A/N charlie, thank you for you comments, I'll update as quickly as I can!
Asha Dreamweaver:o) you'll have to wait and see, I'm glad you like it so far
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Gil-Galad strolled along the docks, acknowledging those that greeted him as he passed. The docks were busy; several ships had docked that morning, filled with those that would spend the Gates of Summer on Círdan's isle. Círdan had arrived the previous day, exhausted from his most recent journey and was resting in the castle; it was unlikely he would make an appearance until the feast, so Gil-Galad would perform the duties of host during the day.
Through the crowds he glimpsed the grey of a pointed hat and grinned. When Mithrandir had not arrived as planned the previous day, he had feared the Istari would not make it for Glorfindel's begetting day, and had been preparing himself to deal with the young elf's disappointment, he was pleased to see his fears unfounded. The Istari seemed to have taken on the role of Grandfather to the young elf, they had become close over the years and Mithrandir had not missed this day in the past ten, despite the other obligations that were surely pressing on his time. Again he was reminded that he must press the Istari regarding Glorfindel's dreams, which, Erestor told him, were growing worse each day now, and was likely the reason that he had dined alone this morning.
The Elf Lord and Istari greeted each other warmly, and returned to the castle together locked in conversation.
"Mithrandir!"
Gil-Galad looked about the castle courtyard to located the caller, only to be swept aside by a Golden haired whirlwind, who bowed briefly to them both before launching himself into the Istari's arms, Mithrandir's deep laugh could be heard throughout the courtyard and brought a smile to all those present.
Mithrandir studied the young elf at arms reach before releasing him. He smiled at Gil-Galad, before cocking his head to one side attempting to look past him, "greetings young Erestor."
Gil-Galad took a step to the side, revealing a small dark haired elf in the dark robes of a scribe, the elf bowed formally and Gil-Galad put his hand on Erestor's shoulder as he rose. Mithrandir nodded his head in acknowledgement of Erestor's bow, and was struck by the pose that Gil-Galad had taken, with his hand resting upon Erestor's shoulder he looked every inch the proud guardian. Knowing how much had been taken from the young elf, and of the suffering he would still need to endure, he was gladdened to see that Erestor was clearly loved, though there were times he still wished he could interfere, it was not his place to do so.
After making arrangements to meet Lords Gil-Galad and Círdan for the midday meal, Glorfindel made his way to the training grounds to prepare for the contest in the afternoon. Erestor strolled off purposefully; he still needed to collect Glorfindel's begetting day gift.
Gil-Galad guided Mithrandir to his study, where they settled in to discuss the progress of his oldest charge, and matters of middle earth in general. Círdan joined them, having been sent word of the wizard's arrival.
"Glorfindel looks tired," Mithrandir stated.
"He is plagued by dreams of Gondolin." Gil-Galad replied, he watched the old wizard's face, suspecting that he would see no surprise there, and indeed Mithrandir merely nodded, his expression solemn.
"Mithrandir, I know you like your secrets but Glorfindel is dear to me and I know not how to help him, if he is a seer, he can be trained to cope with his gift, and the things he sees," Gil-Galad blanched slightly. "Mithrandir, he sees the fall of Gondolin! Should we be sending King Turgon aid?"
Mithrandir turned away from Gil-Galad and Círdan to look out of the balcony doors. "Gondolin has fallen."
Gil-Galad closed his eyes briefly in defeat, grief settling over him like a shroud.
"When?" Gil-Galad looked up at Círdan's word and as Mithrandir moved back to his chair and sat.
"The attack began at dawn today, you will learn more in a few weeks. I will see to Glorfindel."
Círdan looked at Gil-Galad and then back to Mithrandir, "Will you tell us of Turgon's fate?"
Mithrandir looked thoughtful, "look into your heart I believe you will know the answers you seek, I can say no more."
Círdan lowered his gaze to the ground.
Gil-Galad slammed his goblet down onto the desk and rose, red-hot fury showing on his face, "You call yourself an elf friend, yet you come to us too late, having likely known all along, do you come to gloat?"
"Gil!" The warning in Círdan's voice was clear.
Círdan rose and took a few steps towards Gil-Galad, his face filled with concern and ignoring for the moment the pain in his own heart; he drew the younger elf into a loose embrace
"Please forgive him Mithrandir, 'tis his grief that talks."
The wizard rose and nodded slightly, "I will leave you for a time."
Mithrandir left the room silently, shutting the door behind him.
Círdan held Gil-Galad at arms length, "your anger is misdirected; you will need to apologise for that outburst later."
Gil-Galad moved away from Círdan, "Aye, I know, but I do not see the sense in it, in him. The Valar sent him to aid us, yet he does nothing!"
Círdan poured two goblets of wine, and handed one to Gil-Galad. "The ways of the Valar are not for us to judge. The Istari aid us where they can, you know this."
Gil-Galad sighed heavily, taking a large draught of wine.
"Long has Turgon known of the prophecies, Gil, Tuor warned him, and you yourself sent him warning, did you not? All was done that could have been done. I know it is small consolation, and does little to ease the hurt, but such is the way of things."
"I do not want the crown." Gil-Galad stated, looking just like an elfling to Círdan at that moment, "I do not want it!"
"I know" Círdan replied softly, "Mithrandir has given you some time to get used to the idea, and you must."
