o-o-o-o-o

During the following week, Glorfindel had no opportunity to follow up on Erestor's mysterious hint, and eventually forgot about it. He met Elrond every day for his reports as usual, but although their meetings were now much more familiar and relaxed, they were cut short by necessity; a large group of elves travelling to Valinor had arrived from across the Hithaeglir, demanding their time and attention.

Since the war, many such groups had come to the valley, and while they all intended to move on to Lindon thence to sail west, people usually stayed for a few weeks. Some needed the healer's attention, for their reason to sail was severe or lasting injury or illness, or the weariness that came with grief and loss. Sometimes, families and kinsmen reunited or searched for each other as, after the defeat of the enemy, many people had been scattered everywhere. Yet others came because they had nobody left and were glad to be welcome in Imladris to stay, not really wanting to sail already, and it always took a few days until all newcomers were settled comfortably.

On the first regular day afterwards, Glorfindel spotted the first snowdrops peeping through the snow. He took it as a good sign, spring was more welcome this year than ever before. A messenger intercepted him just as he entered the main house, handing him a note from Elrond asking to delay their meeting as he had been held up. Glorfindel decided to visit the kitchens first instead, seduced by the deliciously sweet smells coming from that direction. When he entered, two large pans of fresh cinnamon buns proved to be the source, and Glorfindel happily joined the small group at the table.

"Do you work in your office at all?" he asked Erestor, who was comfortably installed with a filled cup, a plate full of crumbs and a pile of parchments in front of him. "No matter at what time I arrive, I find you always already here, or just about to leave." He helped himself to one of the buns and grinned affectionately at his friend.

One of the scribes whose name Glorfindel did not know snorted. "You are labouring under a misconception, captain: the kitchens ARE his office. The chambers upstairs serve just for keeping the files and ledgers. Nobody bothers looking for him there anyway, as he is never there."

Erestor raised his eyebrow at the scribe. "Well, you found me, did you not? A steward needs to be familiar with all of his domain, and keep on top of what is going on and the inventory lists everywhere. I am just saving time and effort if I do it on location."

"At least it saves the attendants a lot of running around if they do not have to go upstairs every time Erestor gets a craving!" Everybody laughed at the cook's dry remark, Erestor included. The cook poured Glorfindel a cup of sweetened acorn coffee and topped up the empty cups held out to him.

"There is that," Erestor admitted with a grin. "You are early today, Glorfindel."

"Yes, Elrond has been held up."

Erestor frowned. "Oh, is it so bad? I did not realise."

"Realise what? You are speaking in riddles."

Erestor was about to reply, but then gave a quick shake with his head while looking at the table at large. "Oh, nothing, I was just thinking aloud. But speaking of saving the attendants an errand, you could take some of the buns up for him, they are his favourite."

"Of course."

"Oh, and also take these lists and save me a trek upstairs, will you?"

Glorfindel grinned. "It would be my pleasure. We must not separate you from the cinnamon buns, eh?" Ducking a swat with the parchment roll Erestor was about to hand him, he stole another bun from Erestor's plate under the laughter of the company at table.

Half a candle mark later, an attendant came to Glorfindel, informing him that lord Elrond was now available. Glorfindel emptied his cup and got up, collecting a plate with fresh buns for their lord, and went upstairs.

o-o-o-o-o

Once again, he found Elrond on his chaise longue with his legs propped up, again as informally dressed as on the previous occasion. This time, though, it looked more serious, as in addition to the cushion under the leg something bulky was wrapped around the knee, and various healing paraphernalia were scattered about. On a small table stood two empty vials and a jar of salve besides one of the small teapots used for healing tisanes, on a stool at Elrond's feet sat a covered bowl emitting a strong medicinal smell, and a cane was leaning against the chaise. Elrond lay with his eyes closed and had not reacted when the door opened, but his face was too distorted for him to be asleep.

Worried, Glorfindel put the plate and his parchments onto the nearest surface and hurried to Elrond's side. Had Elrond been injured after all? During the past days, Glorfindel had not missed that Elrond favoured his right leg in the privacy of his study, although in public, nothing seemed amiss. But this had been so minor Glorfindel had thought nothing of it, believing this to be the after-effect of whatever Elrond's problem had been. To find him so much worse today must mean that something had happened since he had last seen Elrond on the previous evening.

