Gil-Galad

Gil-Galad's POV

Mithlond, SA 3429

One of the aides bustled into the room and lit the fire. Perplexed, I looked out of the window and saw that a grey and foggy dusk had fallen outside. With a sigh half of frustration half of relief I shifted the papers and treaties of today into a heap. I would not yet fall back into the habit of eating nothing until the last parchment was written and sealed. You did not do that on the battle-field, ever. I was too spoiled again, maybe, or I just had more sense. I wasn't sure which.

I hated days that consisted mostly of checking reports and lists and reading through and listening to cases of quarrel. Very few I could defer to my advisors' desks and time. Add to that a regular meal and the day usually was too short. I wished repeatedly that Elrond was still here, but he had his hands full with the continuing building and defence of Imladris. Today, I also had to welcome a guest. Neither his arrival nor his nature was yet known to anyone here save my chief advisor Fiontur. I was wondering how, if things worked out as I hoped and planned, I would manage to introduce him. As scout captain, maybe, but I could hardly appoint him an existing group. He would be bringing his own. Ambassador or counsellor maybe, but that portended conflict among my existing advisors and other officials. Either way, I faced a hard time of persuasion, cunning talking, or flat ordering, and I found that extremely annoying. Or maybe frightening. I wasn't sure which it was here, either. Conflict within the court with war at the doorstep was not a pleasant thought.

Only my guest had not yet turned up, and I couldn't help feeling a bit miffed. I reasonably told myself that, considering the weather of the last days, he was likely to be delayed. When I was on the way to find something to eat the call went up that he had finally arrived. Hastening into the yard I forgot my livery in the office and came out into pouring rain. Where had that come from? I peered through the rain, and though I had not expected anything specific, I was baffled at this one. He looked more like an ill-treated messenger of the far-scouts than the leader I needed in this. The tiny, dangerously haughty voice whispered in my brain and I silenced it angrily. I kept a pleasant expression on my face, which I thought was quite a feat with the rain plastering the hair to my skull and soaking my robes within minutes.

He wore a drenched coat of mixed furs and his face was hidden by his hood. His grey dappled horse looked no less miserable in the downpour, splattered up to her belly with mud. He pulled a bulky sack wrapped in oilskin from her back and dropped it to the ground unceremoniously, turning as he did so. When he saw me, he hesitated, then bowed slightly when I approached him.

"Welcome to Mithlond and the king's fort" I said formally, returning the bow. Following a sudden impulse, blessing the lack of my formal livery, I did not name myself but said "I am here to attend to you. Allow me to show you the stables for your horse and the other whereabouts here"

"I will only say thank you" my prospective treating-partner said, shaking his hood back and wiping rainwater from his brow with the sleeve of his coat "My formality is somewhat rusted, as is my knowledge of the current rules of court. I am called Caltor. I am the rhevain…envoy, I suppose you could say"

He did not recognize me. Perfect. I nodded "The king expects you. Since midday, in fact. Were you delayed?"

"With all the rain the fords are near impassable, even those of the rhevain. And the guards would not let me enter with my weapons. We…argued for a while"

He had a funny accent, if accent I could call it. Only now I saw he indeed had no weapons and berated myself both for missing it and for not having forewarned my guards.

"I apologize" I said neutrally "I will retrieve your weapons while you can change into something dry. Come now. The stables are this way. The marshal will see to your horse"

"I will see to her myself" Caltor replied matter-of-factly. He fell into step behind me, and so did the horse though he not once touched the reins. I instinctively turned towards the place where my own horse was housed and just barely managed to imperceptibly swerve our course to the guest stables.

"There is a free booth here, or there at the end" I said, shaking water off my face and pointing past rows of stacked bales "Hay and straw explain themselves, and there are chests with grain over there. Take what you need. I will fetch the stable-master"

"Don't" Caltor said, checking the booth at the end of the row "It'll take only a moment, there is fresh straw in there already" Have you hot water and mash?"

I glanced around hastily, unfamiliar with the small changes that had been worked here in the last moons. I was seldom here, somehow, and the brisk stable-master did not relish my meddling in his stables. I felt a little foolish at my disguise-action as I watched him cinch saddle-straps loose and hoist the gear off his mare's back. I pointed out the stowing racks, trying to watch the horse unobtrusively. Despite her dappled coat she was not a mortal horse but one of the Eldarin ones. How did a wild elf come to such a horse? As far as I knew they would certainly not suffer being stolen from their original masters. Caltor held the door open and she passed me nonchalantly on her way into the booth.

