Breakfast the following morning was protracted and quiet, Erestor noted. Melpomaen came in early and set a jug of his own fruit-based restorative next to Mistress Laindis' hangover cure, spoke a cheerful and not-at-all-hungover greeting to Erestor and Arveldir, and sat down to partake of a hearty breakfast. Elladan arrived next, perhaps a little the worse for wear, and contented himself with a nod and a glass of Melpomaen's brew.

'You are not eating, Elladan?' Erestor asked.

'Not yet; my thanks to Mel for the cure, and food will be good in twenty minutes or so.'

Lindir drifted in next, a ghost of himself, his under-eyes a weary grey bordering on purple; more than simply too much wine was in his face, there was a hint of too much weeping as well... Erestor remember the scene he had unwillingly witnessed, wondered idly what would have happened if he had not been there... then realised all would have been exactly the same; Glorfindel, for all his loneliness, would not have taken advantage.

He smiled softly at the minstrel as he brought his meal to the table; dry toast and a glass of water.

'Would you like some of Melpomaen's most excellent tonic, Lindir?' he asked. 'I am going to get something for myself, it is no trouble...'

'Thank you, no, I... it is not so much the wine, and if it were, I deserve to...'

'Come to my studio later, Lindir, and I'll mix you something more fitting to what ails you,' Melpomaen said.

'Thank you. If... if you're not going to be busy...'

'For you, mellon-nyn? Of course not! Come, try to eat something; it will help.'

The minstrel had managed half a piece of toast when Elrohir staggered in, supported by Rusdir who didn't look exactly in rude health himself.

'Oh, I feel terrible! I am sure the not-elven side of me has caught some dreadful illness...'

'No, it is called a hangover, and it is not the first you have had, but will you learn...?' Erestor shook his head. 'Restoratives on the table, you will feel better presently.'

'Of course he will feel better presently!' Elladan said. 'Which is why he never learns... and, of course, he leads poor Rusdir astray, too, and he is still not used to our brews here...'

Rusdir shook his head carefully.

'No, indeed, the beers and wines we drink in the Greenwood traditionally are brewed and crafted with great care as to omit the impurities within which are thought to cause the worst excesses of suffering... these lesser brews are contaminated with all manner of impurities...'

'Or you could drink less,' Elladan suggested.

'But it would be ill-mannered, when my Elrohir imbibes freely, not to match him, drink for drink...'

'Ai! And so you had the same and he has the worst hangover...?'

'I tell you, it is the human side of me...'

Conversation drifted, settled as the assembled elves ate and drank, some of them looking better after food and restoratives, some of them looking just as poorly as before. Arveldir and Erestor, who were not suffering at all, kept the talk going with gentle consideration for the various levels of hangover at the table. Nobody remarked that Glorfindel was not present; indeed, Erestor mused, nobody, it seemed, had noticed.

Nobody except himself, Arveldir (who missed nothing, ever) and Melpomaen, who spoke quietly to Erestor on his way from the hall.

'I wonder if our seneschal has broken his fast in his rooms this morning as he used to do? Would it be an intrusion, do you think, if I were to go and see if he is in need of a tonic himself?'

Privately, Erestor was of the opinion that Glorfindel's drunken exhibition of the previous night had largely been pretended, but he nodded anyway; it was, after all, entirely possible that the seneschal had resorted to the bottle after he had returned to his chambers.

'I am sure it would be a kindness for you to check on him; it is past his usual hour of rising, wine notwithstanding. If he needs ought from me, I will be in my study for the next hour, the library after that.'

Melpomaen nodded.

'I will go now, then, and see how he is.'

Collecting a beaker of his restorative concoction from the table, just in case, he made his way through the house to Glorfindel's official rooms, knocking on the door and waiting for a reply before entering.

The seneschal was standing on the balcony, his back to the room, looking out over the valley. He didn't look round, didn't even beckon, just began to talk so that Mel was drawn towards him.

'Back in my old chambers again, pity really, but I suppose it's got to be… come and stand with me, Mel, look out over the valley… it's already a bit tired, don't you think? That's me, too, perhaps, looking tired…'

'If anyone has the right to, then it's you, Glorfindel. Are you quite well this morning?'

