Glorfindel of the Golden Flower essentially lived in three different homes. That of his own, that of his wife, and that of his best friend. Now he sat in Ecthelion's bedroom as said best friend paced in front of his wardrobe, picking up and discarding tunics as if they'd all personally insulted his mother.

"Ecthelion, Erestor does not hold much care for the latest fashions. I do not think the style of your tunic will matter to him more than your presence at the table."

"It is a family dinner in his honor," Ecthelion said. "I must look nice."

Glorfindel walked over to the pile of clothing and pulled out a tunic, as deep a blue as Ecthelion's eyes, with silver threading that glinted in the light. "The blue, then. Blue always suits you."

Ecthelion rejected it with a wave of his hand. "You are wearing blue."

And so he was, a favorite tunic of Ithilwen's, but his wife truly preferred him in anything or nothing at all. "Then I shall change," Glorfindel said. "It's a family dinner. You should not be too overdressed or rumors will fly that you plan on proposing to Erestor this night, with everyone so gathered."

Ecthelion looked up at him guiltily and then his gaze flickered to the chest at the end of his bed.

"Not yet," Glorfindel gently admonished. "You must at least nominally court him before you propose."

"Oh, like you did?" Ecthelion asked.

Glorfindel laughed. "I proposed to Ithilwen first when we were elflings. I courted her throughout our entire youth. Before she even reached her majority we were betrothed."

"And you were married in a private ceremony a year and a day after her majority and conveniently hours before her official celebration," Ecthelion said, as he would know, since he was there.

"We were still in Nevrast at the time," Glorfindel said, caught for a moment in memories of a time when life was both much simpler and far more difficult.

He had dreams, then, when they were still elflings back in Valinor. Of a wedding attended by their families, kings, queens, and a few lesser Valar. Instead they had rebellion and exile, Glorfindel refusing to be separated from his love and his friends, and traveling across the sea and the ice, just a year into his majority, following Ecthelion and Eglamoth and Ithilwen.

They'd been in Nevrast for little more than a year, the mourning period just lifted, when Ithilwen had reached her majority and Glorfindel had sought the confirmation of their betrothal, planned between their families since Ithilwen's birth.

He hadn't wanted a grand wedding then, still far too weighed down with shock and grief. He'd just wanted Ithilwen, their closest family and friends, and hope for the future. And so that's what they had, out on the beach, under the stars.

So far removed then from their home now, their beautiful mountain city of gates and stone.

"A different world," Ecthelion said as he looked around at the sturdy walls and luxury around them.

"A different world," Glorfindel agreed. He stood and approached his friend, his brother, and rested his head on Ecthelion's shoulder, smiling at their reflections in the looking glass. They'd always been an inseparable pair. And soon, he hoped, they'd be brothers by law as well as bond.

"You look serious," Ecthelion said. "Should I worry?"

"Only if you claim to be smart," Glorfindel teased. "Truly, Erestor is no child uncertain of his mind, nor would he ever allow himself to be swayed towards something he does not desire. He is stubborn like that, a family trait to be sure. If we were still in Valinor he'd be an entire half-century past his majority, and he well knows that."

"And yet?" Ecthelion asked.

"He keeps his own council on many things, including his heart. He is the last of that first generation of Gondolin born elflings to come of age, the last of the noble houses until Rog's children are grown. There is an immense amount of pressure on his shoulders over this celebration and his possible marriage. It has to be done right, Ecthelion. At least 'right' as the Court understands it."

Ecthelion's shoulders dropped in resignation. He nodded and patted Glorfindel on the arm.

"He will have to come to me," Ecthelion said.

Glodinel nodded. It could not look like Erestor was coerced into a favorable match. It could not appear as if Ecthelion was trying to raise his own House by aligning it with the Heavenly Arch.

Not that Ecthelion needed any help in securing the King's confidence and approval. Of them all, Ecthelion was the closest to the royal family, even more than Glorfindel who was related to them by blood. Save Aredhel, there was no else in the city who better knew the King's mind than Ecthelion.