"Meadow, you have one?" he glanced at me and smiled crookedly "I have forgotten the order. I mean, do you have a meadow? She won't stay happily in a stall all day once this downpour dries up. And tell the stable-keeper not to lock her in, yes? She's often mistaken, and saddle-gear doesn't make it better"

"The meadow is just around the right-hand corner" I said, glad to remember at least that with certainty "She won't get locked in, I'll see to that"

We left the stables and made our hasty way back into the main building.

"Is Sindarin not your native language?" I asked as he followed me up the marble stairs inside. Caltor laughed "Of course not. Quenya is"

I whirled around "You are-"

"Elda, yes" He stood there in his mud-stained fur-clothing with his hair drenched and curling and grinned at me "I am often mistaken, too"

"Forgive me" I said "I had no exact word of who was coming and when. I am being foolish today. I took you for a dark elf at first"

"No offence taken" he laughed "I luckily do not carry a sign saying I came from the west"

"Still that does not account for your funny accent" After a day of four-sided words and six-sided sentences this unusual conversation seemed to go to my head.

"Doesn't. The rhevain's speak…speech is strange. You see, they mix their own words, Quenya, Sindarin and Avarin, and stick it all together with a grammar you can't learn, you must un-learn what you have been taught as a kid. That is why right now Sindarin is weird for me. I have not spoken it since…long"

"Oh" We reached the guest quarters. I showed him to his rooms and postponed my questions "Fuilaica will come and show you to the great study when you have changed. I will have food brought there" It would have been a formal politeness to accompany a guest and potential ally for dinner, but tonight nothing better could have happened to me. I was so curious for this strange Elda I could hardly wait for him to change into dry clothes and come down.

Caltor did come down pretty quick, in dry clothes but not yet dried, following Fuilaica curiously but with wariness.

"You should have taken your time" I said, pouring wine.

"Nar. I get used to being wet, but not to being hungry" He smiled, glancing after Fuilaica who exited quietly and mercifully without the conventional 'my king' I couldn't seem to get him to drop. Caltor had replaced the bulky fur-cloak with dark brown shirt and breeches of his own. I saw now that he was, though about my own height, thinner than me.

"I have brought your weapons" I gestured at sword and bow leaning beside the fireplace "That's a kingly sword"

Caltor shook his head "It is old and trusty. Thank you for fetching them"

"I do not recognize the handiwork. It is Noldorin, but…"

"It was made in the West"

He chose a place near the fire and stretched his hands towards the flames with relief, jumping the introductory part of protocol. I could not say what he intended with the way he acted, if anything at all. I sat down opposite him "Let us eat first. Hungry guests make poor treating-partners"

He glanced at me, but then shrugged and with a small grin applied himself to the food. We ate for a while in silence. I cleared my throat and decided to go right ahead "I know nothing of you absolutely. What can you tell me?"

He shrugged once more "Of the rhevain, little yet. For myself I carry few secrets that might be vital to your king. I can tell anything you want, I suppose"

I nodded carefully, deciding to be blunt. That might not become one of my assumed station as king's messenger, but I would see how he would react "Why are you with the wild ones? What drove you to them? What did you do?"

He had expected the question obviously, grinned a little "Nothing drove me there but my own heart. I know you do not join them, and you are never rhevain without a good cause. I am endured by some, accepted by others, and some are my friends. My station among them is singular, as far as I am aware. I come and go freely…Long ago, I met one of their leaders who did mercenary work for an army-leader. He used to be a Sinda of Doriath. We became friends, I stayed with him, then with his group, finally with the clan. I travel with different groups of Hawk clan, though"

"I have heard they are a…motley assembly. I never met one of them"

"Oh, they are. Three leaders who would bring their groups to the war I know well. One is Avar, one Sinda, and one Noldo"

"Noldo?" I was surprised "There are Eldar among them?"

He smiled wryly "No. Those among them of Eldarin descent were all born in Middle-earth. By now, most of them are…young"

I frowned "Why is that?"

Caltor shrugged "Hope dwindles, don't you think? The orcs multiply, the elves hide, and men either fear us or ally themselves to evil right away. The situation makes for sharp tempers, and sharper retaliation. Those that become rhevain face at a small scale what your king faces on a much larger one – a diminishing people with difficulty to unite quickly against an invincible seeming threat. Even the last great city in the north-east, Ost-in-Edhil, was laid in waste within a few days"

"Its defence was valiant" I objected, managing not to show the pain the defeat and its countless deaths had dealt me.