Glorfindel took a deep breath, kept his eyes fixed on his view, and started talking again.

'Me? Fine… well, no, I'm not, I feel terrible, but it's not a hangover, and that's what you're thinking… Lindir kissed me, Mel, oh, and I… Erestor was worried about him last night, he'd been drinking, you remember, deeper than normal, and so Erestor dragged me along to see if he was in need of anything… sent me in when we heard… heard the poor fellow crying. Went to try and help and he just sort of… launched himself at me and, oh, hardest thing I ever had to do was make him stop… Námo special, all I could think of, well, I couldn't let… I… it wouldn't have been right… told him a story, tried to get him to think he'd been dreaming and it was only because he was lonely and sad and he just needed contact with someone… reason I'm telling you, Melpomaen, is that you love him, don't you? Erestor said, he saw you looking at me before you went away, but it wasn't me, was it? It was Lindir. So you need to know, Mel, if he comes to you with a tale of kisses, it wasn't me, and I wouldn't, I… so lonely lately, Mel, don't know what's up with me, really… you'd think I'd be used to it by now…'

Melpomaen put his arm around Glorfindel's shoulders and gave him a gentle hug.

'Yes, I'm in love with Lindir,' he said. 'All that time spent together, trying to help him, and finding, no, it wasn't just the healer in me responding to his pain, it was my heart reacting to his fëa… then all those hours learning the language at his side, knowing he loved his Kovalia… so it doesn't matter. Even though she's married, although Lindir knows it, well, you know Lindir; he won't let a little thing like that stop him from pining for her…'

Glorfindel chuckled softly.

'Ah, that's our Lindir… why we're so fond of him, of course, his loyalty, how determined he is to keep loving her no matter what. That was the other thing with the kiss, of course he's only ever been drawn to females. But…'

'No, that's not quite right, Findel,' Mel said. 'Lindir believes he's only drawn to females; there's a difference. And perhaps, things being what they are here, that's safest for him. But there is that within him that seeks the truth of a person, and their gender would not matter, just as, with Kovalia, the fact that she is human did not matter to him. But, of course, given his terrible ordeal, I agree he is unlikely to seek male affection. I foresee a long and lonely future ahead, even if he were to find some way to get over her.'

Mel sighed and dropped his arm to stand next to Fin at the balcony, looking out.

'Thank you for telling me, though; should he mention his dream, well, you were the one who supported him most afterwards, you acted as his protector; who else would he dream of?' The healer in Melpomaen kicked in suddenly, reading waves of tiredness and sorrow from the seneschal at his side. 'And what of you, Glorfindel? Did you sleep at all last night?'

'No. Didn't think it'd be a good idea, really. I had the feeling I'd only wake up again shouting, and the house had had enough of a disturbed night already…'

'You said you've been feeling lonely. Are you missing your captain, still?'

'No… yes… little bit… oh, it's not him, Mel… it was the right thing to do, let him go off and be amazing, but it feels at the moment…' He sighed and leaned forward over his clasped hands, turning his head to look at the young healer. 'There must have been a point on your journey when Gondor seemed a long way behind you and the Fiefdom forever away, and you weren't sure what you would find when you got there, yes? Well, that's me at the moment. Triwathon is in my past now, and when we meet – if we meet – it's going to be entirely different, impersonal, almost, it has to be… but Ecthelion… Ecthelion is so far in my future I can't imagine how I'm ever going to get there and…'

He broke off and stumbled back into his rooms. Melpomaen followed, hearing the chink of a glass stopper and guessed Glorfindel had decided strong spirits was as good a way as any to break his fast.

'I have a restorative here, Findel,' he said. 'It will be better for you, I think…'

'All right. Let's see if it mixes with the good stuff, shall we?'

He held out his goblet. With a smile, Mel took it from him, poured his restorative fruit cordial concoction into a fresh beaker and held it out.

