~*~*~
Swinging his restive mount around Glorfindel found himself facing Celeborn. For a moment the two stared, as if sizing each other up. A smile curled Glorfindel's lips as his stallion pranced sideways, and he bowed his head. "Lord Celeborn."
Dark eyebrows rose though the man's face remained impassive. "Tell me, Lord Glorfindel. Have you regained your memories?"
"Many, yes." Leaning forward to pat his horse's neck, Glorfindel cast a look around. It wouldn't do to be left behind by the hunt, but they were still looking for the trail of the cunning old boar that was wreaking havoc on the gardens. Stilling his mount, he met the pale silver-blue eyes evenly. "Do you wait for an apology?"
"Do you tend one?"
"No." He had nothing to lose, no reason to bow to those he didn't respect. Not this time. Let them look him in the eyes and say he had no knowledge of what he spoke of, Glorfindel knew better.
He knew a great deal, and that knowledge and power was in his gaze.
The pale elf nodded. "You misunderstand my lady I think."
"My Lord Celeborn..." Glorfindel pursed a lip, considering the elf before him. He had no memory of him, the one who had married Galadriel sometime after he'd lost track of his distant cousin. Possibly in Doriath as he'd heard she'd gone to Melian for tutoring. Either way, Celeborn was an unknown, but seemed steady enough.
A good match for a seer.
"My cousin is many things to many people, and I will not lie to you. She and I have ever been at odds."
"She lifted no weapon against the Falas."
A blond eyebrow winged upwards. "No, and yet she is banned from going west, is she not?" Glorfindel frowned, impatient with the conversation. He felt no need to explain himself, and yet here he was, doing just that. Only because he felt the man before him due such. "She is my cousin, lord, that I acknowledge, though not with any great love. I doubt she speaks of me any differently. I advise you let that stand."
The words were met with a frown, and Glorfindel wondered if this mate of Galadriel would demand some sort of honour from him. Foolishness, and yet less sane things had been done in the name of love.
"Do not defame her again in public." Celeborn's voice was calm, but held an edge. "Regardless you are family, she is my wife."
"And will she promise the same for me, milord?" Glorfindel shook his head. "Court is as it has always been, Lord Celeborn. No rules have changed since I last breathed in Enndore." He bowed again, smile curling his lips. "And your wife is exceedingly good at Court politics if I recall."
"She is." Celeborn sighed, frowning. "You leave me at a loss."
Glorfindel chuckled. "As I do many." His smile was genuine. "Your wife, milord, is quite capable of defending herself. And then some."
A horn called the hunt on again, and Glorfindel nodded, reining his mount around. "We're off!"
Celeborn watched the blonde gallop off with a slight frown, following at a slower pace. He had no love for the hunt, though he enjoyed getting into the woods and riding. Mulling the words, he decided to keep his own council of their talk.
Galadriel was many things, indeed, but seers were never the easiest people to live with.
Nor love.
~*~*~
She found him in the kitchen in the middle of the night again, absently drawing with a charcoal pencil he had found. Belting the deep green robe, Bronwe sat across from him.
He looked up, expression solemn. "Memories walking abroad again?" Didn't miss the musky scent on her skin or the way her hand kept going to her neck. It hadn't been so long since he last lived that he didn't recognize the scent or a passion mark.
Wry smile as she coloured slightly. He would tease anyone else, but he had realized she was a very private person, regardless that she seemed to welcome strangers into her home. Círdan had said he wasn't the first 'wounded bird', nor the last. Like her mentor, Bronwe had a habit of treating any who came to her door for help, regardless of race.
At least until she married, and then... Well, it seemed she and Arantar didn't agree on what would happen after that.
Making him wonder again what had drawn the two together. It was hard to conceive of a more opposite pairing.
Controlling the snort with an effort, Glorfindel glanced up again and frowned. "Bron?"
Shaking off her inattention, she met his gaze. "Sorry. No, not dreams tonight, Glor." With a sigh she traced a whorl in the wood of the table. Tilted her head to look at what he was drawing, hair spilling over her shoulder. "You draw very well." Looked up with a smile.
"Thank you." He sat back, setting the pencil down. "I was thinking it was time I found somewhere of my own."
Eyes widening, Bronwe stared for a moment, frowned and rested her arms on the table to lean forward. "Glorfindel –"
He shook his head. "I make it uncomfortable here." Gestured up the stairs. "He does not like me being here."
A snort as her frown grew. "Glorfindel…" With a sigh, she met his gaze. "Arantar's unit is going back out in another day. As much progress as you have made, I truly don't think going out on your own is good idea. Not yet." At his snort, she smiled. "And Elrond would lecture me for turning you lose only mostly acclimated. He's quite the perfectionist you know."
