Summary: Basically this story just came from a random question that popped into my head: Who IS Lindir? Like where did he come from? So I created this to give my own view on who he is ^_^

Warning: This is a slash, with many fluffy moments that might make you explode into rainbows.

Possible Pairings : Elrond/Lindir (main), Erestor/Glorfindel, Elrond/Gil-Galad (maybe), and perhaps just a touch of Thranduil/Legolas.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lotr/Silmarillion/Anything to do with middle earth (other than the OCs I might drop in here and there. But I'm not a big fan of those.)

Standing with tears in his despairing brown eyes, Lindir watched alongside Erestor as elves, clad in armor, wielding bows and swords, marched from their home in Imladris toward Modor, preparing for war with their enemies. Lindir anxiously inspected the dignified faces of each passing elf as he waited for his parents and friends to march past. Almost everyone he knew was leaving for Mordor that day; Glorfindel the brave and renowned warrior, Erenion Gil-Galad- high king of the Noldor, Lord Elrond master of Rivendell, and his parents who were both warriors and heralds to Cidan. He knew that there was a large chance he would never see them again. Of course, he had begged his parents not to leave. He had pleaded at the feet of Gil-Galad to not leave him. But his attempts were futile, for Lindir was fully aware that they had to go to war if they wanted to destroy the evil that plagued them.

The sun was hidden behind the clouds, and a soft rain enveloped the area, perfectly portraying the way everyone was feeling as they watched their loved ones march presumptuously to their deaths. Erestor placed his hand on Lindir's shoulder as he too searched the soldiers to find his best friend, Glorfindel. The two of them had been friends ever since he met Glorfindel during a council in Greenwood. Glorfindel was the exact opposite of Erestor. He was tall, proud, and highly trained in combat. Erestor on the other hand was slightly timid, and hated fighting of any sort, for he preferred being a scholar and assistant to those who needed his help. Tears mingled with rain at the fond memories, further dampening his face and spirit alike. Erestor felt the young boy trembling underneath his touch. Whether it was from the chill of the rain or from the solemness of the situation, Erestor was unsure. But he was certain that this boy was far too young to be experiencing such a sadness. For Lindir had been born amongst a time of turmoil and war. He was just over 50 years old, equivalent to a 14 or 15 year old human teenager, and already he has seen too much death.

Around them, elves sobbed loudly as they said goodbye to their sons and daughters for perhaps the last time. Lindir had already said goodbye to most of his friends and family, but saved his final salute for his dearest of friends. He continued watching the elves, and realized they were just as scared as he was. Oppression was heavy in the air, and the sounds of sadness surrounded and nearly suffocated Lindir's senses.

But finally, Lindir's head perked up at the sight of Erenion Gil-Galad marching proudly beside Lindir's parents, with Glofindel and Elrond close by. Gil-Galad had always been Lindir's best friend, for he looked up to the Elven-King with an awe and fascination like a moth drawn to a flame. Gil (as Lindir called him) had taught him how to wield a sword and how to shoot a bow. All his life, Lindir remembered Gil being by his side at any chance he got. Gil preferred Lindir as well, for he felt the child had unlimited potential. Not with wielding a sword, but instead with dealings of song and music. Yes, Lindir could hit a target with decent accuracy, but he preferred the stings of a harp as opposed to that of a bow. Gil knew how easily Lindir could express his feelings with nothing but a flute or violin. Lindir had wrote a good deal of songs and poetry with Gil, for it was a pastime they loved to partake in. But watching his precious King in full armor, with staff in his hand, made Lindir's heart convulse in fear. Fear of losing his best friend. Of course, Lindir loved his parents as well, but they were hardly around. They had always relied on Elrond and Gil-Galad to care for Lindir when he was an elfling.

Upon approaching where Lindir stood, Gil raised his hand to signal his soldiers to cease their advancement further out of Imladris. He stepped out of line and walked toward a very sad Lindir, and promptly scooped the boy up into his arms, while nearby, Glorfindel approached Erestor and pressed their foreheads together and interlaced their fingertips in what Erestor was convinced was a final goodbye.