'Try that first,' he said. 'Findel – I am sure you are right, that Triwathon is in your past. But that does not mean you do not mind, or do not miss him. Of course, I do not know what it was like when you first met him…'

'Amazing,' Glorfindel said, lifting the beaker and drinking absently, pulling a face as he realised its contents were non-alcoholic. 'At first, he was shy and quiet… fell utterly in love with him as only an old fool can fall in love with a young buck… managed to only be silly about him in private, though, I wasn't that big a fool. And then over the years it settled, it was nice, the edge gone off it a bit, you know? But then the dragon under the mountain, and the War of the Ring and it was such a long time that when he turned up…'

'When he turned up, it was like the first days all over again for you, without any of the time in between. Although you will say I am too young to know from experience, I have seen it, I know it happens. And that the reason why you were able to let him go was that a part of you realised you were no longer in love with him, for all it felt like it; it was just that you needed someone and he was there, and it was all fresh and new again, but changed because he was a hero now…'

'Yes. But it wore off, and I knew… I knew it would deepen, if I let it, if I kept in touch, and it might get too much, too deep. And I didn't have a future to offer him, only a present. And I don't know, I didn't understand why I could be so close to him and yet still say I love Ecthelion, and I still don't know how I can say it, not really, but I feel it, I know he's the one and I'm going home to him one day…'

'Because you know you always were going to go home to him, one day.'

'Going to have a lot of explaining to do. Even though he set me free from our vows, I never thought I'd need that freedom, that I'd ever want… I suppose I was in a new body, a new world and he's… he's dead, he's still dead, as far as I know, I think, oh, he should be alive again by now, but surely I'd know, I'd feel it? Oh, Mel, Ecthelion might still be dead…'

There was so much anguished sorrow in Glorfindel's voice that Mel reached out to lay a hand on his arm.

'You could Sail, you know. Elrond keep saying he's going soon…'

'Do not expect to put me on a ship with our glorious lord and for us both to land unscathed…!'

Melpomaen laughed.

'Well, we could go now. You, me, Lindir… just run for the Havens, jump on a ship…'

'And Cirdan would say, oh, if you wait a bit, Elrond will be along, you can go together, won't that be nice? And even if we did… I don't think Lindir's ready yet…'

'No, I think you're right; I think he would regret it as soon as he boarded. If, indeed, he would even go as far as leaving with us.'

Glorfindel nodded, glad of the change of subject; Lindir was a much safer topic than his own contorted love life…

'What are we going to do with Lindir, Mel? Leave him be to mope, try to be his friends… talk to him about Kovalia – Mesri, whoever she is? Not talk about her?'

'Be guided by him, I think. Findel… if I were to move to the room next to his, would you mind?'

'Me?' No, not at all! I know when Erestor first mentioned my moving back here I was all against it, but after last night…'

'Ah, and that's what that scene in the corridor was about, wasn't it? A reason for Erestor to insist you come back here, to get you away from Lindir's rooms after his… his dream?'

'I don't think I could have pushed him away again. I know I wouldn't have wanted to, but it's not because it's him, just because I'm so…'

'Lonely.'

'…selfish, I was going to say.'

'No, I think it was quite the opposite.' Melpomaen considered for a moment. 'Glorfindel, what you need is a bed-friend.'

Glorfindel snorted restorative fruit cordial out of his nose.

'With Elrond on the prowl? And just who do you suggest?'

'Someone who knows how to avoid Elrond's prowling, perhaps.' Mel paused. 'If I think of someone, shall I let you know?'

'All right. If he's pretty, all right. But I don't want any Silvans, do you hear? Or Galadhrim, if any turn up. Or it would have to be someone I could look in the eye next day. Someone I wouldn't feel ashamed of telling Ecthelion about. Maybe… maybe someone who's a bit lonely, if you can find anyone. But… but not yet, it'd seem wrong, Mel. We need to get Lindir back on his feet first. I'm not in as bad a case as he is, after all.'

'I'll keep your requirements in mind, Findel,' Melpomaen said, smiling. 'Well, I told Lindir I would be available to him if he needed someone to talk to; I had better go.'

Glorfindel nodded.

'And thank you, Mel; you're lovely to talk to, you know. Feel a bit better now.'

'Certainly better than you would if you'd hit your stomach with strong spirits before you'd eaten! If you hurry, there might be some food left in the dining hall.'