the world reshaped and all the people, everyone, everything he had known and loved gone. But it had been different, somehow; he had been reborn in a strong, young body and although it had been difficult, he had not, at least, had to sit and watch everything he had built crumble slowly to ruin around him.

Mel caught his eye and smiled back. He pressed his hands gently onto Celeborn's shoulders.

'There, my lord, will you have me help you this morning? Or would you prefer Lindir's company?'

Celeborn looked curiously into Mel's face for a moment, bringing up a hand to touch the young ellon's cheek with an empty smile.

'So kind,' he murmured. 'So fair.'

'No, let me take a turn today,' Elladan said, taking a seat. 'Here, Daerada, there is some of the tea that you like… let me help you…'

Melpomaen slid into an empty space opposite and a little way along from Glorfindel; it meant he could both talk to his friend and glance at Lindir from time to time without attracting too much notice.

'It is so sad to see,' he said softly. 'Celeborn is not well, but nor is he ill in any way that I can help with; as Lórien has faded, so has he. Really, we should try to get him to the Havens and onto a ship; it would be the best thing for him…'

'It's about the only question he gives a determined answer to, however,' Erestor said. 'We have asked in many ways, and many times, will you sail, Lord Celeborn? Would not you like to see your daughter once more, your wife? And he always says no, he will not, no, not yet…' Erestor lifted a hand and let it fall, exasperated. 'It is the only thing that will help him and yet… have we the right to force that decision on him when he seems so determined to stay?'

'Personally, I think it would be wrong for many reasons,' Glorfindel said. 'He has so few choices left it would be cruel to take the last one away from him. And he may have good reasons to want to stay, things he can no longer put into words…'

Erestor glanced along the table. Elladan had gone to the side tables and was asking the servers something, out of earshot.

'Elrond should never have left,' the advisor said in quiet tones. 'Yes, the power of the Valley was beginning to fade, and it showed, even then, and I understand he had no wish to witness its demise further. And Arwen, I know he didn't want to stay and see her age and die. But that does not diminish the fact that he ran away. The Valley felt abandoned by him, as well it might, and so we are left to nurse it into its new phase of life, or sit with it while it dies, along with his honour-father while he goes swanning off across the sea to be reunited with his wife…'

Arveldir cleared his throat; it was unlike Erestor to be so very bitter, and even rarer for him to speak openly about his feelings for his former lord and employer.

'Let us console ourselves with the knowledge that the reception Elrond will receive from his wife, given all that has since transpired and which, no doubt, has provided the inhabitants of Valinor with many interesting stories and much gossip, is hardly likely to be warm and companionable,' he said.

Glorfindel hid a grin. He had liked Celebrian and knew that under a genteel exterior and lively sense of humour, she had a way with words to make your hair curl, even if you were a straight-tressed peredhel with Noldo blood… and Elrond's behaviour had become increasingly disappointing; he had patronised his daughter to the point where she had been driven to passive-aggressive crochet, had taken a lover and then abandoned him somewhat callously… and thereafter been utterly opposed to any mention of same-sex relationships manifesting in the valley, causing considerable heartache for several of the inhabitants of Rivendell and necessitating various sneaky tactics from others…

Eventually Elrond had mellowed, but only, really, because he'd had to, the weight of opinion being against him and the disclosure that one of his sons preferred ellyn making it impossible for him to continue to protest.

Really, when one thought of it like that, it wasn't surprising Elrond had wanted to leave the Valley…

It was just the sense that he had abandoned his daughter, too, that rankled; he could easily have gone to Gondor for a few years, but no. Instead he had run away to the West leaving, oh, look, Erestor and Glorfindel to take care of his family for him. As usual.

To be fair, that was Glorfindel's job. He had died helping Eärendil, Elrond's father, escape the ruin of Gondolin, and when he had been sent back, it was in order to support Elrond as he strove to bring order to Middle Earth and establish a safe haven for Elvenkind against the welling darkness. The Lord of Imladris hadn't been all bad, and apart from one or two foibles, had a reputation for wisdom and healing unsurpassed in the region.

'You look pensive,' Melpomaen said, refilling Glorfindel's cup with the spiced tea served at breakfast in the cold months. 'Is there anything wrong?'

'Hmm? No, just thinking… I don't suppose you've heard yet when those Galadhrim are expected?'

'Are you still worrying about them?' Mel laughed. 'No, I haven't heard.'

'In fact, not worrying now at all. They might be good company for Celeborn, that's all. Maybe do him good, wake him up a bit, poor fellow.'

'It is distressing to see him so diminished… although I have only known him on his visits here…'

'Yes, well, in his day he could wave a sword and yell a battle cry with the best of them. Stories tell he and Oropher used to spar together, that it was only after Oropher lost a practice bout to him that he started fighting with two swords… Oh, and that Oropher taught Celeborn to crochet… those are not the stories they tell in the Greenwood, of course, so keep it to yourself…'

The youngster laughed. 'If ever I meet any Silvans again, I'll be careful. Not that I think it's likely; I rather feel the only journey I will make now will be the one to the Havens.' He sighed. 'I used to think I would like to travel…'

'Well, you never know, Mel; you may see one or two places yet before you sail.'

The expected company of Galadhrim arrived late in the afternoon, just nice timing to unpack and visit the hot spring bathing rooms and get changed before supper, as Elladan remarked to Glorfindel, making the seneschal laugh.