"It was, and it was futile"

I could not say if he meant it as the insult it sounded like, but he continued calmly "It is not like all younger ones are prone to become rhevain, far from it. I think it is just that few who saw the First Age still live. Or are still in Middle-earth. And if they are, they seldom have the heart left to work for great changes against the Dark One"

"Then what do the rhevain know of it? Of what we face here? Of the true nature of the foe at our borders?"

Now he hesitated "We know…about the same as you, I think. The rhevain of these lands are well-informed of what passed in Eregion. They are well informed, too, of what passes here. And what is not spoken of"

I nodded "You see to that?"

"I try"

"But if your station among the wild ones is singular, what security could you offer? Will they follow the king's command if he accepts, or yours?"

Caltor laughed "Neither one. I am here to name service, numbers and the price. They will follow a single command, but one of their own choosing, I think. I would be the errand runner, coordinator and maybe second captain, if they had such ranks. So far I know only that maybe the help of the rhevain is wanted by the king. And if, I will try to win them to his cause and coordinate whatever interaction might be needed. They do not wish to work with the city-elves closer than need be. It breeds only conflicts"

"They all were part of a larger people before they became outlaws" I pointed out

"Ah, but ways and customs have changed, sometimes beyond recognition, sometimes not at all. Now, your far-scouts are admirable, but they lack the malice to eliminate all that they find. If they are called, the rhevain will take care of that, either with your scouts together if they are willing to work closely with us, or on their own"

I stared at the oval metal-plaque he wore on a short leather-thong. It showed a mantling hawk.

"You said you were not one of them, yet you speak as if you were"

Caltor snorted softly "Orome knows I would rather be, sometimes" He tapped on the pendant, noticing my gaze "There are five clans of rhevain, Bear, Snake, Fox, Musk-ox and Hawk. Hawk clan is the smallest still. They used to have their heartlands in Dor Dinen, long ago. The names roughly correspond to the regions they frequent most often, though that shifts almost regularly by now. The wars of the last years scattered them, and it is hard for individuals to find their groups again. Mostly, they form new groups and ooze over into the next nearest clan. Even if they know where their original group got to, too often they find a greater or smaller army of the Dark One in their way. It will be hard to unite them all, probably even impossible. I think the best I can hope for is to get the help of one or two of their clans. Or rather, of the divisions of any clan that are near and willing"

"And what will their help cost?"

"Steel" He looked at me, now for the first time. His eyes were dark blue, with a strong greenish tint. Like his hair, a strange colour. Nearly all of my friends were born in Middle-earth, and they sometimes admitted how uncomfortable the Eldar made them feel. Their eyes are too bright, they would say, they see too much. The Eldar didn't see too much, I tended to think. But often they thought they did not see enough. They considered the Moriquendi primitive and rough, who in return held the Eldar and especially the exiles as arrogant and aloof. Both sides feared betrayal, personal or communal. Of course, there were those who would call me a dark elf. Right now, I who thought I knew about the Eldar what I could know and had no reason to back down from anyone, found myself unable to hold this stranger's gaze. I refilled our glasses and hoped my looking away would not be passed as what it was, a weakness. I soon had to drop my masquerade and assume my place as High King.

"Steel" I repeated "What for? Do they not have their own weapons?"

"The weapons they have are traded for or stolen. They do not work metal" Caltor smiled, mockingly this time, as I involuntarily winced when he said "stolen".

"I am aware they are not your choice allies, but the war you are fighting is military, not moral"

"I am very much aware of that" I said dryly, thinking of the heavy weight of the ring in my quarters, and the decision that would soon have to be made. That was a thing where morality and military concerns flowed into each other most inconveniently.

"They will not demand regular pay or anything in that way" Caltor said "Steel is a word with many meanings among them. Most do not even have armour, they carry bows and pilfered weapons. Very few have good swords or axes. If your king can outfit them for battle, with armour and swords and steel arrowheads I think that meets more than half their demands"

I managed not to blink "Aren't they mercenaries? We were resigned to pay dearly for whatever they might do for us"

"They are elves still. They will ally to your king's people. The only condition is that they receive proper weapons for that"

I was silent for a while. Well, I had not expected that. That made things appear much more manageable suddenly "And what side are you on, Caltor rhevaindil?"