"Elrond! What is the matter?"

Without opening his eyes, Elrond said: "Nothing, I am fine. Just the same nuisance again."

Glorfindel drew a chair close and sat down, scrutinizing Elrond's features. He looked tired, with deep lines bracketing his mouth indicating that he must be in pain. "Forgive me, but I do not believe that this is 'nothing', or a 'nuisance', it looks pretty serious to me. I - I do not want to pry, or to vex you, and if you would rather be left alone, I will not insist. But it pains me to find you so poorly, and if there is anything I can do, I wish you would not hesitate to let me know."

Slowly, Glorfindel reached for Elrond's hand, pressing it gently when it was not withdrawn. Elrond heaved a sigh and opened his eyes.

"There is nothing that can be done about it, besides the usual," Elrond said, gesturing towards the side table. "It is just my knee. A few years back, I strained it badly when I was thrown off a horse, and since then it plagues me from time to time. Rest and some salve usually takes care of it. But I would rather not speak about it any more, please."

"All right." Glorfindel nodded, his worries somewhat appeased. "Shall I give my report, then? I have brought the final lists concerning the new arrivals, and there is also a list from Erestor. Oh, and I brought some fresh cinnamon buns."

Elrond's features lit up. "Cinnamon buns! Just the thing to improve my day."

Glorfindel could not help but laugh at this sudden change of Elrond's mood. Who knew that the promise of a sweet would have such a positive effect! But he frowned when Elrond drew himself more upright and got ready to get up. "Please, do not bother! I will bring everything here."

Elrond shook his head while he checked the fit of whatever was wrapped around his knee. Glorfindel noticed only now that he wore unusually loose trousers, obviously to accommodate the girth of the bandage.

"No, it is all right, walking a few steps will do me good."

Getting cautiously to his feet, Elrond reached for the cane, and after testing his balance, made his way over to the desk with careful steps. Glorfindel frowned when he saw how heavily Elrond leaned on the cane, but kept silent. Instead, he fetched the plate and the parchments from the dresser at the door where he had left them and brought them to the desk. Watching how Elrond lowered himself into his chair and placed his bad leg onto a stool placed there for this purpose, Glorfindel could not help but asking:

"Why do you force yourself so much? A seasoned warrior like you certainly is entitled to a few twinges and aches. There is no shame in having fought in battle and having got injured in the process."

Elrond sighed. "This is no battle injury. I was not wounded at Dagorlad, at least not at the leg. A few scratches and bruises, and a broken collarbone when my horse threw me, but that was all. I was lucky."

"Then why the secrecy? Why refusing to give attention to whatever it is that causes you pain and gives you problems? Any warrior of mine behaving in this way would get a reprimand from his superior officer or me, and be sent to rest and recuperate."

Elrond fidgeted around to find a comfortable position. "It is complicated, and not something I usually talk about. But as you are so tenacious, I suppose you need to hear the whole story to understand." He smiled to take the sting out of his words. "I tend to forget that you are unfamiliar with my history, as you have missed most of the past age." His gaze went from Glorfindel to the roll of parchments and then to the plate of buns. "But we must not neglect our duties either. Let me have that account of yours and see the reports, and then I will answer your questions."

When Glorfindel was finished, Elrond drew the parchments and the plate closer. "Might I trouble you for a cup of tea, please? I will have one of these with Erestor's lists. He tends to be a bit intent on details."

Glorfindel, already on his way to Elrond's teapot, laughed out loud. "I suppose this is why Erestor eats so many snacks while working." Lifting the teapot, he added: "There is no tea left, shall I make a fresh pot?"

"Yes, please, but of the regular kind. Best take the larger pot, you will find it in the cabinet. The tea is also there in the large glazed jar."

Glorfindel complied. He filled Elrond's small kettle with fresh water, hung it over the fire, and then went into the tiny cabinet at the back of the study where Elrond kept a small assortment of healing supplies and herbs for everyday use. The teapot stood on a table, but there were two of the larger glazed jars. They had no inscription, so he opened the lids and sniffed the contents. Both smelled familiar, so he chose the one with a distinctive scent of mint and filled a few spoons into the pot.

"There were two jars," he said, carrying the teapot back to the fire. "I chose the one with the blue stripes."