A reluctant smile curved his lips. "He lectures?"
She rolled her eyes. "At times." Standing, she picked a book up from the end of the table, turning it over in her hands. "There is an alternative."
Correcting a line before looking up, he cocked his head. "Oh?"
"Círdan would more than likely be happy to offer you a room. He lives in a rambling house on the bay." Bronwe leaned against the doorway. "It's far too large for just him, but he does enjoy playing Lord of the Grey Havens."
"Playing?" Glorfindel's eyebrows rose. "Isn't he?"
"Yes." She grinned. "But it's still rather funny to watch him grouse about having to dress formally and play host." Pushing upright, she nodded. "I'll be happy to release you to Círdan, Glorfindel. But on your own? No."
Chuckling, Glorfindel sketched a mock bow from where he sat. "I hear and will abide, Mistress Healer."
Rolling her eyes, Bronwe turned to walk into the main room. Most likely to curl up in her favourite chair in front of the fire. She seemed to sleep as little as he did.
Shaking his head, wondering yet again what would draw a person so given to selflessness to one like Arantar, Glorfindel returned to his drawing.
~*~*~
He moved his few belongings in to an empty room in Círdan's home the next day.
Bronwe didn't protest. She nodded as he finished telling her, and smiled wryly.
He didn't leave empty-handed though. She'd sent him off with a supply of parchment papers, charcoal, ink and quills. Any protests were waved away or ignored.
"That's what they do, Glor. Heal a soul to move along and get on with their own life."
Sitting on the bed, staring at the book he'd found in his bundle of things, the book that he'd admired once, Glorfindel looked up, clearly confused. "But..." Shaking his head, he looked out the window to the ocean. "This isn't healing, Círdan. This is generosity beyond..." He opened the book, gazing at the delicate Quenya bordered by swirling patterns of knots and intricately designed animals. Touched the page that showed Elwing taking the form of a bird.
"Glor." Cirdan squeezed his shoulder, smiling. "Accept it and say no more. Bron's more Silvan than anything and you don't question a gift from a wood-Elf, not if you want to stay friends." He shrugged. "They're a quirky lot at times, but once you're accepted, you're a part of their...family."
"Her family is all gone."
"Yes." Círdan thought for a moment and shrugged. "Those she'll tell me about, yes."
"I don't understand her."
That gained a chuckle as the silver-haired elf walked out of the room. "You're in good company, lad."
Shaking his head, setting the book carefully on a table, Glorfindel stood and stood in front of the window. Watching the waves and the ships anchored in the harbour.
This life was so very different from the previous. So much more...simple.
And that was all right.
~*~*~
Leaves were falling, blowing down the cobblestones of the streets before Elrond and Gil-galad returned to the city. Their return heralded the beginning of festival week, as well as a certain tenseness that always existed when the King was present. As if his very presence goaded the nobles into their posturing.
Which it did.
Elves and Númenoreans poured into the city, bringing with them more noise, more gold and more trouble.
"You cannot turn me away! You are a healer." The blonde noble thrust his bloody hand, wrapped hastily in someone's handkerchief in her face. "I am injured! Heal me."
"There are others in this community and I have every right to refuse to treat you, Thranduil." Blocking the door to her cottage with her body, Bronwe crossed her arms and glared at the noble. "I will not treat your kind. Ever."
She'd rather die than touch this one.
Glancing at the hand still held in front of her she made a scoffing noise. "It probably but needs several stitches." Raising cold grey eyes to meet the angry blue, she shook her head. "Go or I'll call for the city guard."
"What's going on here?" Arantar, just returned from receiving his orders, dressed in the dark blue and silver uniform of Gil-galad's forces, frowned at the threatening scowl of the other male. He walked up to stand behind her, hand on her shoulder. "Bronwe, is there a problem?"
She wanted to scream. This was the very circumstance that aggravated Arantar, making him declare once they were married she could no longer be a healer.
He would not have her placed in danger.
"No. I believe this ...man was just leaving."
Cursing sharply, Thranduil spun on his heel and stalked away, cradling his hand.
"Who was that, Wenna? Should I summon the city guard on him?" Arantar cradled her shoulders, sensing her agitation. "You should not have to endure this sort of ugliness." This was precisely the thing that incensed him. No genteel female should have to put up with such harsh treatment.
With a short laugh, Bronwe turned to rest a hand on his chest, smiling at him. "Just a visitor in for the festivities." Threading her arm through his, she urged him away from the door. "Tell me what your captain said."
~*~*~
TBC