Caltor laughed "I have loyalties with both. I do not intend to play the game of politics or change what city-elves and rhevain are to each other. I think right now we speak from much more different places than you realize. Forget that I am not of the rhevain by deeds. I was careless revealing that. I care for nothing in this war except that we do not lose. I have no, absolutely no intention to get caught up in anything nearer to politics than a day's ride. I am here because I was forwarded a message that was not even intended for me…You will know the king sent for Glossegil, one of the envoys of the silvan elves. Glossegil was ambushed by orcs on his way here, and put up a good fight. That was in rhevain territory, if you want to call it territory. They came to help, he said where he was headed, and they escorted him. Secretly, that is"

"Glossegil apparently came alone, without escort" I agreed carefully.

"They took care not to be seen by the sentinels. Glossegil told Gil-Galad, though, who sent messengers after his one-time escort. I think he wanted to talk to them. The rhevain saw them, but did not want to be found. On their return they asked me to go and see what the messengers wanted. I met the messengers as they were still searching for the vanished party. They told me Gil-Galad wanted to see if they were willing to help. Is he desperate, your king, to ask even the outlaws?"

I smiled at that wonderful pass "I have asked even the humans. Yes, I do grow desperate"

He looked at me for a very long while "You played me the fool?" he asked finally.

"No" I shook my head "Not the fool. There were two ways – you would speak openly to the king's messenger, or you would hedge. You did the first, and in what you said and the way you said it I could see you spoke true. We do not trust the rhevain, nor their bargains. I am cautious. Do not feel yourself slighted by my test"

Neither his face nor his voice betrayed anger "Maybe not. But what did you mistrust – my reason, my judgement or my intentions? All of those, and they all come together in what I am"

I was silent for a while. It was a rebuke that assured me he was not cowed by suddenly speaking no longer to a messenger but to the High King himself. He had nothing to lose here, and that was clear. I wanted the help he could maybe offer, but he was not dependant on my agreement for anything. His speech was blunt, and without my noticing, he had won part of my trust and my estimation.

"Maybe as High King I should have known better. It was not a good way to start negotiations" I found myself admitting.

He smiled wearily "Maybe as High King you can risk such frankness as now"

"No" I said "I cannot, really. But neither can I dance the ritual of covert speech as perfectly as my advisors can. So. Are you still willing to ride for my army? You have told me a great deal already I would have asked tomorrow otherwise. We would speak of the finer things then. I expect another commander to have arrived by midday"

"I will be of little use to speak before your court. If the negotiations are with you personally, it will be well. Then I think I will use the night for sleeping in a real bed again. It was a drag of a ride today" he stretched and rose. I got up as he did so "Where do you come from? The nearest river is twenty miles distant, and I know my messengers did not cross it"

He looked into the fire for a moment. The light of the flames danced over him, strangely accentuating the red in his hair.

"From the east" he answered then "I intercepted your messengers when they lost Glossegil's track in the swamps, but it took me fourteen days to come here because I had to pass near the Eryn Vorn first. So there is the reason for the delay by so many rivers. Glanduin near the swamps, Gwathlo at Tharbad, Baranduin at Sarn Ford. And the one you call Deepflow by swimming my horse. I do have good reason to indulge Faire while I am here"

Eryn Vorn was, as far as I knew, except for a few Men completely unsettled, thickly forested land, surrounded by rocky forests. In winter the naked trees were frosted over by the cold, damp sea-winds, and in summer the forest was steeped in wetness from countless small waterfalls.

"Is that…rhevain territory then, Eryn Vorn?" I asked, opening the door for him without thinking. He looked perplexed, but then laughed and preceded me.

"Yes" he answered my question "Partly. Hawk-clan is there often, and Fox. Snake only comes in summer, and not regularly. I brought messages and trade-goods there from Hollin"

We were in the dark corridor now. I stopped by a window, where grey light from the misty night fell in "But Hollin is deserted"

Caltor stopped beside me, looking out "It is years since Ost-in-Edhil was destroyed, yes. There are ruins, though. And ruins like those hold more than ghosts and memories, High King"

"Orcs and wargs and bones, for sure"

He shook his head "Precious things for the rhevain"

It took me a moment to piece together what he hinted, did not say "They…you…you raid..." I paused, gathered my thoughts about me "You help them find…whatever things might be lost there so they can trade?"

