Mîrgaer pushed Erestor off, and grumbled, before scrambling to her feet, She reached for Erestor who still lay where he had fallen, "You will have to help me Erestor. I cannot carry your weight."

Erestor looked up at her, his eyes large and dark, he looked lost, and his friend hated to see it.

"Up!" She ordered. Erestor moved then, slowly, like one in pain.

"Come, we shall go to my room." Wrapping her arm about her friend's waist, she guided him towards the hall and the residential chambers beyond.

Gil-Galad and one of his Lords stood upon the balcony looking out across the gardens, talking softly.

"They grow up so fast these days, don't you agree Sire?" Gil-Galad followed his companion's gaze until he could see Erestor and his companion approaching from the direction of the lake, arms wrapped about each other like lovers.

The High King smiled slightly, "I think you will find that those two are only friends, nothing more."

The two elflings acknowledged the presence of the two elder elves as they passed and continued on through the garden. Noting the grass stains that were clearly visible on the back of the young elleth's gown, the Lord answered "Indeed Sire." And grinned, "Young love is so sweet"

Gil-Galad frowned, he had been so certain that there was nothing more than friendship there. He shook his head slightly in bemusement as he felt a touch to his arm; he looked to Corupeth who had appeared at his side.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, Sire, but the delegation from Arvernien has arrived and I thought it prudent to present them, even at this late hour."

Gil-Galad sighed, "They are late, I hope no ill befell them?"

"Nay, I do not think so, My Lord, they were blown some way off course due to strong winds from the East, I understand their journey was longer than expected, that is all."

Gil-Galad nodded once, "very well, let us greet them." Turning to the Lord at his side, he added, "Find Glorfindel and have him join us in the ante chamber of the throne room."

The party disappeared inside, just as Glorfindel was making his way across the lawn.


Glorfindel scanned the hall, but could not see Erestor anywhere, he cursed softly in frustration.

His young companion from earlier announced his presence by a soft touch to the small of his back.

"Might I be of some assistance, My Lord?"

Glorfindel looked into his eyes and turned his face away, almost shyly, "I cannot find him."

"Well," he paused, "I heard tell, that Mîr was spotted not so long ago walking through the gardens looking like she had been rolling in mud. While this does not surprise me in the least, there are rumours that her state was due to a tryst." He laughed brightly, stopping abruptly at the Golden Lord's glare. "Do not fear, My Lord, it is more likely that she was actually rolling in mud!"

"Lord Glorfindel!" The dark haired Lord crossed the floor, his strides giving away the urgency of his errand.

Glorfindel turned to meet the elf.

"The King wishes you to join him in greeting the elves from Arvernien"

"Where?"

"The ante chamber, My Lord."

Glorfindel nodded once and turned back to his companion. The young elf smiled, "You go, I will do what I can."

"Thank you, and if Mîr's honour has been compromised in any way, she will find a champion in me."

The fair-haired elf nodded once and bowed slightly.


"I had hoped to see a representative of the Sindar population that share your city amongst you." Gil-Galad stated, "Though I am glad to welcome you nonetheless."

The mortal man amongst those present observed the High King with understanding, "You must understand Sire, that if the Sindar were slow to trust afore, they are doubly unlikely to do so now. There are many among them that take our presence amongst them with distrust at best, outright hostility at worst, though they would not cause us physical harm, the damage done by the sons of Fëanor cannot be erased overnight. They do not see the Noldor in a good light. I hope that in time these wounds will lessen, I fear they will never be truly erased."

Gil-Galad nodded, turning his attention to the slender dark haired elf, who he noted was no more than a few years over his majority, he recognised the colours and uniform he wore.

"You are of the House of The Golden Flower?"

"I am Sire, I was page to Lord Glorfindel."

The man interjected, "The boy would like to take up his previous role to his Lord, that is if we have not been fooled by untrue tales of the dead returned!"

"You have not been fooled in the least I can assure you, and you would be most welcome, upon your Lord's agreement."

The young elf smiled shyly.

A soft knock sounded, and Gil-Galad looked to the door and rose.

"Enter."

Glorfindel entered, shutting the door behind him, "I apologise for the…" he started to say as he turned to face the elves present, the words dying in his throat as he took note of those present.

The mortal man stepped forward his hand outstretched.

A slight smile played at the corner of Glorfindel's mouth as he spoke, "My Lord Tuor?" he attempted to bow but found himself embraced instead, "My Lord?"

The man laughed, "If any have earned the right to drop my title, it is you my friend, no more titles between us."

Glorfindel looked dazed but managed to nod in reply.

Gil-Galad smiled and handed the Golden Lord a goblet of wine, which he downed in one go before turning his attention to the other two elves present.

An elf with dark hair that Glorfindel was sure he recognised only as a dirt covered refugee stepped forward, "You do not know me, My Lord, I was a scribe under the employ of Lord Turgon, and now act as advisor."

Glorfindel nodded in respect to the councillor and as the elf stepped aside he gasped, "Dînnen?"

The shy young page bowed, "My Lord."

The Golden Lord laughed, and stepping forward pulled the young elf into a heartfelt embrace, "The Valar be praised, I am not the last of my house."

Gil-Galad cleared his throat, "I am certain that you have much to talk about, I will leave you now, but we will speak again before you leave on the morrow."

Those present bowed their heads as The High King swept out of the room.


A/N Arvernien is the land at the mouth of the Sirion where the remnants of the elves of Doriath and the refugees of Gondolin settled.

Apologies for the delay, I've been having computer problems

Crecy, CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur, and RMC – Thank you so much for your comments