Some days later, Glorfindel woke as usual, and lay in bed with a lighter heart than he had known for many ages. The day ahead seemed bright with a promise he had long since forgotten.
How strange, he mused, that the company of a young mortal boy should be so pleasing. He began to rehearse the story of the founding of Gondolin, imagining the expression on the boy's face as he told of the years of labour, when even Turgon turned his hand to mining and masonry to raise the white city in its hidden valley.
He found himself humming as he made his way to the stables again. Lindir was tending a mare, heavy with foal. He looked up with a smile, "Why Glorfindel, it sounds as if you are having a good morning. The Lay of Leithian indeed. Which of our fair maidens do you wish to see dancing amongst the hemlocks?"
While Glorfindel had been in Lorien, Lindir appeared to have appointed himself head groom. It was the way of the folk of Rivendell, to turn their hand to any task that needed doing, and somehow everything needful was done. In like way Glorfindel went to help Lindir, simply because he found his company congenial. And he liked the horses, who were uncomplicated. He had not accounted for Lindir's barbed sense of humour.
His cheeks were hot as he replied, "Why, in all my years no maid has danced for me in all of Arda. And now the time for such things has passed."
"Then it must be the prospect of my company that is making you so happy. The hemlocks are yet to flower this season, but I can arrange to dance amongst the dandelions, if you wish it," Lindir said outrageously. However, Glorfindel knew Lindir was innocent of any ill intent, and knew nothing of Glorfindel's secrets. He laughed too, and laid his hand on the mare's warm brown flank. The foal kicked vigorously against his touch, and the mare moved restlessly, stamping, and blowing. He moved to her head, and gentled her long soft nose.
"It will not be long for this one," said Lindir, reaching beneath the mare, and feeling her swollen udder. He lifted her tail, and inspected her rear matter-of-factly. "In fact I believe it may be tonight. I shall be keeping her company, if anyone wishes to know why I am not in the Hall of Fire tonight." He took a roll of bandage from a shelf in the stall and began to bandage the mare's tail to keep it out of the way of the birth.
There was a sudden clatter of hooves in the stable yard, and shouts and laughter. Glorfindel went to the doorway. Two tall dark-haired Elves were dismounting from a pair of matched white geldings, with a crash of mailed feet. Their identical beautiful faces were as fierce as hawks.
"I don't know why you wanted to keep the filthy things. Father has said many a time he does not want the valley defiled with such trophies."
The other Elf's baldric was adorned with tufts of coarse, dirty hair. His brother continued, "I don't know how you can bear the stink of those things so close to your face."
"Every time I smell that stench, it tells me that another of that foul breed has paid for our mother's torment. Oh. Glorfindel. You're back then."
"Elladan, Elrohir," Glorfindel bowed, unsure, as were all except their father and sister which was which. "I see you have had good hunting."
The brother wearing the orc scalps gave a smile which could only be described as wolfish. It sat strangely on his beautiful features. "Another nest of that spawn of Morgoth rooted out, thanks be to Elbereth." The smell of unwashed orc hair, and uncured scalp flesh drifted horribly across the stable yard. Glorfindel tried not to breathe very much. Lindir, ever curious, was at the stable door. He greeted the brothers, and said, "I'll just see to these shall I? " He led the sweating horses into the comfort of the stable well away from the pregnant mare.
"You have arrived early this morning. Did you ride through the night?"
"It was the dark of the moon last night, and we were filled with an urge to ride over the moors by starlight. Before we knew it, we were close to home, and had a sudden yearning for good food and soft beds,"
"And hot baths," interrupted his brother,
"Yes, and we were overwhelmed. So here we are."
"I am sure your father will be delighted to see you, after you have bathed. I was just on my way to the bath house. Perhaps you would join me."
"We would be delighted," said the brother without the orc scalps, and with an economy and synchrony of movement that was in its way as lovely as a dance, they removed helms, greaves, gorgets and mail shirts. What they could not reach for themselves, they undid for each other, until they stood in soiled leather jerkins, and grimy undershirts and breeches, their weapons and armour in a haphazard pile on the floor of the stable yard.
"You'd better burn those in the bath house furnace, Elrohir," said Elladan, nodding at the scalps. His brother bent and unknotted them from his discarded baldric, and slightly sulkily collected them into a hideous bouquet.