"Yes" There was no mockery, no challenge in his eyes "While the city stood, I was sometimes there. Sometimes, I lived there myself, a few days, a few moons. I rode with the traders going to and from Khazad Dum as guard, sometimes alone as messenger. I acted as mediator between the rhevain and the city-folk, carried their goods if one dared not go see the other. The Mirdain found that the wild elves had knowledge that is…very different from theirs. Lots of Avarin wisdom. But they could hardly deal openly with the outlaws, so they used me as go-between. I know my way around the ruins"

I held on to composure. I would not dare judge this. I could not. I held on to the window-sill, hard, for a moment. He knew a lot, this one. But whatever the Mirdain had learned from the wild ones it could not have been of so much consequence as what they learned from Sauron. And the crowns of that learning rested in a wooden box in my quarters right now. It all came down to that, over and again.

"I say this now because I know you, too, have fought hard for the city's survival" Caltor said softly "I thought first it was scavenging on the dead, doing this. Just as you think now. Now, I believe it is not important anymore. The rhevain have some use from things that would otherwise lie rotting in the rubble"

I shivered. It was the cold, I told myself. There was suddenly a great distance between us, in this dark corridor. Yes, I understood what he said. But to accept it as such was yet impossible. Too much pain hung on that, the memory of that city, the valour of its defence. And the futility of its fall and the lives lost in that.

"Forgive me" I said when I could trust my voice "It is not the way I can see that. But I see the logic. So where are the rhevain you think will fight with us?"

Caltor made a small gesture, vaguely "Some are in Hollin now. Some in Eryn Vorn. Some in the Trollshaws. More are wandering. I do not think the far eastern clans will come, at least not completely. Hawk, Fox and Bear, though, I think they will come, all of them. Snake and Musk-ox will be too far, but they might come later"

As we climbed the better lit stairs to his room I finally said "Your horse's name…"

"Faire, yes"

"I know it is a Quenya word, but I do not speak the language as perfectly as maybe I should as High King. What does it mean?"

He smiled another wry smile "It is an ancient word. The original significance was phantom or spirit, but also death" He hesitated, and I filed that. There was a significance there that I missed and which he did not explain. Instead he added"The meaning now is ghost. You have seen her in the bright stables – but give her a misty night, and an orc will not know what hit him"

I halted in front of the door "You are good fighting on horse-back then?"

Caltor leaned against the door-frame easily "Yes and no. She and I are a team, and I am good with her, but it is all our combined skills. I would not be near as good riding any other horse. I prefer fighting on the ground, or cowardly safe with the bow. But Faire, she is orc-death"

It was a funny way to talk about bow-shooting as well as of one's horse, even if it was a fine one such as the mare I had seen. I took my leave of him, formally again, and slowly went back to my own rooms. Tomorrow promised to be as exhausting as interesting. I resolved to get the current trade- and supply-lists from Fuilaica first thing tomorrow. The smiths and leatherworkers would be busy for the next moons.

The next day around noon I sent Fuilaica for Caltor. It was a while before he came, apologizing for the delay. He had slept long, and then seen to his horse. We sat at the table in my own study for a while, looking at maps. He cautiously pointed out the areas where he knew rhevain were, but I forbore marking them as yet. I did not wish him to think I might plan to make use of knowledge the wild ones had effectively held secret up to now.

The borders of elven lands had shrunk perceptibly to my eyes. The areas where nothing lived in the way of elves, dwarves or men had dwindled as well. Places where the old realms had been were now water, or wilderness. Wilderness and ruins, as was Eregion.

"It's all changed and broken" I murmured, staring at that part of the map "Imladris and the Havens. Only the Silvans hold lands without building fortresses, but between, its all orcs and wolves"

"Little has changed in the danger of these lands. Except that they have become smaller, and the orcs more concentrated in what remained" Caltor glanced at me "And men come into it uncomfortably. You never know where you are with them. Before the world was changed, there was more space, and I do not think it was only geographically so"

I smiled wryly "That is easy to say"

"I have walked in those lands that now lie under the wave" Caltor said mildly.

"Yes" I looked up from the map "And you stayed after the War of Wrath? Very few who survived are still in Middle-earth. Most went across the sea long ago"

"I did not heed Eonwe's summons, obviously. As you did not either. I was with the rhevain almost continually since that time. And beyond the sea, nothing waits for me but memory. Here, I have friends, and a place"

"And lots of war" I indicated a long scar on his forearm.

"A small price to pay, maybe" There was more to this than he let on, not meeting my eyes.

"Maybe" I hesitated, suddenly realizing what he had said. I had not noticed his slip yesterday, but now I did. I stared at him until he smiled somewhere between mockingly and a sneer "Does that affect your plans for our involvement?"