There was an impatient twist to Ecthelion's mouth now. He'd spent most of their quiet moments while on errand planning just what he would say and do to plead his case to Erestor for an official courtship. And now Ecthelion, ever the planner, had to wait for another to make the first move.

"The waiting, it'll be horrible, I know, but there can be no doubt in any mind that it was all Erestor's choice." His kissed Ecthelion's temple. "If I know anything of him, I believe I know where his heart lies. He has always adored you."

"I don't need adoration," Ecthelion said.

"Have a care and some patience, Ecthelion, and see if adoration can turn to, or perhaps already has, turned to love," Glorfindel said.

Ecthelion laughed. "You of all elves preaching patience." He shook his head. "What has the world come to?" He leaned forward and picked up the blue tunic. "Blue?" he asked.

Glorfindel nodded. "It is your color." He sighed. "I suppose it shall be gold for me again."

"Eru forbid you try something muted, like a grey," Ecthelion joked. He nudged Glorfindel towards the door. "Go change. I shall meet you in the Greater Market."

"I give him advice, and he banishes me from his presence," he said to the sky. "Such insults I must bear."

"Get out," Ecthelion said with a laughing shove.

Glorfindel still had a smile on his face as he left the silver arches of the House of the Fountain and made his way down the familiar path to the Golden Flower. He could've taken the private garden path that connected their homes, but having just recently returned to the city, Glorfindel knew it was best to be seen. In a city full of so many wishing to rise in rank and power, Glorfindel could not let his own presence be forgotten.

He stopped by one of the smaller markets, made small talk with the few merchants still open, bought up the last of the day's inventory from a young flower seller, and bought a bushel of tart green apples as a gift for his favorite brother-in-law. The sun was just beginning to set as he made it to the Golden Flower, Rerindion waiting for him at the door, and let himself relax.

"Will Lady Ithilwen be returning this night?" the Master of his Household asked.

"If the Valar smile upon us," Glorfindel said. He handed over the flowers. "I'm sure you can find a home for these."

"Of course, my lord," Rerindion said. "And the apples?"

"Have them sent to Penlod," he said. "I must change before dinner. Any news I should know?"

"None that can't wait until your return," he said. "Are you not already dressed, my lord?"

Glorfindel shrugged. "I felt in need of a change."

Rerindion nodded. "May I suggest the silver? The gold has become too common."

One of the many reasons he was glad Rerindion still worked for him. "Rerindion, you should raise your wages."

"They are already far too high," he called after Glorfindel.

"Raise them!" Glorfindel called back.

"The entire idea of this majority ceremony is preposterous," Erestor said from his seat in front of his looking glass. It wasn't a formal dinner tonight, but Erestor couldn't go down to the table covered in ink stains and lose hair. And this wasn't a new rant, but it was rare to have his sister's company behind closed doors with no other eyes or ears about. "If we were in Hithlum I'd be considered two decades past my majority. If we were in Doriath, it'd be closer to three."

"Alas we are in Gondolin," Ithilwen said as she sorted through his collection of hair ties and jewels.

"Where I've been considered 'mostly' adult for half a century and an actual adult for many years," Erestor said. "Eglamoth said his majority ceremony back in Valinor wasn't nearly as elaborate as ours now. Why the change?"

Ithilwen kissed the crown of Erestor's head. "Because we have the luxury of time and life here. Because so many died while crossing the ice. Because this city makes our people feel a sense of permanency again, a solid ground under their feet, and as a member of a noble House, as a pillar of standards for the Gondolindrim, there are certain prices to be paid. One of them is submitting yourself to the extravagance and ceremony of your majority. Most everyone loves a party, Erestor, and your majority will be the last of its kind until Rog's children come of age."

"And the Rites? I cannot believe that was practiced over the sea."

