~*~*~
He'd met the silver-haired elf before. The memory was vague, little more than a fleeting impression, but he was certain.
How many elves had beards?
Bronwe had told him on the walk over not to touch it – the beard. And he admitted, watching the shipwright's silver hair as it caught the light, moving with the sea breezes, it was intriguing. Was it soft like other hair, or bristly, like the pigs had been?
"Do you remember Alqualondë, Glorfindel?"
Blinking back to the present, he stared a bit owlishly at Círdan. "Who?"
The mariner chuckled, shaking his head at Bronwe. "I gather not." Taking the younger elf's arm, he led him over to a table where quite a few large parchments were laid out. Found what he was looking for and pulled it carefully out, laying it on top. "There. Haven of the Teleri back some time ago."
Bronwe offered a sympathetic nod at his sigh. They stepped a ways apart, leaving Glorfindel to examine the maps. "His memories are still settling."
"Like water when you stir up the silt." Cirdan nodded, pursing a lip as he watched the blonde. "You're keeping him busy then?"
She chuckled. "As much as possible. He's…" Small shrug. "Energetic."
"Need someone to keep him busy for a time?"
Wrinkled her nose, feeling transparent under that ancient gaze. "Just for a bit. I have some patients to check on."
"Go," he chuckled. "There's always something to do around a shipyard. And…" He looked around. "I doubt he will find much to call forth memories here."
"He doesn't look Teleri, eh?"
Cirdan laughed at that, squeezing her shoulder. "Find us later, Bron. Don't forget the gathering tonight."
She nodded and walked over to touch Glorfindel's arm. "Would you mind staying here for a time, Glor? I have several patients to see. I think you would find it rather boring."
"With Círdan?"
Bronwe nodded.
Shrugged one shoulder. "I'll stay."
With a nod for Cirdan, the healer left, waving to others that called greetings to her.
"Come along then, Glorfindel." Cirdan gestured for him to follow. "Have you ever hung out nets, or repaired them?"
~*~*~
Cirdan sat mending the net quietly, content in watching the waves as his hands went through motions almost second nature to him.
"I was there…at least once."
The mariner looked up, across the net, to where Glorfindel was frowning. "Where?"
"Haven of the Swans."
Cirdan arched an eyebrow, slowly nodding as he gazed at the younger elf.
The longer he was around him, the more certain he was he had seen him. Silver eyes unfocused as long memories played out.
A Vanyar Lord, young, but carrying himself with the air of confidence and pride all Vanyar were born with. With him… Cirdan shook his head, not quite able to recall who it was. She hadn't been Teleri, but she had been beautiful. He nodded again, blinking to focus back on his companion. "Do you remember why?"
Pursing a lip, the blonde moved to a new section of net. "Lal wanted to see… someone."
Glorfindel looked up. "I remember the arch and the ships."Cirdan sighed. That haven was gone, burned. Ashes and memory.
"I'm sorry."
He stared. "Why should you be sorry, Glorfindel?" Sighed as the old bitterness rose up, closing his eyes and shaking it off. "You weren't a part of the kinslaying." Looked up again. "Were you?"
"No." But the sadness in the blue eyes was clear. "I knew those who were." Frowned at the memory of cold. Ice. A journey that seemed to never end. "I… followed Turgon. He was a friend." Waved a hand as if swatting at annoying memories.
"And ended in Gondolin." Cirdan nodded. "Both of you."
Rather wry smile. "Yes." His gaze went back towards the city. "And young Eärendil lived to marry Elwing, granddaughter of Lúthien." Glorfindel shook his head. "How it all came together..."
"And now here you have been reunited here, with their son." Another snort. "In the city of the Turgon's nephew."
"Yes." Huge sigh as Glorfindel threw his head back to gaze up at the sky. "Never doubt the Valar have a sense of humour."
~*~*~
"I still smell like fish," Glorfindel grumbled as he sniffed his sleeve.
Bronwe sighed. "I suppose this means I can't pawn you off on Círdan?" Slanted a sly grin at him which he returned.