"Lindir, I need you to be brave for me." Whispered Gil, clutching the teen in his broad arms. Lindir made a soft whimpery sound as he buried his hands in Gil's cloak, and his face in the long, dark hair of the king. With a gentleness unfitting for such a warrior, Erenion sang one of Lindir's favorite songs. This particular song was composed by Gil himself, and told the importance of a brave heart as well as a powerful sword. He continued the song, attempting to calm the hysterical boy. After Lindir's tears had eventually receded, Gil placed Lindir back on his feet and placed his gloved hands on Lindir's shoulders.

"I'll come back in a few years time. And when I do, I shall teach you how to play a guitar. Is that understood?" Gil-Galad smiled, trying his best to reassure the boy, who simply nodded, allowing his brown hair to cloak his face. Gil sighed softly, placing his fingers under Lindir's chin until their faces were level, before taking the metal circlet from his brow and placed it on Lindir's head, then placing an affectionate kiss to his wet, long brown hair. He smiled one last time before stepping back to allow Lindir's parents to say their own goodbyes. Of course Lindir loved his parents as well, but not as much as he did his king. In the meantime however, just a few feet away, Glorfindel was caught in Erestor's relentless embrace, as sobs shook the scholar's fragile body, and refused to let the golden-haired warrior from his grasp. He had his arms pinned around Glorfindel's back, and had his face buried in the warrior's chest. Glorfindel removed the helmet from his head, and gave up trying to pry Erestor off.

"Erestor, mellon nin, you need not to worry. I have faced many great battles, and have returned fully in tact each time. You fuss over me far to much." Glorfindel whispered against his best-friend's black hair. He felt the grip around his body tighten for a moment, before slacking just a little.

"I know." Erestor choked out, as he completely released the death grip he had on Glorfindel. "Promise me you'll return. I don't know what I'd do without you..." He looked up, staring directly into Glorfindel's eyes.

"I promise. I will never leave you." Smiled Glorfindel, as he bent down and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to Erestor's cheek. Their hands separated reluctantly, and Glofindel began to walk back into formation beside Gil-Galad. But he froze before making it to the line. Instead, he swiftly turned back around, and in one fluid movement, he roughly grabbed hold of Erestor's wrist, and pulled him close, pressing their lips together in their first kiss. He laced his fingers around Erestor's neck, giving better access to his mouth despite the fact that Glorfindel was almost 3-4 inches taller than the scholar. Their lips were gently touching, for they both wished the kiss to be as loving and soft as possible. All the secret love and passion they help for each other was released in this tiny kiss. As soon as they parted, a smile graced both of their faces.

"Good-bye for now, meleth nin." Smiled Glorfindel as he backed away and merged back into the line of war-ready Elves. Erestor was far too flustered to form any sort of comprehensible sentence, so he simply nodded and brought his fingers up to his lips, touching where Glorfindel had just been moments before. 'I love you' he mouthed silently.

As Lindir's parents also returned to the line, Elrond began to hesitantly approach Lindir, nodding softly. Lindir looked up at the lord with a slight frown, remembering all too well the hatred he once experienced for the elf. For 20 years ago, when Lindir was no more than 30, equivalent to a 7 year old human child, Elrond had caused the death of Lindir's older brother. At the time, Lindir was convinced Elrond had practically ruined his life.

-Flashback-

It had been a regular summer day in Imladris, and Lindir's older brother Dimaethor (meaning 'Silent Warrior') had prepared for his first scouting mission. He had just turned 100 years, and was deemed old enough to begin real training. Dimaethor had chosen Elrond to be his teacher, and it was the first time Dimaethor had been allowed outside Rivendell. So alongside Lord Elrond and a small group of others, Dimaethor rode out just past the borders of Imladris to sweep for orcs. Elrond had not been prepared for the horde of orcs that ambushed their small group, consisting of 7 mostly inexperienced elves. The orcs were merciless, quickly tearing through and killing off the elves with ease, leaving Elrond and Dimaethor by themselves. Elrond used his bow, taking out most of the orcs. But Dimaethor had been struck early on by an arrow, and fell just after the slaying of the last orc. Elrond held the dying boy in his arms, as the young elf sobbed in pain in fear. Dimaethor died in Elrond's arms, who looked around at the maimed elf and orc corpses that surrounded him. Guilt began to rip through his body, and for the first time in a couple hundred years, Elrond cried, lifting up the dead elf.