Ithilwen shrugged and started to plait Erestor's hair. "They were, in some manner, from what I was told. Things were different in Nevrast." She secured the main plait with a silver and gold clasp of the Two Trees, a gift Ecthelion had sent over the day of his return. "It's all a matter of honor. You're a member of one noble line honoring another by declaring them as righteous enough to guide you into adulthood. No one actually expects the Rites to contain a bedding unless the match is one of mutual desire or love. It's enough to give the people the illusion of it all, from a time when elves were far too idle for anything other than gossip, I suppose."

"Politics," Erestor said with a sneer.

"Of which you are striving to become a master," Ithilwen kindly reminded him.

"Only when they don't directly concern me," Erestor said. "I have little need or desire for such attention, and as the youngest sibling I should be of little notice to anyone. Let me stay to the shadows and gather my observations from there."

"Even in the shadows, Ecthelion shines. If he is where you heart truly lies you will have to play nice with Turgon's court."

"Like you?" Erestor asked.

It was a petulant jab from a brother that knew better. He knew how hard Ithilwen had worked to gain a voice and establish her own authority, and how she always fought the yoke of her position and place in the city. She knew her part to play, she played it well, but she did it so few would ever know or suspect the true influence she held. Better to think her nothing more than a pampered, though respected, she-elf. She used their ignorance over her true intentions to her advantage.

Ithilwen bowed her head and placed a hand over her heart in a solemn motion. "I know not of what you speak. I'm a simple sister who still dwells in her brother's home, so sad to be so long betrothed."

Erestor laughed at the innocent mask Ithilwen wore. "And what will you do the day you forget to take those herbs of yours and wind up with two-legged evidence of your not-so-secret marriage?"

Ithilwen raised a single pointed brow, the innocent mask vanishing. "Do you think any foolish enough in these walls to openly call Glorfindel's child a bastard?"

"If they had even an inkling of brains in their heads they would know to fear your wrath more than his. Glorfindel lashes out with strategic plans and bright smiles so you don't see the knife at your back. You, dear sister, threaten the ruin of their reputations and their funds."

"As you know, there are many forms of currency in this city, and sometimes all it takes is a single word whispered in the right ear." Her gaze was drawn out to the garden. "We were all reunited for some time, after the Ice, after all that loss, and working together to build Vinyamar. And then Turgon started to play favorites, those prized few who knew of Gondolin's foundations from the day the ground was broken." She sighed and cupped Erestor's cheek. "Jealousy is a truly wicked thing, dear brother. You will feel its blows even more keenly now, if you are to accomplish that which you so desire."

"Perhaps not. Not everyone falls in love with their first bed partner," Erestor said.

Ithilwen did not glare at her brother. She did something far worse. Her smile was sweet and understanding as she crouched down to meet his eyes. "Yes, but not everyone is already in love with their first bed partner when they ask them to perform the Rites." Her lips were warm where they pressed against Erestor's forehead. She pulled back and winked at him. "But I was in love with Glorfindel and you are in love with Ecthelion. Just ask him, brother. All he can do is refuse."

She walked away, her dress trailing behind her, but paused at the doorway. She turned back to him.

"I doubt he will," she said.

"Say yes," Erestor said. "Yes, I know. Hence my hesitation."

She shook her head, dark curls sliding across her shoulders. "I do not think he will refuse you. In fact, I think he will enthusiastically accept."

Erestor sighed. "Not everyone is as eager as Glorfindel was for you."

"Not everyone, no," Ithilwen agreed. "But Ecthelion very well might be."

"Sometimes hope is a weapon," Erestor whispered.

"Not this time," Ithilwen said. "Find a smile, Erestor, then come to dinner. Even if it's just an act. You can still be lost in your thoughts, but if the others see you so worried, you won't have a moment's peace tonight."

Rog, in particular, had a bad habit for questioning Erestor repeatedly until her got either a confession or a laugh out of him. Erestor considered it an endurance test. Rog considered it entertainment.

"I will," he promised.