"No." A small gasp from beside him and he looked around warily, only to stop in surprise as Bronwe darted forward. She threw herself at the elf wearing the blue and silver uniform of the soldiers he'd seen around town. The soldier staggered back from the enthusiastic greeting, wrapping his arms around her to swing her around once, laughing.
Glorfindel continued walking, coming up on the pair quietly enough to startle the other man.
Long, light brown hair, braided back off his face, dressed in the blue and silver uniform of Gil-galad's forces, the elf looked up. Dark blue eyes took the measure of the other elf. "One of your patients, Wenna?"
Hackles raising at the arrogant tone, Glorfindel's eyes narrowed.
"Arantar, did you read anything I sent to you?" Bronwe gave an exasperated sigh. "This is Glorfindel."
"Ah…" He had been given to think the elf was ill. Rather…childlike.
This was no child facing him. Arantar had been in the military long enough to recognize someone with an air of command. A surety that did not come from being a simple farmer. The eyes gazing levelly back at him gave no quarter.
Arantar nodded. "Glorfindel." Arched an eyebrow as his jaw tightened a bit. "Of the late Gondolin, or so I've heard?" Leaving no doubt how he felt on that matter.
He might have forgotten a great many things. Words, places, people… But an insulting tone of voice was the same now as it had been before. The Noldor arrogance bred true in this one. "And you are?" The most haughty, condescending tone he could remember.
Bronwe's eyes widened at the chilling tone, one she'd never heard from the blonde. His whole demeanor was different as he stood with a haughty, almost bored expression.
With a blink, she stopped staring and stepped between them. "Glor this is Arantar, my betrothed. Arantar, yes, this is Glorfindel." Heard the sniff and almost stomped her foot. He could be the worst snob sometimes! "He spent the morning and afternoon working with Círdan, mending nets and the like."
Slight frown for both of them. The 'play nice' all but verbal as the stare- down continued.
Arantar blinked first, bowing stiffly. "Welcome to Mithlond."
There was suspicion in the gaze, a wariness that made Glorfindel smile. Understandable, wasn't it? He was in the same residence as the man's fiancée after all. Quirking an eyebrow, he offered a courtly bow. "My thanks."
Bronwe slipped a hand through his arm. "Are you back for a time? There's a gather tonight…"
The smile he turned and offered her was warm. "A bit, yes. Until they change their minds and send us back. Speaking of which, I must give my report to my Captain."
"The gather?" Bronwe leaned into him, a hopeful smile curving her mouth.
Chuckling, he leaned forward to kiss her. "I'll return as soon as I can, Wenna. Go without me if I'm not back in time." He nodded at her frown. "I'll find you."
A polite nod to Glorfindel and Arantar turned to stride up the lane.
Pursing his lip, Glorfindel watched until the soldier disappeared. "He doesn't like me."
"He's just overly protective." Browne gestured the blonde into the cottage. "Think of how he sees it, Glor. He comes back, and here I am with a stranger living in my home. One who claims to be the reborn slayer of a Balrog from Gondolin." Her smile was wry as he stopped, frowning at her. "If you were in his place how would you take the situation?"
He was silent for a moment before shaking his head. No, he would not say it, but he would not doubt her. She was almost painfully transparent at times, but not the type he had known in court; duplicitous and conniving. In contrast, Bronwe was almost...simple Uncomplicated. "Does he know Elrond?"
"Yes, and that…" Bronwe sank into a chair with a sigh. "Is another sore subject."
Crossing his arms, Glorfindel stopped in front of her. "Why?"
Lacing her fingers, Bronwe shook her head. This wasn't her favourite thing to discuss. "He's not wholly comfortable with my being a healer, accessible to any and all." She looked up as Glorfindel sat facing her. "My own family was protective of me as well, Glor. Even here, seemingly on my own…" Waved a hand. "The city guard patrols every hour."
The blonde considered that for a moment. "Because you're a healer?"
