2938

She stopped short, motionless after her mouth fell open. This cannot be. In the courtyard, a crowd formed to greet the recent arrival, every face smiling except for one -- to Gilraen's knowledge, even elvish horses could not smile.

After a bout of basking in admiration, the beast stepped forward to pause at the foot of the stairs. Not fully grown, Gilraen estimated his age at two years, though he moved with the grace of a steed tried and proven. Raising and turning his head, he eyed her; such was the intelligence in his gaze that when he blinked, Gilraen could not differentiate it from a wink. It cannot be. Yet no other horse had ever regarded her in such a way.

"Asfaloth!" cried an Elf from behind. A blur of golden hair flew by, with laughter like a ringing of bells. "Asfaloth!"

Incredulous, Gilraen watched as Glorfindel descended the stairs to embrace the young stallion. Looking up towards her, tears shone on his bright face, tears of joy. For several moments, he fussed over the animal, inspecting every joint and limb, exclaiming his satisfaction all the while. Finally, he leapt away. "Come, Asfaloth, come! You journeyed long to reach home, and long shall be your reception." He walked backwards then, speaking of carrots, combing, and all manner of equine indulgences.

The horse followed, nudging playfully at the Elf's center, but paused once Glorfindel had turned to continue walking forward. Unobserved, save to Gilraen, the steed glanced back at her, nickered with a toss of his head, and sprinted off to rejoin his master.

Decided then, she headed down the stairs. A few Elves remained below, chatting amongst themselves of Glorfindel's happiness, Asfaloth's return, and something about Gondolin that Gilraen did not understand. She heard nothing indicative of surprise in particular. But then, no one had ever seemed surprised. She recalled times when Estel had mentioned Asfaloth, his impeding return, and how uncomfortable she would become, more so that Elf after Elf humoured her son unhesitatingly. Even Elrond. Or so she had thought.

On the winding paths through gardens and structures, she made her way to the training grounds, then the sparring ring. There, a few pairs were amid mock combat, while several Elves lingered near the surrounding benches, waiting for or recovering from their own engagements. She sought out a familiar face, and approached Telmoth.

Yet another whom I had begrudged. Estel once asked the Elf why Glorfindel mourned if he would meet Asfaloth again. 'Because it is his way,' she had said; 'but for that reason I mourn not, and I think neither should you.'

Feeling somewhat inferior, as she had not since first coming to live in Elrond's house, Gilraen looked upon Telmoth and waited for recognition. I wager she has lost no sleep these past years, and owes no apologies this day. Which of us is the wiser, I should not wonder.

"Aye, like timid maidens," the Elf was saying to another as they surveyed the proceedings. Telmoth acknowledged Gilraen with a nod, and seemed to dismiss her similarly. "It is noon. Elrond should be in his library."

"After he and my son return from foraging for herbs, perhaps." The Elf gave a short huff, which Gilraen endeavored not to make her repeat. "But might you know where Elrond's firstborn enjoys himself today, if not in your own fine company?"

Telmoth's eyelids lowered, and she made a strange movement: Gilraen likened it to how Estel might hug himself for a job well done. "Indeed, he was here earlier, when the elders had the field, though he left before I could wound aught other than his pride. I would look to find him at the nearest bathing spring."

"Ah, well, I would not." Gilraen lifted her chin at the Elf's raised brow. "Would not disturb him, I mean. Mayhap you know of his plans for this evening?"

"I have not seen him in the evening for all this season."

Neither had Gilraen, and remembering how unpredictably Elrond's sons were known to depart, she resolved to seek him out sooner than later. She left Telmoth and her companion debating the difference twixt subterfuge and technique.

Elladan was not present at the first or second site visited, and according to those Elves singing with the water and each other, he had not been observed coming or going. By the third, Gilraen approached and paused only near enough to hear splashing; when no songs followed, she continued along the path.

Ahead, the trail wound sharply around an outcropping of rock. Gilraen did not frequent the springs, but remembered that this pool lay just opposite the bend. Bypassing the boulder, she stood with her back to the turned path, so that the bather would be aware of her presence, but invisible to her.

Soundless moments later, she heard, "What are you doing?"

"I had hoped to speak with you," she answered, recognizing Elladan's voice.

"Then come over, lest we go hoarse from shouting."

As the noises of splashing resumed, she reconsidered her plan of immediate discussion, but obligingly took a few steps closer, backwards, before speaking again. "Forgive my intrusion, I feared to miss you in the evening. Might we set time aside to speak later, at least before you next take leave?"

"Why not now?"