It was a large crowd for a family dinner, though half of those added guests came from Rog's brood. Rog, Noriel, and their children were out in the garden with Ecthelion, chasing after birds that Duilin kept calling down from the trees.

It was a warm night, the kind best spent under the stars with a good drink and good company. They would all move outdoors eventually, but for now they were starting to gather at the massive table that took up the Heavenly Arch's private dining suite.

Egalmoth was already in conference Aredhel, both reviewing some new sketches Noriel had brought. Those two were always after designing the next pretty thing, or Egalmoth was at the very least. Penlod and Aredhel were usually they one they had to pull him back from his more flamboyant designs, throwing out enough jewels on a whole set of shields for example, using enough sparkling rocks to blind the sun itself.

Glorfindel waited patiently at one of the side tables for Ithilwen and Erestor to appear. He had a watchful eye on Branwen, Penlod's ward, as she flirted with Legolas of the Tree in the corner. Galdor was also present somewhere in the house with Penlod, looking through the Heavenly Arch's inventory of bows.

"Leave them to their romance."

Glorfindel turned to his side where his wife stood, one of the few elves able to sneak up on him. She was resplendent in a deep red dress, her hair decorated in golden chains that looped around and connected to a large golden flower on the crown of her head. She was magnificent.

"You continue to steal my breath along with my heart," Glorfindel said, not a single lie in his words.

Ithilwen laughed softly and pulled him away from his seat. "Come, let us take our places at the table. Penlod and Galdor are almost done with their inspection."

"I'd much rather sit in this dark corner and have you all to myself for a bit longer," he confessed.

It was trying at times, their arrangement, especially during those silent nights when he woke up to a cold bed beside him. But he admired and respected Ithilwen's devotion to her family and his House and the amount of dedication it took to juggle such a life.

"There will come a time, after all this is settled and sorted, they you will miss the days when I was so absent."

"Never," he said.

Ithilwen ran a hand down his chest, resting it over his heart. "I like the silver, a bold choice for you."

"Rerindion's suggestion."

"You should raise his wages. He always gives such good advice on all sorts of matters."

"I tried and he told me his pay was already too high," he said.

Ithilwen had that look on her face that meant she wanted to get her hands on the account books. He'd lose her to the numbers soon enough if he didn't distract her.

"Where is the guest of honor?" he asked.

Ithilwen eyes shifted towards the ceiling. "Upstairs letting himself fill with doubts." She looked so sad as she pulled Glorfindel towards the main table. "It is not an easy thing, risking a heart."

Glorfindel pressed a kiss to the top of her head in agreement. He knew they were some of the lucky ones. They had been betrothed since childhood, yes, but they'd also been raised with the knowledge they could break such an agreement if they ever so wished. And even with the certainty of their feelings for each other, Glorfindel still remembered how his hands shook the first time he told her he loved her, remembered the tears in her eyes and initially mistaking her joy and relief for some sort of rejection.

No, it was no easy thing to risk a heart.

"I do think the reward with be worth it," Glorfindel said.

"If they both survive the journey there," Ithilwen agreed.
Glorfindel sat beside her and reached for the closest wine decanter. He took a sniff and smelled a mixed berry juice, made in-house for both Ithilwen and Erestor who did not care for wine. He poured them both a glass as the room started to fill with guests and everyone took their seats.

Egalmoth took the head chair, Erestor as the guest of honor would take the end. Penlod took a seat beside Ithilwen, fingers still covered in ink and a ledger full of parchment placed down in the space between them. Aredhel sat to Egalmoth's left, Galdor beside her. Legolas and Branwen were still in their own bubble, Rog, Noriel, and their brood still held Ecthelion hostage outside, and Erestor still had yet to appear. The Valar only knew where Duilin had gone.

"Food will get cold," Glorfindel said, watching the kitchen staff lingering in the corners.

"We can at least start with the appetizers," Egalmoth said, signaling for the plates to be brought in.