Bronwe shrugged one shoulder, sinking further into the chair and looking very young in her uncertainty. "Yes…I suppose, and I'm an unmarried female on my own when Arantar is not here." Snorting, she pushed herself up suddenly, stalking to a bookcase. Bit a lip as she turned. "There are so many places I long to see, and not just in these." Gestured to the books. "But…our people leave these lands more and more each year, making those of us who do stay…"
"Valuable."
She wrinkled her nose. "That makes it sound as though we're dragon gold."
Glorfindel snorted, shaking his head. "Is precious more acceptable?"
"Yes." She grinned.
"I begin to see though." He walked to a window, gazing out at the garden. "Círdan said many elves left for Aman when Beleriand sunk. The times when we walked the lands without challenge have passed."
"Yes."
He saw what she was not saying as well. "I don't see many children."
Regretted it almost immediately as her expression became distant."There are children." Bronwe walked past him, heading upstairs. "Fewer each year, but…there are children."
Leaving Glorfindel to wonder what error he had committed. Scratching at his neck, grimacing for the fish smell, he headed for the bath.
~*~*~
The night was crystal clear, offering an unparalleled view of the stars.
Called by the lull of the waves and sea, the Teleri of the Grey Havens gathered to talk and celebrate their culture in a community more strongly known for its Noldor influence. Though all living there had forgiven the past atrocities, none forgot, and the bonds of clan drew them closer to those of their blood for nights spent singing and dancing under the stars.
Prying determinedly at the oyster, Glorfindel missed seeing Círdan's amused look. "You might want to eat the cooked ones, Glorfindel." He pointed to a large pot sitting atop a warming fire.
"I remember them this way."
Cirdan chuckled at the sly grin. "I'm sure you do."
Tossing the obstinate clam into the pot, the blonde stuck the knife back in its sheath and leaned forward, forearms on his thighs. "What is wrong in Eregion that Elrond and Gil-galad must stay so long there?"
Pursing a lip, Círdan shook his head. "There is a spreading darkness over that land."
"Morgoth?"
Shaking his head, waving down the rise of alarm he saw in the other, Círdan looked out at the ocean. "No, this evil is named Sauron." Shrewd silver eyes met the light blue gaze. "But its aim is ever the same."
Glorfindel nodded, frowning thoughtfully as he picked up another clam. This one opened under his knife and he cawed in victory before gulping it down.
Círdan made a moue of distaste, not fond of raw oysters. Still, he let the younger ones have their illusions of what delightful properties the raw oysters supposedly held. Younglings had some of the strangest ideas of romance and love, mixing it up so badly sometimes they didn't even know love when they saw it right before them.
Too many of the Eldar had passed over the seas, leaving their families to struggle the best they could. It was making for some very confused younger elves.
Then again, almost everyone was 'younger' compared to Círdan.
"Be careful with that, my friend."
"What is?" Glorfindel uncorked the bottle, sniffing curiously.
Círdan didn't correct his grammar, he just grinned. "Honey Mead." Seeing the most definite interest in his younger companion, Círdan shrugged and reached behind him for a mug. "Go slowly, Glorfindel. It's potent."
The blonde nodded, almost smacking his lips in anticipation.
~*~*~
Nestled at Arantar's side, arm around his waist, Bronwe reached up to comb his hair back with her fingers. "Why so solemn, love?" He was tense. She could have sensed it even without a healer's training. Tense, irritable…and hardly said anything since arriving.
Just scowled at the fire.
His arm briefly tightened around her shoulders, his gaze meeting hers before he looked away. "I really can't tell you, Wenna."
She sighed, dropping her head back to his shoulder. As if she didn't know. All he'd talked about, when he talked, was Eregion. A smile curled her lips and she leaned into him, trailing a hand from his shoulder to caress his chest. Sliding it lower, slowly.
"Wenna," he admonished gently, capturing her hand and leading it back up to his shoulder. "I have a reputation to maintain as an officer in Gil-galad's service."
Noldor, through and through, even as he sat amidst a sea of Teleri. The singers, who were in full-swing celebration already, voices raised to the sky and sea. Dancing in the waves. Everywhere, celebrating life.