"Ah, yes. This one is the evening blend," Elrond said. "But it does not matter, it tastes the same in the morning." He chuckled and took another bite of his bun.

Since Elrond was busy reading, Glorfindel stayed at the fireside to wait for the water to boil, letting his thoughts wander. By now, he was rather curious about Elrond's tale. It looked as if Elrond was ashamed about his wonky knee, and although Glorfindel knew from experience that some people tended to look down a bit on injuries not acquired in battle, things did not add up. Why should anybody disregard somebody like Elrond with all his renown for something so simple? Elrond had been lord over his domain ever since it had been founded, he was a famed loremaster and healer whom some called the best healer of Middle-earth. He belonged to the Noldor nobility and came from a proud and brave family, no matter that his parents had chosen rather unusual paths for their lives. To Glorfindel's knowledge, Elrond had distinguished himself in all pursuits he had ever endeavoured, also over and over again in battle although the profession of a warrior had never been one of his choice.

The kettle whistled. Glorfindel got up to brew the tea, carrying the teapot over to the table.

"I am nearly done," Elrond said, "and I fear I need to renew my poultice. Let us have the tea at the fireside."

"All right." Glorfindel carried the pot back to the side table, and then went to find a cup for himself while Elrond wrote two notes and then pushed the parchments aside. A sharp hiss brought Glorfindel's attention back to the desk, where Elrond had got up again, but was leaning with both hands on the desk.

"I should have followed your advice earlier and remained in my chaise longue," he said with a rueful grimace.

Glorfindel had had enough. It took him only a moment to come around his desk, where he drew away Elrond's chair and then held out his arms. "Please, allow me."

Elrond, who kept the weight off his bad leg, looked at him with a sombre look. The silence between them stretched on, and then, finally, Elrond nodded without looking at him. Glorfindel did not miss the faint blush on Elrond's cheeks when he lifted him up in his arms and carried him swiftly over to the chaise longue. There, he set Elrond down, careful to not jostle the bad leg.

With a mixture of desperation and fury, Elrond hissed: "How can I be lord of a whole people when I cannot even master my own body? How shall I manage what everybody expects me to, frail and fallible as I am?" He banged his fist on the armrest, and then let his head sink back against the backrest, closing his eyes. "Forgive me, Glorfindel, I am not at my best today."

The quick outburst of temper was somewhat shocking; to Glorfindel, it proved more than anything how miserably Elrond must really be feeling. "There is nothing to forgive," he said. "Everybody needs to let off steam now and again, and dealing with pain and limited mobility can tax the bravest among us." Glorfindel had known enough similar moments himself to not have problems to understand Elrond's frustration, even if he had never experienced a similar responsibility. He decided to continue with the pragmatic approach, since it seemed to work, despite Elrond's outbreak. "You wanted to renew your poultice, I think. How do I do this?"

Seeming unwilling at first, Elrond complied after a moment. "Oh well, it would be absurd to refuse after you carried me here, would it not? There is another poultice in the bowl which needs to be exchanged with the one on my knee." He sat up, starting to draw up the trouser leg of his bad leg, but Glorfindel gently pushed his hands away.

"Let me," he said with a wink in an attempt to lighten the mood, "I might be just about able to manage."

It worked, for Elrond laughed and allowed Glorfindel to push up the trouser leg and undo the bandage with the old poultice. Replacing this, he wanted to bandage the leg again, but Elrond declined.

"No, leave it off, just put that towel over it so my trousers will not get wet. I had better replace this a few more times yet."

"All right." Instead, Glorfindel poured the tea and brought the plate with the cinnamon buns from the desk. He accepted one as well, and for a while, they were both busy enjoying the delicious pastry and their tea.

"I hope your knee will soon be healed, with the poultices and everything," Glorfindel remarked.

"So do I. It takes longer to heal each time, though. The other day, when you saw me resting, I had twisted my leg with a clumsy movement earlier. It healed well enough, albeit slower than I had hoped, and was nearly well. It was just my luck to slip on a patch of slush in the courtyard this morning. I fell and twisted my knee again so badly I feared something was torn or broken. Thankfully it is just a sprain again, but it needs to heal all the same, of course."

"I hope it will be better soon," Glorfindel said.