"Did I hear appetizers?" Duilin asked, jumping down onto the open balcony from somewhere above.

"Did you just climb the house?" Penlod asked.

"Climbed down from the roof. It's good exercise," Duilin said. He slid into his chair. "Food?"

Glorfindel leaned over to Ithilwen. "When we have children, we're keeping that one far away from them."

"Agreed," Ithilwen said.

Appetizers were already being served by the time Erestor reached the dining suite. He noticed that half their guests were still absent though, so he only felt a little guilty for any delay on his part. Their kitchen staff worked far too hard on nights like these for their magnificent work to go to waste.

"Erestor, you have a serious air about you tonight," Penlod said as Erestor took his seat at the end of the table. "Have you finally committed to your decision?"

"Yes," Erestor said, not bothering to ask what decision he meant. There was only one possible question any elf cared to ask Erestor these days, though Penlod truly cared about the answer more for Erestor's sake than this own.

"Ecthelion, then," Penlod said. He opened his ledger and made a note of something "Little surprise there. Much like Ithilwen when she asked Glorfindel."

"Asked?" Glorfindel laughed. "Demanded. Your sister demanded I saw to her Rites."

"And who had his hand up her skirt not even an hour later?" Egalmoth asked.

"Well, I figured it was best to answer her demands as soon as possible," Glorfindel said. "And I will have you know she was already quite educated before that night."

"Yes," Egalmoth said as he glared at his law-brother. "I wonder who was responsible for that."

"They were already betrothed," Aredhel said. "Consider yourself lucky there weren't already elflings about."

"She kissed me first," Glorfindel defended himself to Egalmoth.

Penlod set his ledger to the side and reached out to grasp Ithilwen's hands. "You never had a public ceremony. You could still break your marriage contract and tell everyone it never happened. You don't have to be chained to that fool for all eternity. I'm certain we can find you a nice proper elf. Or she-elf, if you so seek that path."

"Your offer is so kind," Ithilwen said with true sincerity. "Alas, I do love him."

Penlod patted her hands again. "Well, we all have our faults." He picked his book up again. "And even if Ithilwen kissed him first, he was the one who officially proposed to her the very hour she reached her majority."

"Woke the entire House up," Egalmoth agreed.

"And that first kiss happened when we were children," Ithilwen said. She tugged on one of Glorfindel's braids. "I should have just let you fall out of that tree."

"You are and remain my hero," Glorfindel said.

Erestor had to smile at them. He'd been lucky in his life, to be around so much love. Even after their parents had left, determined to seek a life in Hithlum and under Fingolfin's rule once more, Erestor had been raised in nothing but love. Ithilwen had returned to the House of the Heavenly Arch, swearing an oath to raise Erestor as her own, with Egalmoth at her side. She could have resented him, for it was Erestor's wish not to leave the city that caused their parents to grant such a thing, but Ithilwen never had or would utter a word against her decision to return. Glorfindel had equal cause to complain, and yet simply divided his time between their home and his own, advising Erestor once that when Ithilwen asked for some space, it was best to give it to her and that communication and comprise were most important for a happy marriage.

"Do you think Rog and Noriel plan to release Ecthelion from their clutches soon?" Aredhel asked, with an eye to the garden windows.

Elfling laughter filled the evening air from below, the large brood of Rog and Noriel chasing after Ecthelion, delighting in the fresh air far from the forges.

"Let them have their fun," Egalmoth said. "It's good for all of them."

"They'll be horribly embarrassed when they realize they've come to the table after the guest of honor," Penlod advised.

"Can I be a guest in my own home?" Erestor asked.

"An honored attendee then," Glorfindel said. He turned to Penlod, "It's a family dinner, no need to be so formal."

"Besides Rog has felt shame maybe twice in his long existence and this will certainly not do it," Egalmoth said.

Galdor laughed and stood. "I'll go get Branwen and Legolas if someone else is willing to brave the mock battle in the gardens."

"I'll go," Erestor said.