The bath house fires had burnt low when they arrived, and the brothers made for the woodpile. It amused Glorfindel to see that without a word, Elladan stationed himself at the woodpile, and Elrohir by the furnace door. Logs were lifted by Elladan, thrown to Elrohir, and posted neatly into the furnace with the same economic grace that he had seen as they dismailed. He pictured them fighting with that spare motion, two bodies moving, bidden by a single mind. No wonder Elrohir's tally of scalps had been so high.
The so-called bath house was really barely a house at all. It consisted of a roof supported on two rows of whimsically carved stone pillars, the work of several sculptors, and was open to the elements on three sides.
A shallow stone aquaduct, lined with smooth river pebbles of shades of grey and white brought water from one of the upper streams. The bubbling water made a pleasing music, as it ran over a small fall into the cold pool, which was large and deep enough for swimming.
The hot pool was filled with hot water from the steel tank, over the furnace, which was behind the only wall. One of the great pleasures of winter in Rivendell was to sit in the steaming water, preferably drinking hot, spiced wine, while snow on the surrounding lawns reflected the starlight.
When Glorfindel and the twins entered, it was empty. All washed themselves before entering either pool. The washing area was to one side; a slatted area over a drain, which led away into a gravel soak, so as not to soil the waters of the valley. While Glorfindel applied himself to carefully washing his hair, Elladan and Elrohir horsed around in the hot pool, with much splashing; wrestling and dunking one another, in a private and never-ending contest.
Glorfindel slid into the icy water of the cold pool. In summer, water lily leaves spread across the end of the pool which caught the sun, and already the ropy stems slid over his calves and thighs as he swam up and down the pool. Somehow he always felt excluded from the intensity of the twins' private relationship
It was more than four hundred years, mused Glorfindel as he swam, his hair spreading about him like river weed, since Celebrian sailed for Valinor. Four hundred years had the twins spent on their self-appointed task, tirelessly harrying orcs and other fell creatures in the lands around Rivendell. They travelled for many miles, sleeping under the stars, and returning to their father's house infrequently. People had expected them to calm down, once the first flush of grief for their mother had passed. But it seemed it never had passed, and Elrond and Elrohir were locked in their own intense fight against all the evil of the world. It left no room in their hearts for love. Elladan had once thought to marry a maiden of Lorien, but the death of his mother had led to bitterness of heart, and love could not survive in such an inhospitable climate. Many times did the mallorn leaves turn to gold while the maiden too had grieved. Elrohir had never loved another, at least that anyone knew of.
The twins broke off their horseplay, and were lolling in the steaming water. "I shall ask the smiths to reforge my sword before we leave again. The blade has too many nicks in it, and I swear that that last blow from that big orc must have weakened it. We must fletch more arrows too."
"After we have spoken to Father."
"We will have to be off again in a day or two,"
"Mmm. I daresay young Estel will beg again to join us. One day we will have to allow him."
"He has been brought up to a soft bed and good food. He will find life in the wild hard indeed. I do not think he has ever seen an orc, and they are not the worst things that abide in these lands."
"You have met our latest little foster brother?" called one of the twins to Glorfindel.
"I have. In fact I have been tasked with assisting in his education in history."
"Ha, Father would make a lore-master of him. The arts of war would make for a better education."
"I believe he is not deficient in those either. Erestor has seen to that. And I daresay that you two have also had a hand in it."
The twins laughed in unison, and one of them said, "Indeed we have. We mean to make him the greatest mortal warrior since Beren Erchamion left these shores."
"Really?"
"Our father believes he will be the one to restore the line of kings to Gondor."
"Believes, or wishes it to be so?" asked Glorfindel, finding it interesting that the twins at least knew of their father's plans.
"Does it matter?"
"It seems somewhat unlikely to me. The Stewards have ruled Gondor successfully for many mortal generations. They will hardly welcome a self-proclaimed king with open arms. And a member of a debased remnant of a great line."
"He is the only living direct descendant of Isildur. And Father still holds great heirlooms of his family and insignia of the office of King."
"Those will count for little. They may not even be recognised now."
"Then our father will ensure that they are."
The twins had always had complete faith in their father. Since the capture of their mother, they had rejected the arts of peace in favour of those of war, and left all matters of politics and strategy to him, and to Erestor. Glorfindel made a mental note to discuss the matter more deeply with Elrond.
"Breakfast is calling. Let's go and eat," said one of the twins.
They dressed in the loose plain robes of the bath house, and made their way to the main house, to dress properly.