With a huff, Bronwe pulled away from him, sitting up. She could do nothing right where he was concerned tonight. It wouldn't get better, and if he didn't want to be coaxed from it, that was his problem. Rising to her feet, she shook her gown free of sand.
"I need to talk to Melian and see how her baby is doing." Wished that she could stomp off, but sand really didn't allow for that.
She walked past Círdan and Glorfindel who looked to be having a hilarious time recounting various memories.
In Quenya?
Shook her head for the oddities of ancient elves and continued on.
~*~*~
They spoke over his head, too quickly to follow, in a dialect he thought must be of Teleri origins.
Certainly not one his fogged, aching head could follow. Groaning, grabbing his stomach, Glorfindel stopped walking to bend forward, retching.
Cool hands held the hair out of his face, kneeling with him as he fell forward on his hands and knees, heaving the contents of his stomach up on the beach.
Círdan grimaced, steadying Glorfindel. Trying to ignore the glare Bronwe was shooting at him as she rubbed the blonde's back soothingly.
"Let's just get him back to the cottage."
"Is he done heaving yet?" Fish guts were one thing. Watching a companion empty his stomach another. Círdan avoided looking at anything but the sky or the ocean.
"He's throwing up bile, Círdan." Bronwe huffed as they got the blonde to his feet, heading towards her home.
Oh, she was angry all right. Angry at him for giving Glorfindel so much mead and rich food.
How was he supposed to know the blonde wasn't used to such things? Just because he was recently returned and newly embodied?
Once home, Bronwe went to the pantry, gathered several herbs, and mixed them quickly. Adding them to water, she set the concoction in front of Glorfindel. "Drink it. All of it, and quickly. It will settle your stomach." She shot an arch look at Círdan. "And help get rid of the toxins."
"That was a good mead!" Círdan snorted as he sat, watching Glorfindel wrinkle his nose at the glass set before him. "Best drink it, Glor. She'll hound you until you do."
"Hound?" Bronwe arched an eyebrow. "Just who nags whom about going out on boats?"
"Ships." Cirdan shrugged. "It's no insult, child. All healers are a bit on the tenacious side." He shook his head. "Hard to believe you were once so quiet I thought you were mute."
Rolling her eyes, Bronwe sat next to him, across from Glorfindel. "Unless you're partial to barfing bile, burning your throat and living with a pounding head all day..." She pointed. "Drink."
"It's green." Glorfindel grimaced, stomach rolling at the mere sight.
"Drink it or I'll hold your nose and pour it down your throat." Said in a deceptively quiet voice, that made the blonde blink.
He drank it as quickly as possible, grimacing at the taste. "Ugh!" Thudded the glass down to rub his throat, coughing.
Bronwe shook her head, watching his dramatics with mild amusement. "Would you rather puke all day?"
"Waste of good mead." Círdan tsk'd, shaking his head. "Silinde's too."
Glorfindel snorted, standing to go get some water and wash away the overpowering herbal taste. Gulping an entire glass, he brought a full one back to the table and sat. "My stomach hurts."
"Told you to eat the cooked clams," Círdan muttered.
Bronwe stood. "Sounds as though you're both fine." Heading for the stairs, to call over her shoulder, "Good night."
Waiting until he could no longer hear her footsteps, Glorfindel muttered, "It's morning."
Círdan nodded, grinning.
"Where is Arantar?" Glorfindel hadn't seen him since he'd left the gather rather suddenly.
"He's a soldier, Glor."
"So was I." The blonde shrugged.
"A professional soldier." Círdan nodded, seeing the comprehension on the other's face. He stood, stretching. "And I have a shipyard to oversee. Don't suppose you want to join me?"
A cautious look as he stood, Glorfindel waited for his stomach to rebel. When it was quiet, not even a tiny gurgle, he nodded. "No fish gutting though. Not today."
"No?" Smirking, Círdan nodded. "Very well. Let's see if we can get you out on a ship and find if you have sea legs."
~*~*~
TBC