As Glorfindel departed Dûnereg, the long-home of his dear friend, Erestor, and his beloved husband, Celebrimbor, he found himself smiling at how perfectly happy the two were. All the time he'd known Erestor in Imladris, he could count on one hand the times he'd heard a genuine laugh from the Chief Counselor. That night, through dinner and dessert, Erestor had laughed freely and openly, warmly and affectionately. It was a testament to the healing power of the western lands and Glorfindel was truly happy for the two lovers. It all reminded him how glad he was to be home to Aman.
He had to admit to himself that he was slightly disappointed to have missed Erestor's wedding to the erstwhile Lord of Eregion. It had to have been a poignant day, celebrating the immortality of true love, but he understood why Erestor would not want to wait even a moment more to have the union of their fëar known publicly and officially.
Of course, it seemed that all and sundry, from Ost-in-Edhil to Mithlond to Khazad-dûm and even beyond the mountains, were well aware of their union, but Erestor was ever one for things being by-the-book and formal. When he thought of it, he realized that Erestor had never even referred to Celebrimbor as his husband until now. Surely, any other who endured the sundering of a joined fëa would have ceased making such a distinction.
If Glorfindel were honest, he had long been somewhat envious of Erestor. Despite the long, painful, fretful years he'd been separated from his beloved, Erestor yet knew such a depth and strength of love as Glorfindel had no way of imaging. Many times he'd wondered if it was so that there were some Elves who were fated not to know love. Or perhaps it was only in Endor, where peril was all but constant, that love eluded some.
Glorfindel walked back along the path toward the woodland that encircled Tirion, wondering if he would find Ecthelion still in the clearing where he'd come across him upon his arrival from the quayside. The scent of the woods was comforting and fresh, rich with cedar and moss and those herbaceous blue flowers. It was lovely, of course, but not the scents he always associated with his memories of Ecthelion, which tended to be the sweet grasses of Tumladen, the bright, clear, splashing water that lent its name to the House of the Fountain, and the divine fragrance of the Alley of Roses.
From somewhere in the trees behind him came a soft laugh and Glorfindel turned, only to find the very one he was seeking, standing by a tree with his flute in hand and a certain mischief sparkling in his eyes.
"I wondered would you walk right by me," Ecthelion snickered.
"You were stood behind a tree," Glorfindel contended, crossing his arms and rather forgetting that he was now wearing robes with deep sleeves instead of the simple tunic and leggings he'd had on when he arrived earlier. "And you weren't playing. I thought to follow your music if I was to find you here again."
"In other words, you did not think to remember the way back to the clearing," Ecthelion summarized with a smirk. "I would also wager that you have enjoyed several glasses of wine and at least some cordial, for you are now dressed as to look like you have just come from dinner at Dûnereg. I think never has one departed that house in sobriety. Well, I have not yet taken my evening repast and was just on my way. You are welcome to join me, of course, if you like. Let us walk back to the city together. Do you know where you will be staying whiles you establish your home?"
Ecthelion hooked his arm with Glorfindel's and they set off together, much as they had often done in Gondolin. For a moment, Glorfindel found himself cast back to those famed days of yore and scarcely noticed that he had been asked a question. Perhaps Ecthelion was correct and he had imbibed more than he realized in Erestor and Celebrimbor's company.
"Forgive me, old friend, I think you may have it. My thoughts are somewhat hazy," Glorfindel said. "I don't suppose I'd really given it much thought where I'd be staying. Surely there are lodgings about the city?"
Ecthelion shook his head and moved his arm to wrap round Glorfindel's shoulders. "Lodgings! You foolish Elf!" he laughed. "You shall stay with me, of course, as long as you shall like."
Glorfindel looked over at his friend with a slight shake of his head. "That's not necessary, Eithel. I'm sure -"
"Need it be necessary for the invitation to stand, Mallos? Come, we have such a lot of catching up to do! You might as well stay with me, for all the time we've got to cover."
Glorfindel smiled warmly at his companion and wrapped his arm around Ecthelion in turn. "Thank you, and yes, we have much to talk of, indeed."
"You are always welcome, Mallos," Ecthelion said, tugging Glorfindel a bit closer. "Now, how was your visit to Dûnereg? I've got to know Erestor and gathered you and he were great friends in Elrond's house."
"Aye, he mentioned knowing you and that you commiserated over your shared hardship. Which he intimated to be my own much-abused self!" Glorfindel huffed.
Ecthelion threw his head back and laughed uninhibitedly. "I should imagine he had an even worse time of it than I, keeping your ego in check. Emissary of the Valar, indeed! Could that have been the same Glorfindel of Gondolin who once slipped a recently deceased rodent under the dinner cloche of the Lord of the House of the Harp?"
"It wasn't just a rodent. It was a mole. I thought he might have appreciated the gift," Glorfindel muttered.
"Still, the mole itself was quite innocent."
"I never killed it!" Glorfindel insisted. "It was done in by one of Egalmoth's cats who didn't fancy actually eating it. I just gave it to someone who would."
"Gods, you are a terror!" Ecthelion laughed, but then his smile faded as he recalled more of those days. "Ai… but I do wish our king had harkened more to your advice than Maeglin's, for you may be a terror, but I think there never has been a more loyal Elf since the days of Cuivienen. And, hear me now, take notes if you wish, for I will never speak of this again – when I heard what you did to get Idril and Tuor and beautiful little Eärendil to safety… I wept."
"Then they must surely have been the same tears I wept when Tuor told me you fell defending him," Glorfindel said quietly. "Our entire city was in flames below me, but it was not till then that I felt my heart had been ripped from me. I am sorry, Eithel, I have not thought of it in so long," Glorfindel said, pressing a hand over his eyes.
Ecthelion stopped and pulled Glorfindel into his arms. "I often have thought it better not to think on, let alone speak of," his said softly, "but perhaps, though we be rehoused and have naught but days of peace ahead of us, perhaps sometimes we must speak of these things with those who also bore them before we can truly be free of them."
"We could spend an age, Eithel, talking of things of which we do not speak," Glorfindel murmured, pressing his face against Ecthelion's shoulder. Then he took a breath and shook his head and said, "Come, let us speak of happier things a while. We are nearly to the city now. Where is your home situated?"
"Partway up the south slope, where my fountain can reflect much starlight," Ecthelion said, leading Glorfindel up the path to the city.
"I wondered if you would have a fountain here, too," Glorfindel said. "Fountains all about the house, as well?"
"Of course," Ecthelion smiled. "The splashing of water has always made me want to make music. I think it the best accompaniment other than a harp."
"Child of Ulmo, you are," Glorfindel grinned. "I recall you, sitting on the ground beside the fountain just in front of your house, playing a beautiful tune…. I fell asleep listening and had a beautiful dream. Only… it was so very long ago that I remember nothing of that gift from Lord Irmo, now. I just know that it made me feel truly contented. I should like to have that dream again one day."
Ecthelion reached to take Glorfindel's hand and said, "I think we shall have many lovely dreams to come, Mallos."
As Glorfindel looked into Ecthelion's eyes, he saw there a sparkle that he didn't think he'd ever noticed before. It looked much like the sparkle the shone in Erestor's eyes when he saw Celebrimbor approaching the garden earlier that day, but it looked different in Ecthelion's blue eyes… it seemed more captivating, somehow. Glorfindel found himself recalling the contentment of that forgotten dream, and holding on to Ecthelion's hand a little tighter.