"No" I said slowly, registering how he got his hackles up "But so there is at least one Elda among the rhevain. What grievance have you against the west?"

"Ha!...That is a long story, and the shortest way is to say family-trouble. We had strong objections to each other's opinions"

"And that is enough to drive one from the Blessed Realm on his own?" I asked wryly. He shook his head slowly as if weighing his answer "I did not go alone. My family did not agree with the warrior lady who was my partner, nor with our way of…continuing our liaison. I am aware we did not hurt their feelings alone, but also great part of the ancient law. The…rebellion came as a way out that we had not foreseen"

Thanks to endless hours of dry courtly teaching I could read between those lines. I changed the topic, not discreetly but effectively.

"How am I to communicate with the rhevain if not all of them speak Sindarin? There will be no time for translators to run between my commanders and theirs"

"I speak Sindarin – and rhevain. I will pass on orders, and they won't argue. I said my position was singular"

"Indeed"

"My king" Fuilaica opened the door and let Elrond in who was still dressed in his travelling clothes. I had not seen him for a long while, and jumped up to embrace him "Elrond. I feared you would be delayed as well"

"I nearly was" he said when he stepped back "It was good we planned a week more for the distance"

"I am glad you are here. Would you eat and rest first? We can defer this to the afternoon, I think"

"No, I am fine. I see your envoy has already arrived. The sooner we have worked out the terms the sooner he can carry word back"

I nodded "This is Caltor of Hawk clan. He will be our go-between"

Elrond turned to Caltor to greet him properly, and stood staring for a moment "Caltor indeed"

Caltor blinked, and then smiled wryly "Well met again, Elrond of Imladris"

I saw Elrond claw at his composure. I could not say what the look on his face meant "So you say" he said after a moment "Gildor"

Caltor frowned in anger "You had to do that, hadn't you?"

"If you choose to hide yourself, fine, but do not expect me to go along with this silliness" Elrond said angrily.

I blinked "Gildor?"

He shrugged "Caltor is but the rhevain form"

"And where did you and Elrond meet?"

The two stared at each other. "Eregion" Elrond replied after a moment "He and his rhevain…escorted our…drawing back. And guarded the borders of Imladris at the crucial time. I did not know you were…here"

"Well, I did not intend it" Gildor said coolly "You know the rings are nothing I wish to come closer to. But this is what I understand – scouts, guards. Orc-killing. That is why I am here"

"You could understand more if you cared" Elrond said darkly.

"We care for different things, Elrond" Gildor snapped "You know we found that out much longer ago than just now"

"We did. But you have more cheek I would ever have thought, masquerading like this"

Gildor got to his feet to face Elrond "I am Inglor's son no longer. And you won't find my name in his line. My masquerade as you call it is truer to my place than you realize"

"Peace" I interrupted them, things falling into place, especially Elrond's uncharacteristic anger. Inglor had a son? The 'differences of opinion' Gildor had referred to must have been severe enough to create a breach in the family, deep enough that he had never been spoken about even in my house. Inglor, son of Ingwe of the Vanyar. The true High Elves. None of them, not a single one of Ingwe's people had come to Middle-earth with the rebellious elves. None, it appeared, except Inglor's son, and he had gone as one of Finrod's Noldorin following. Even if Gildor and Silmarusse had not brought disgrace on themselves with their small rebellion, Gildor's going alone would have been cause for a rift in the family. But so he was Vanya. Half-Vanya, maybe, because Inglor had married Fiondis of the Havens, but I saw now why Elrond appeared so overly put out by the fact that Gildor hid his lineage. I saw the logic for Gildor, too. It allowed him to avoid false or high expectations he would maybe inevitably maybe consciously shatter. This came as a shock, but none I would deal with now "Well, Gildor of Valinor" I asked dryly "And you complained of me playing you the fool last night?"

He looked at me mutely for a moment, knowing I put the rest together for myself.

"I do not care for your name or reasons as long as your warriors will stand by me" I pointed out.

"That they will" Caltor said grimly "They may be mercenaries, but they are honest ones, and in this case allies"

I could feel Elrond simmering inwardly "Meaning, as long as the amount of steel is right" he hissed "You are as good as one of them talking like this"

Gildor snorted "If you want to act the true city-elf, I am as good as one of them just by what Silmarusse and I did, Elrond. Really, I do ask myself why I did not act on this much sooner. But you can believe me that they would hardly count you an outlaw just from making love to your partner unwedded. Most of them have much better reason to fear the jurisdiction of their former people than I"

"You had better guard your tongue talking like this in front of the king. You cannot escape being Elda, even if you busily try to quench what light you have. You were born there, Calathaura"

Gildor narrowed his eyes dangerously "Yes I were. And that's it. Don't look for Valinor's light in me, Elrond. I chose the darkness of middle-earth long ago"

"If anyone knows about elves who chose the darkness it is me" Elrond snarled.