She sighed silently. Despite years residing in an elvish household, publicly bathing in appropriate nudity remained a strange custom to her. Likewise, some Elves had remarked upon her reservations as seeming no less peculiar to them, with a few taking it upon themselves to tease. Presently, she suspected that Elladan was just being contrary. Would he still, if he understood my purpose? She ventured not.

"Asfaloth has returned."

The water went quiet again. Bracing her modesty, Gilraen turned, shading her eyes from the sun with one hand. The Elf-man's gaze drifted from the surrounding greenery to the sky, stopping squarely upon her. "Surely you did not come here thinking to make amends."

"Well, yes." She found herself shifting, as his eyes did not; it even seemed that the temperature rose. Suddenly he shrugged, and emerged with barely enough warning for Gilraen to avert her already heated face. His voice came from farther away.

"This surprises me. I had not realized that we were at odds."

Though tempted, she did not admit her difficulty to be certain either, judging by his moods alone. "Two years ago, you consoled my son when Asfaloth... died. Do you recall?" When no reply came, she turned again. Elladan laid spread out to dry on a smooth rock in the sun -- seeing as much, she promptly looked back away, assuming that he had nodded in answer rather than fallen asleep. "I was short with you, believing you had misled him. But you were right, in all that you said. I did not understand, still I do not."

Another silence lengthened, until Gilraen glanced over to see Elladan raised on his elbows, unsmiling as he regarded her. Guessing his unspoken complaint, she neared. He reclined then, saying, "In my lifetime, I have ridden and buried countless horses, though never one quite like Asfaloth. As told by Glorfindel, he is an elvish horse of ancient lineage, born first in the Undying Lands and come to Arda before the sun. Throughout the Ages, he has died both on the field of battle, and as you saw, at the end of his natural life -- in any case, he ever returns at his leisure. More than that, I cannot explain."

"I wish you could." She thought for a moment, musing aloud, "It must have something to do with his living here, in an elvish realm. Elsewhere, horses are not reborn--"

"How can you be certain?" Elladan interjected. "Has no foal of your acquaintance been faster to learn, more eager to serve, less liable to err?"

"Of course, but--"

"Have you never asked them of themselves?"

Gilraen would have dismissed the question as a jest, had it come from a man. "I do not have that ability, to converse with animals."

"Like I said, Glorfindel and Asfaloth were companions since before time passed as we count it now, so one should expect their bond, but it is a rare beast who retains naught that--" she heard a scattering of pebbles. He had sat up facing her, both feet on the ground. "Say you what?"

"I cannot talk to animals."

"My father said you were foresighted, in the manner of Elf-kind. I had assumed--" Sounding initially puzzled, he ended plainly, "Well, no matter."

From the edge of her vision, she saw Elladan standing up; after catching a welcome glimpse of cloth, she chanced to look fully. He pulled a tunic over his head -- first shaking the tunic, then his head, both a bit bemusedly. She wondered at his thoughts, if her limitations were bothersome or peculiarities, if their differences made him feel isolated or superior. But she discarded such as merely a reversed reflection of her own feelings towards Elf-kind. "So, Asfaloth, he is reborn, and makes his way home as he pleases."

"So he tells us." He went rigid before sighing with a groan she barely heard. She could only guess that he had meant not to speak again of what beasts have to say for themselves. "Does Estel know?"

"Maybe, by now." When it appeared that he made ready to leave, she extended her hand, as she had seen others do under these circumstances. "I had thought of myself as so clever to evade the subject, should it ever arise. Yet the last time Estel spoke of Asfaloth, asking when I supposed he would return, I answered that I supposed he would not. I mean to apologize to my son, for my pessimism. But first, I wish to apologize to you, for my mistake."

He seemed to deliberate; also to soften. "Just be mindful not to let this incident lead you to gullibility. Some of these Elves are not above pranks, and those so inclined prey upon trustfulness." She wondered why a smile came to him as he grasped her by the arm. "All is well." His smile broadened, until he laughed.

"What?"

"This," he shook her arm, "transpired traditionally amongst brothers in arms, though these days any ner will take the liberty. However, the nissi always have and still embrace."

"I see. What of me then?"

"Evidently something in between, which is why I laughed -- see, you even offered the wrong hand."

"Hm, what a fine apology to waste. And I was so sure." Her lips pursed, she frowned upon their clasped arms. "But it is a gesture of contrition, yes?"

"It is. And an apology once accepted in any form cannot be withdrawn -- though you may have your hand back."

Side by side, they began to follow the trail. "So many customs to heed; and this one presents a predicament for your line. Which hand do the Half-elven offer?"

"Ah, we exempt ourselves by winking instead; the nuances of which make apologizing to your kind somewhat of a trial -- twixt the men, at least."

She laughed, more at his oddness than the jest. Then realizing that Elladan had done the same after her blunder, she laughed anew.