Elrond had finished the last bun on the plate and set down his cup. "So, about my history. You know, of course, that am half-elven," he began.

Glorfindel nodded. "So was Eärendil."

"My father was but seven years old when Gondolin fell, and maybe he did not experience the same consequences of our heritage as I do," Elrond said. "You might perhaps also know that half-elves are given the choice of belonging to either Men or Elves. Obviously, I chose the latter, other than my brother Elros. Do you know about him, by the way?"

"Not much, only that he was the first king of the Numénoreans. Perhaps you could also tell me about him another time."

Elrond smiled. "It will be my pleasure. Well, as I chose to belong to the elves, I share the life-span and many other characteristics of your people. Some differences remained, though, mainly in the working of hröa and fëa, and I am much more susceptible to the demands of the body than any true elf."

Glorfindel frowned. "What does that mean? I am not sure I understand."

"I tire more easily, need more food and sleep, and my hearing and sight is not as keen as that of most elves," Elrond explained, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Moreover, I heal much slower, which is why something like a twisted knee might ask for all this ado, while any other elf would be fine with some salve and a day of rest, if at all." He gestured towards the pots and vials and his elevated knee.

"I see. I can imagine that this might be inconvenient at times. But I still do not understand why you prefer to hide your - your differences. It is not as if you could change them, or as if you are responsible for your heritage."

Elrond sighed. "No, certainly not. But things are not so easy. My heritage has put me at a disadvantage often enough, and more than once I have been disregarded because of it. As far as I know, it all goes back to my youth when I came to the court in Lindon. You know perhaps that my brother and I were abducted by the sons of Fëanor - Maglor and Maedhros - as children in Sirion, and afterwards became their fosterlings. When we came to Lindon, many begrudged us the social standing we had as the High king's kinsmen, and finding fault with anything one of us did became a frequent occurrence. We both learned quickly to hide our differences from full-blooded elves, and to blend in as well as possible. Later, Gil-galad sent me to Eregion to lead his army, but I was still young and too inexperienced for the task, and as such, under especially close scrutiny by the seasoned warriors and experienced officers. They knew well enough that I was not a warrior by choice, but by necessity, and not appointed as the king's herald for my military merits but for our kinship. You can imagine that the need for unusual care and consideration for an injury which would be minor at best for everybody else is not exactly conductive to gaining the respect of these men."

Glorfindel nodded in sympathy. "Yes, indeed."

Elrond paused while Glorfindel poured more tea and took a few sips before continuing. "Over time, I got so used to ignoring discomfort and pain and anything that did not need stitches or a splint, that it became second nature. I must not seem weak in front of people, now even more than ever before. I can do this, I have done so for the longest time, but it comes as a price, you know. There are times when I am close to desperation and do not know where to find the strength to be a leader and guide our people through these times. I wish – no." He took his cup in both hands, staring down into the thin tendril of steam rising up.

Glorfindel felt deeply honoured that Elrond would trust him with this knowledge, as well as with his worry and grief, as he had shown earlier. He looked Elrond over. He looked exhausted, but somewhat differently than earlier; not now because of his leg and general weariness, but for deeper, more severe reasons.

As if sensing Glorfindel's scrutiny, Elrond looked up again. "How shall I manage, Glorfindel? Where can I find the strength to lead them, to care for them all, when my heart is so weary? It is not only my own deficiencies, but also the loss of so many. I grieve so for what we have lost, for the people who have gone, and I feel such a poor choice for their lord. Sometimes it feels as if I am not strong enough for all of it."

"Oh Elrond." Glorfindel hesitated no longer, but went over to Elrond, taking him in his arms. It felt odd doing this, he was usually not such a demonstrative person. He strongly suspected that Elrond was neither, too, but somehow, it just felt right, and he happily gave in into the special feeling of tenderness he suddenly felt for this strange and wonderful man, who gave no resistance to his embrace, but accepted it gladly and without reserve. Perhaps he could give Elrond some of the strength Elrond needed, Glorfindel thought. He certainly wanted to.

"Thank you," Elrond eventually said, speaking so softly that Glorfindel had difficulties understanding it. "This was just what I needed. Thank you for being here for me, and for just being yourself."

This time, it was Elrond who initiated the embrace.

finis