"Flames of Mordor, will you stop this?" I interrupted angrily, restraining myself from thumping a fist on the table "The king has ears and tongue of his own. I really hope your differences will not extent to the field. Now you both sit down and defer your grudges to outside the council-room or better, you drop them completely"

"It is not I who has a problem right now" Gildor snapped "I came here as envoy for the sole reason that I am the only one the rhevain have who knows comparatively recent things about the realms, and who may ensure them a firm place in the host. Imagine one of them who has not spoken Sindarin for centuries bargaining with you, Gil-Galad, or with one of your advisors. I never intended for my ancestry to come up. Elrond knows very well that neither courts nor households are what I fit it. Or want to fit in" he added with a dark glance at Elrond "I served one king. It is enough"

Elrond's eyes blazed. I refrained from mind-speaking him to say he should please, please calm down. Gildor's words might have been a severe insult, but I sensed he did not mean it that way. Rather, it was to say 'I would not want to be king if you laid the office at my feet'. It was just a way Elrond would never have spoken. Or maybe could not understand. The two stared at each other like rams considering the next clash.

"If you guarded the Imladris-borders for a while, I assume you are familiar with working under Elrond's command" I said "Did you work together, or were you at each other's throats?"

Silence. "We worked well together, I suppose" Elrond said grudgingly after a while "At least he did not make me believe he was Caltor at that time"

"What name I carry hardly affects my scouting skills" Gildor shot back.

I groaned "Please. May we turn to these maps? I am glad the chances are low either of you will have to work under the other's command in this"

"So am I" they said nearly in unison, then looked at each other and grinned sheepishly. I stifled a sigh. Well, it seemed this merciless throwing of verbal daggers had developed into some kind of friendship nevertheless.

"How long were you in Imladris?" I asked, sorting the maps we had used before Elrond arrived.

Gildor coughed slightly "I have a room there"

I looked up in surprise, and he smiled crookedly "At least I had yet three years ago"

"You still have" Elrond gave a small sigh "I won't kick out the best map-maker I can draw on even if he drives me to shouting"

"Well" I said finally "I see there are quite some things I do not know yet"

It took the three of us, Fiontur and Maciliante two days to set out a rough plan of what the rhevain would do, which positions I wanted to fill with them and which they would accept. It took four days to broach the whole thing to my advisors and the field captains. It was easier than I had expected, though, to find scouts and far-scouts willing to ride with rhevain groups. Then Gildor went off to speak to the wild elves he knew, planning to return with as much of their leaders he could find. Though he and Elrond did not go on arguing as they had, considerable tension remained in those meetings.

"What ails you so much?" I asked Elrond that night when we were alone in my quarters.

He snarled softly "He acts as if he did not belong to us! Instead of being here now, he sleeps somewhere in the wild, trying to drag a few outlaws together. But he was born Inglor's son. He is one of us"

"That is how you see it. There is an awful lot of time between you and him"

"I am not a boy any more, Gil-Galad"

"Oh, I certainly know that, herald" I smiled a little "What can we know what it was like in the West? To me, right now, Gildor offers a chance to strengthen our forces. If he finds twenty or two-hundred, we need every one of them. You know that. And they may have transgressed our laws, sharply that is – but treason was not a reason why anyone of them became rhevain"

Elrond frowned "You of all of us should know that does not make our people completely reliable"

"That, I think, Gildor will know very well. And you of all of us should know that even kinslaying does not turn one into an epitome of evil or a complete traitor"

He blinked, but said nothing in the vein of his foster-father's defence.

"Your grudge against Gildor seems to be more personal than in any way military" I said after a while "Is it him you mistrust or the rhevain?"

"I do not mistrust him. Or his intentions, or the rhevain. When he is in Imladris, hardly a handful know what he does when he is not there. They know his name, but he threatened death to anyone who he knew was aware that he is Inglor's son and was likely to share that knowledge. He is so…I do not see why he throws away what is rightly his. What he could take. Why is he not part of your people? Why does he make people believe he is just one more exile, or worse, just one of the rhevain, when he could be right up beside Maciliante?"

