This is dedicated to you reviewers, because you make my muse give me ideas!
Glorfindel had made a decision, as he knelt by the tree. His raw emotions flooding him, he knew what he had to do. If he let his emotions get a hold of him again, he knew he would fade, and the logical side of him knew that he could not give into it. He was not afraid of his emotions; he just didn't want to let Lord Elrond down. His duty pinned him to Middle Earth and he suffered because of it.
The years passed him by and the iron mask still clad his emotions from the world. To others, it had seemed his duties and responsibilities had caught up to him for a short period of time, and then he resumed his normal habits. He would wake up, dress, eat breakfast, inform Lord Elrond of any new turns in the newest treaty they were working on or dispute they were mediating, and then set about his daily duties. He would check in with the returning patrol if it was the third week of the month, or greet the twins if it was the fourth week of the month. He would take that information and make any changes to the patrols or his universal map of Orc movement. He then would dress for supper and then attend. He would retreat to the Hall of Fire and perhaps sing a song or dance with a lovely maiden or two. Then he would respectfully take his leave and go to the library to read for an hour and then retire to bed.
He bled, in the secret recesses of his being that he did not let anyone see. Keeping in the truth of himself, he sentenced himself to emotional death. But never in the fifteen years that passed from the day of the tree, as he remembered it, did he say anything. Lord Elrond trusted he had it all under control.
Even Estel, who was very receptive to the emotions of even elves, could not detect his dying soul.
The twins knew very well what was going on, but they were bound by their loyalty to Glorfindel not to say a word.
Glorfindel laughed merrily as the twins bowed, large grins on their faces, after giving Estel their rendition of an elven birthday song. Indeed, the young man was turning seventeen that night. Elves did not celebrate birthdays for they would have far too many and time had no meaning to them, but he supposed Estel was to be the death of them all, he thought fondly. He reached underneath his seat, where he had hidden the gift he had taken weeks of labor to make.
He stood up and walked over to Estel. The dancing had begun and all attention was off the head table. He put a hand on the young man's shoulder and smiled.
"This is for you, Estel." He said softly.
The young human looked up and accepted the long box Glorfindel handed to him. "Thank you." He said as he pulled the top off. His eyes grew wide. "Glorfindel! I… I… wow, I thank you. I am so grateful." He held in his hand a powerfully-crafted elven sword, roses carefully engraved into the blade and tengwar was on the hilt, spelling out his name and how great his courage was and how powerful his arm. The boy stood up and embraced Glorfindel. "Thank you!"
Glorfindel smiled, embracing the boy in return. "It is my pleasure." He nodded, and returned to his seat. He leaned back and observed the dancing as another familiar blonde elf walked up to him.
"My lord Glorfindel." Legolas greeted him in his musical voice.
"My prince Legolas." Glorfindel smiled, standing once more. "I am glad to see you."
"And I, you. How have you been?" Legolas asked, his eyes meeting Glorfindel's.
The blonde Balrog Slayer had a moment in which he wished to bring his fist between Legolas' two pretty, knowing blue eyes, but he restrained himself. No matter how great Legolas' skill, Glorfindel would always remain his better and he did not want to lose his self-control, which he seemed to do very frequently. Had it just been the day before he had yelled at Erestor for running into him in the library?
"I have been excellent." Glorfindel lied, a fake smile plastered on his face.
Legolas observed his face, testing his honesty before genuinely smiling in return. "Good."
Glorfindel grieved in his heart that his lies had finally worked on the proud prince of Mirkwood.