"It's your dinner," Aredhel protested.

He bowed his head in respect to the White Lady. "Yes, my lady, but I was also late to the table and am the only one without plate. It's fitting and I do not mind."

"Well, if you insist," Aredhel said.

"I do," Erestor said as he pushed his chair out.

Galdor walked towards the hall and Erestor towards the balcony where a hidden staircase linked directly to the gardens. In the stairwell he found Branwen and Legolas.

"Oh my darling niece," he called.

"Only legally," Branwen said. She turned and sighed. "Who's coming? Penlond or Galdor?"

"Galdor," Erestor said. "He went towards the house, so you can try and make it to one of the public rooms, sitting a suitable distance apart, when he finds you."

Branwen rushed forward and gave him a hug. "You remain my favorite adoptive relative." She kissed his cheek. "Happy Begetting Day, Erestor."

She and Legolas gone through the passageway behind the portrait of Varda before Erestor could even thank her. He shook his head at her antics, and the attempt to court on her own terms, and kept to the stairs and the garden below.

"It looks like we've been called out," Rog said once he spied Erestor. "And they've sent the Guest of Honor after us." He turned to his wife. "I think Penlond is trying to shame me."

Noriel snorted. "As if that's possible."

"I volunteered to come," Erestor said, standing beside them. "I was late to the table as well."

"Well, that's alright then," Rog said, clapping Erestor on the shoulder with one of his massive hands. "We'll head on in." He whistled. "Boys, let Ecthelion go."

Ecthelion's musical laugh came from the bottom of an elfling dogpile. After the four boys climbed off of him and ran towards their parents, Ecthelion was left on the grass, hair and clothing askew, laughing up at the night sky.

"Quite a sight you make, Lord of the Fountains," Erestor said. He kneeled down and helped pull Ecthelion up. "Very in touch with nature, I see."

"I have grass stains on my backside, don't I," Ecthelion said.

Erestor only looked because Ecthelion had so asked. "Your leggings are dark enough to hide them."

"Liar," Ecthelion teased.

His eyes shone in the moonlight, and that was enough alone to take Erestor's breath away, but it was more how relaxed Ecthelion appeared now, as if some of his burdens had finally fallen off his shoulders.

Erestor reached out and tugged Ecthelion's tunic back in place, unable to help himself.

"This is a lovely color on you," he said.

"Thank you, Erestor," Ecthelion said. "Glorfindel insisted."

"Even he's right once a decade," Erestor said.

He stood back as Ecthelion undid his long braid and shook his hair out. "So much for elaborate hairstyles," he said, pulling it back into a single tail and securing it with a leather band. "I should've known better with those demons around."

"You are their favorite uncle," Erestor agreed.

"Or just far easier to tackle than their mountain of a father," Ecthelion said.

Or the fact that the children knew, despite how terrifying and awe-inspiring Ecthelion could be when he put on the mantle of warrior, he was one of the kindest elves in all of Gondolin, with a soft spot for elflings.

"Perhaps," Erestor agreed.

They walked in a comfortable silence up the stairs to the dining room, hands occasionally brushing as they walked side by side.

Glorfindel had coaxed Ithilwen outside for a post-dessert walk around the city. The ever-burning lamps even seemed dim in the pure dark of the deep night. The city was still alive in its own ways, music and voices raised to the stars, some in reverence, some in their cups, and some in far more personal if pleasurable things. Some elves always forgot about their open windows and balconies.

Not that many secrets could truly be kept in their enclosed mountain home.

"Do you think we should have escorted Aredhel home?" Ithilwen asked. "Galdor always gets wary around the King's Tower."

"He just doesn't like how enclosed it is," Glorfindel said. "That elf lives in a glorified tree house."

Ithilwen's lips twitched and then she put a hand over her mouth, trying and failing to hide a smile.

"What it is?" Glorfindel asked.

"If Galdor lives in a glorified tree house, then Duilin's in a birdhouse."