"Elrond, forgive me if I sound patronizing. Ambition is not defined alike by everyone"

Elrond just snorted.

"When did you find out who he was? Or did he tell you?" I asked.

"He did not" Elrond said darkly "When we hid in the valley first, I asked him to ride with Glorfindel because Gildor is a wonderful map-maker. And the two look at each other as if struck by lightning"

"He…knew him from Gondolin then?" I made a haphazard guess, but Elrond nodded.

"So…And you think such…instances are not enough to make him wish he could escape the past? The years of the first age were long, and longer I think for one who knows the west with his own eyes"

"But does he have to turn to…to the rhevain for all the world? Why does he not stay in Imladris where more people than just me could use his talents? He knows ancient Quenya. He speaks Silvan, rhevain, even some Avarin. Speaks it, mark you. He can sing songs in their language. But I never got him to it, not even to sing in his own tongue! The language-guild of Eregion was mad to get their hands on him when they could"

"Hm" I hesitated "I do not know him well. But just from what I have seen…I know a few Eldar who stayed after the First Age. But unlike many of them, he…appears to move on. In a way I suppose must seem…quite strange to the rest of us"

"I daresay" Elrond sighed "Yes. It is just…"

I grinned "You cannot order him? He would be part of my people, or yours, had he not cut his ties to them. You have no hold over him as I have no hold over the Silvans. That is what bothers you?"

"No"

"No?"

"Well, maybe-. But still he could do more than endure the miserable life of a scout and command a ragged line of wild elves!"

"And what would be the difference?" I demanded "Someone has to lead them. And, I take it, he appears the only one suitable or even possible. Because he is one of them. As much as anyone can be without…doing something unwise"

"But-"

"Wait a moment. I need men. Warriors. Our people are leaving. The rhevain, I take it, care little for what or who they fight, except that land remains for them to be left in peace. Their demands are for pay, Elrond. Not once was there a hint that they might demand other things"

"As to be re-admitted to…wherever they came from"

"Yes. What counts is what the people we have do, and how they do it. Not who does what"

"I know that as well as you do"

"Then do me a favour and drop your feud with him"
"It was not a feud. It was a…difference of opinion. Personal opinion"

"It is fascinating how delicately you two can talk! Well, I see why I left the diplomatic things for you. You control too much. Or try to. Do not try that on him. I have a feeling he would not…take kindly to it"

"He is a risk" Elrond said softly "Now, sometimes, I think that. Gildor knows things not even your counsellors know. And he drifts around in the wild with that knowledge"

"You are talking of the rings"

"Yes"

"Elrond, I think he…does not care for them. Not for their danger, nor for their power. He kept out of Ost-in-Edhil for that. I know now that he spoke more than vehemently against them to Celebrimbor. To use them or destroy them is a decision he does not want to face, or be drawn into. He uses his current place as an excuse not to get involved. But I think that is definitely wise. I wish I had the freedom to do so"

"You know what happened to Celebrimbor"

I sighed "Whatever Gildor knows, he is no more risk to our people than you and I. He is as likely to be taken as am I, as are you. Maybe even less likely, because he drifts in the wild as you say, and as he said he luckily does not carry a sign saying he came from the west. As do we, though, all shining armour and banners saying 'oh, shoot the High King'"

Elrond smiled wryly and sighed "He lied to you. As he did to me"

I frowned "Lied?"

"He said he was Caltor, didn't he?"

"Well, if that is the rhevain form of his name it wasn't even a lie" I shrugged, but Elrond bristled. I suspected he currently used Gildor as an excuse to relieve some of his own frustration. He definitely disliked being led around. And Gildor was not daunted by rank or authority, both things which Elrond knew to wield masterfully.

"He tried to fool the High King"

I laughed "The High King fooled him in the first place, Elrond. I made him believe I was the king's messenger when he arrived"

"You did what?" Elrond seemed first scandalized, then he finally laughed "You are an idiot"

"So?" I grinned "I was cautious. And now you don't lecture me on proper respect naming the High King idiot"

Chapter Notes:

Gil-Galad: In what appears the final version of his parentage Tolkien makes Gil-Galad the son of Orodreth. The high kingship passed from Fingon to Turgon, and after his death to the House of Finarfin – whose last descendant was Gil-Galad.

Maciliante: Q "spider-sword"

Fuilaica: Q "green night"

Fiontur: Q "hawk-master"

Elrond's foster-father was of course Maglor son of Feanor.

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