'Yes, perfectly judged! I reckon, if we were to ask around, we might even find that they stopped off in one of the taverns, so as to arrive once the day's work was over…'

'Daerada saw them arrive, he was so pleased! I heard him saying names under his breath; Haldir, Rúmil, Orophin… I know them, of course, met them when 'Dan and I would ride escort for Arwen.'

'The three brothers, yes. I didn't see them in the party?'

'That's the sad thing; they're not here. I think they already sailed.'

There were almost a score of the visitors, and when everyone sat down to supper, Glorfindel found himself feeling the elves of Imladris were uncomfortably outnumbered. Suddenly, he missed Elrohir and his laughing Silvan husband. Without them, somehow, the hall felt diminished.

Knowing his preferences, Erestor had done his best to seat Glorfindel where he wouldn't have to make conversation with too many strangers; placed next to Mel and with the empty seat formerly occupied by Elrond on his other side, there was only the person opposite who needed including in the conversation, so it wasn't too much of an effort. The Galadhrim had been introduced as Pelilastor, and responded politely to Glorfindel's social efforts.

'Yes, it was a long journey; for myself, I have not travelled outside our borders before and so many things were new to me. Yet it was sad to see marks of destruction still in the landscape; the earth is slow to heal such wounds, it seems.'

'I know; it's been a sad time. Everything's starting to come back, though. Except for the Valley, which is changing, of course.'

'Fading, they say, as our own sweet Lórien fades…' Pelilastor sighed. 'As is our lord, it seems.'

'Yes, well, what do you expect, he tries to hold on and you abandon him and go running off to…' Glorfindel broke off, shaking his head. 'Sorry. I doubt it was your fault. Even if you were there, which I don't know, of course.'

'No more than it was your fault that Isildur did not destroy the Ring of Power when it first came to him. Even though you were there, which is a matter of record.'

'Point taken. Sorry, it's just… sad.'

Pelilastor nodded.

'On that we can agree, Lord Glorfindel; it is very sad.'

Next morning, once Glorfindel had talked Asfaloth into going for a ride – the horse was beginning to feel his age and sometimes only wanted the comfort of his stall – they set off for a gentle amble along the valley trail. It was one of those cold, winter-bright mornings and frost crisped the landscape, making plumes of their breath, so that Glorfindel fancied he was riding a dragon. A tame, friendly dragon, unlike those he had encountered in the past, obviously…

The bells on Asfaloth's harness tinkled as they meandered along the trail and the terrain changed from manicured garden to woodland, the deciduous trees skeletal and naked against the dark greens of the needle-clad pines.

'Well met!' a voice sang out from the branches of an almost-denuded oak. 'A fine day, is not it?'

Glorfindel reined in close to the occupied tree and grinned. Pelilastor was sitting on one of the lower branches, just a little higher than the seneschal's eye level.

'Good morning,' he said. 'Enjoying the valley? Are your friends with you, or…?'

'Some were, earlier. I lingered. Then the trees told me someone was heading this way and I decided to wait and see whom it was. I am glad it is you.'

'I'm flattered… that is, I think I am flattered…'

The Galadhrim laughed.

'Nay, do not be anxious! I merely…' He tilted his head to once side, eyeing Glorfindel as if weighing him up. 'You were on the point of being outrageously outspoken at supper last night.'

'I suppose I was. Did I apologise? I thought I had…'

'Indeed, you did. I mention it because… it is rare, I think, for one such as you to be so swiftly moved to anger. It suggests to me that you care deeply for our lord and so how can I be offended when you merely point out what might have caused his diminishment? Instead, I would ask – how may I help him?'

'That's easy; spend time with him. Talk to him about the old days, the people and places you might have shared. Take it slow, smile a lot, wait for him to hear you; it's as if he's muffled, somehow, and it can take a while for things to sink in. He's not – he's not simple, or anything, you understand. He's still all there, just… it's as if… he's a bit like Rivendell is now; most of the rooms are unoccupied, so one by one, we shut down a corridor or a wing. That's like Celeborn; he's shut down most of the rooms of himself as the people that were in them with him have left.'

'And so, just as you may have reopened rooms for visitors, so he may open more of himself if he has new companionship?'

'Talking about people he knew, he likes that. It's even better if they're people who aren't dead yet.'

'Tell me, if you will, if it is not an impertinence; why have you not sailed, Glorfindel? When Elrond left, would that not have been a good time?'

'It might, except I don't think shutting me up on a boat with Elrond for up to a month is a good idea…' Glorfindel grinned. 'It wasn't time yet. I came back to serve the line of Eärendil, and that meant Elrond, yes. But it also means his children; while Arwen is here… and then, after, I need to make sure the lads are all right – Elladan and Elrohir, I mean.'

'But if you were not here, would not someone else do that?'

'Probably. But why should they?' Glorfindel shook his head. 'No, Elrohir will be all right, I think – he's married, and if anything will ground you, it's being with your forever-love… Elladan… I worry about him, a little. Still. When the time comes, that's time enough to think about such things. And I don't mind; I've been around for so long now that what's another century or two? We're elves, after all, it's just a little delay… Well. I need to get Asfaloth back to the stables, will you walk with me?'

'Yes, I will walk back with you. But when my friends leave for the Havens, I will stay and bear my lord Celeborn company. I will try, also, to persuade those close to me that it would be an honourable thing to do, to try to cheer him. Perhaps one day he might wish to take ship, and we can escort him in honour then; a few years delay is nothing.' He smiled and inclined his head. 'After all, we are elves, are we not?'