Glorfindel wanted to groan at such a pathetic joke, and yet all he could do was lean down and kiss that smile, taste the amused joy coming from those beloved lips.

"Stay with me tonight," Glorfindel pleaded as they slowly separated. "I wish to see you in my bed, in my dreams, and in the morning light."

"You've always had me, Glorfindel," Ithilwen said. "No need to try to charm my skirts off."

"I quite enjoy charming your skirts off," he said. "Though I will settle for your warmth beside me instead of sending me off to an empty bed."

"Silly Laurefindil, where do you think I've been leading us this entire time?" she asked.

It was foolish of him not to recognize his own garden gate.

Ithilwen led them through the gate, the garden, the halls, and up into their bed.

The house had grown quiet with the departure of Noriel and her family. Rog had slipped him a set a papers before they left, the design for Erestor and Ecthelion's insignia, if it so came to that.

It put a fear into Erestor, to think that so many thought it all such a sure thing. He didn't know if it was just because they were all so eager to see Ecthelion married off or to see Erestor make a fool of himself or if it was because they honestly didn't have anything better to gossip about. All their certainty just made Erestor's heart fill with doubt.

"You like the clasp, then?"

Erestor stumbled, just managing to catch himself and Rog's designs from hitting the floor. He turned around to find Ecthelion behind him, a hand over his mouth obviously covering a smile.

"Apologies," Ecthelion said. "I thought you heard my approach."

"Keen though my ears may be, you never make a sound in soft shoes," Erestor said.

Ecthelion glanced down at his feet. "Ah, well, it didn't seem like a night for boots." He gestured to Erestor's hair. "The clasp?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, it's gorgeous," Erestor said, fingers trailing to the back of his head. "And far too much."

"Nonsense," Ecthelion said. "It's for a celebration of your life. It deserves such gifts."

Erestor hoped the blush he could feel rising to his skin wasn't too obvious. Hopefully the dim light and shadows of the night would be his friend until he could compose himself.

"Well, it is a piece of art I will cherish," Erestor said. "And the flute, though I've never seen its make before."

"Oh," Ecthelion said with a slight bow of his head. "It was one of my own making. When were on our mission, my hands grew idle. I was carving it without conscious thought. I know it is not perhaps the most glorious of flutes, certainly doesn't carry the sound of the metal ones, but it is a sincere gift." He glanced up. "Not that you aren't deserving of the metal flutes, it's only that I could not think of a better recipient."

"Ecthelion, you're rambling," Erestor said with a laugh. He placed his free hand on Ecthelion's shoulder. "Besides, I have plenty of metal flutes, most gifted from you if I do recall, and this one is special. You spoil me."

"On that, we disagree," Ecthelion said.

Egalmoth interrupted them then, Penlod next to him, arm around his waist.

"Time to retire?" Erestor asked.

Egalmoth nodded. "Not that we would kick our beloved Ecthelion out of our home. We can provide you a room, of course. It seems your escort has already abandoned you."

Ecthelion laughed. "Yes, well, when you best friend marries, one must get used to the disappointment of him abandoning you for his wife. The nerve of such a an elf."

"How dare he," Penlod jokingly agreed.

"Honestly," Ecthelion said as they all shared a laugh. "Thank you for the offer of a room, Egalmoth, but I can see myself home."

He left them after a round of increasing ridiculous farewells and taunts directed at Glorfindel in his absence.

"So, did you ask him?" Penlod asked as the great doors of the house closed behind Ecthelion.

"Eru's balls," Erestor cursed at the empty doors.

"You could always run after him," Egalmoth suggested. "It would be quite romantic."

He could, but he didn't want it left for the dark of the night, as if it was something he was ashamed of asking, only willing to do so under the cover of shadows with no one around.

"It's not the right time," Erestor said. "It's a new day tomorrow."

"If you insist," Egalmoth said, with just a bit of worry in his tone.

"I do," Erestor said, even as he stared at those doors.