Upon arriving back at Rivendell with a dead Dimaethor, Elrond was greeted with the utterly horrified eyes of Lindir, whom had been eagerly awaiting the return of his brother. After Dimaethor was given to his parents, Lindir repeatedly beat on Elrond's chest, screaming and sobbing horribly. He felt betrayed by Elrond. It was a feeling he had never experienced before.

-End Flashback-

In the time leading up to his brother's death, Lindir had admired Elrond with a passion that far surpassed the adoration he felt for Gil-Galad. Elrond had been like a second father to him, and had been the elf who discovered Lindir's passion for music and poems.

But ever since that day, Lindir had only interacted with Elrond only when it was absolutely necessary, and made sure Elrond knew of his hatred by hissing "I hate you" whenever Elrond passed by.

But here he was, prepared to go to war, dressed in his armor with Hadafang tucked away in it's sheath at Elrond's hip. His hair was messily braided. It was obvious whenever Elrond had tried to braid his own hair (for he is utterly terrible at such tasks). Lindir looked down in shame when Elrond kneeled down and placed a beautifully decorated flute in his hands. He took the flute, and gently ran his fingers over the wooden patterns that were delicately carved into the flute. There were pictures of flowers, vines, and birds all beautifully intertwined together in an intricate design. At the very base of the flute, Lindir's name was written in gold with very gentle strokes.

Lindir recognized the handwriting as Elrond's, and interpreted the flute as a peace offering and an ask of his forgiveness before he head off on his way. But at the very thought of losing his Elrond, Lindir began to cry for the umpteenth time that day.

With Large eyes, he looked up at his Lord, who smiled sadly while looking into his eyes. He was then filled with guilt. It was at that moment when he understood how guilty Elrond had undeniably felt when he held Dimaethor as he died. And the fact that he had ignored him after they had been so close, made Lindir feel awe at the emotional strength held by the Lord.

Lindir clutched the flute to his chest and then jumped forward, wrapping his arms around Elrond's shoulders. Lindir pressed his face into the crook of Elrond's neck, breathing in the calming, rustic scent which he missed all too dearly.

"I'm so sorry." Whispered Lindir, almost inaudibly. He buried his fingertips in Elrond's poorly braided hair, and felt his Lord sink with relief into the embrace. "I'm so sorry. I don't hate you. I never could."

Elrond then pulled back, then smiled softly. "I take it all is forgiven then?"

Lindir nodded quickly and softly added. "Of course, my Lord. But I will never forgive you if you don't come back."

Elrond smiled, and stood up again, regaining his posture. "I don't plan on dying today, nor any day soon, Lindir." Lindir nodded, a grin traced across his lips. Elrond kissed Lindir on the temple, and began to walk away. And with one final glance toward Lindir, Elrond took up his position between Glorfindel and Gil-Galad. Gil lifted his hand up in a waving manner, and also shared a farewell smile with Lindir. And with that, the line army of elves continued toward Mordor. Lindir stared at the flute in his hands and brought it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the wood, promising to master the instrument by the time Elrond returned. He then looked at the cloudy sky and prayed to the Valar to bring back his parents, Lord, and King back safely. They stood there for a few more hours, watching the last of the warriors file out of the valley. And finally with Erestor by his side, Lindir retreated back into the safety of Elrond's house.

Aaaaand that's the end of Chapter one ^_^ Plz review and tell me what you think. Was it too weird? Too long? Too short? I will gratefully accept your opinions. Thank you very much for reading!

IMPORTANT: I'm also taking requests to what other pairings you guys would like to see. Give me anything. I'll write whatever the heck you guys want.