Once more thanks to:

Arian - basically I didn't change anything about the formatting, I simply used Word Pad instead of Works. Glad it's better though, and I'll stick to Pad from now on. hugs

j-mercury - No, Glorfindel and Erestor never met in Gondolin (the reason why will be revealed later). Yes, the book is Erestor and he needed a way of coding it. At the time he wrote the journal almost no elf could speak, let alone read, he common tongue. Well, I won't say anythign about your Bellmaethorion questions, because I'll have much more fun letting you figure that out by yourself. smirk Thanks for staying with this story!

Also thanks to the wonderful unknown Author, who took the time to review.

GTL

Chapter 17

"Glorfindel?" Lindir cautiously stepped into the blond's chambers, "Could I talk to you for a moment?"

"But of course, meldir (friend), just let me put these somewhere..."

Patiently Lindir waited till Glorfindel had stowed a big pile of parchments away in one of the drawers.

"What do you want to talk about? Is it important? Have a seat," Glorfindel was already pulling out a chair.

Lindir shook his head, curling his feet beneath him as he sat down. "The answers to your questions are Bellmaethorion, yes and thanks."

"Bellmaethorion..."

Lindir sighed. "Why do you have that look on your face again? I told Bellmaethorion that he was wrong in believing you hated him, but..." he shrugged.

"Lindir," Gorfindel sighed deeply as he sat down, "I know I have a reputation of liking everyone but that is far from true and my dislike for Bellmaethorion is strong."

"But why, Glorfindel? Why? I know you to be an excellent judge of character and it worries me that my impression of Bellmaethorion differs so greatly from yours. Why do you dislike him so much?"

"I don't know, Lindir. I honestly don't know." Glorfindel sighed.

"But..."

"No buts, Lindir," the blond shook his head, "All I can say is that I feel that Bellmaethorion might be - or is - a threat to Erestor."

"Erestor?" the minstrel's glance was thoughtful, "He has been acting very strangely though," he said, "And he called Bellmaethorion by his name before they were introduced to each other."

"He did?"

"Mhmm." Lindir smiled helplessly, "I gather from your expression that you don't know any more than I do."

Again Glorfindel shook his head. "I am sorry to disappoint you, meldir; I only know that I sense some sort of connection between Erestor and Bellmaethorion and that I don't like it at all. Would you answer me a question in turn?"

"Of course," the minstrel smiled weakly, "What is it you want to know?"

"Why do you feel so drawn to Bellmaethorion?"

Lindir frowned. "I like him. I sense a sort of kinship with him... I feel safe around him... and I sense a need of belonging in him, a need I can understand only too well."

Glorfindel remained quiet, brows creased in thought.

"Very well," Lindir got up, brushing some imagined dust off his robes, "I shall leave you to whatever you were doing then."

"Lindir?"

The minstrel stopped, hand already on the door handle, as he heard his soft-spoken name.

"If you ever again feel like talking, don't hesitate to come by. I'll be there, even if listening should be all I can do."

Smiling briefly Lindir inclined his head before pulling the door shut after him. Glorfindel felt as though it had been shut in his face.

GTL

Thranduil paced through his study, nervously willing the strange feeling in his stomach to fade. What was the matter with him today? And how could he have been stupid enough to invite the peredhel to his quarters for dinner when he had been feeling increasingly insecure around Elrond?

He sighed, raking a hand through his long, blond hair. Because it was increasingly difficult to keep Elrond inside, that was why. And the half-elf was still not well enough to roam the forest freely, much less travel home to Imladris. And wandering through Mirkwood was even when accompanied by guards not exactly safe. Reports became more and more worrying.

"Aya, Legolas," he sighed, leaning over a bowl of water, studying the expression in his own eyes, "Where are you when I need you, ion-nin (my son)? Why couldn't you tell me where you wanted to go? I wouldn't have kept you here." Where could his son have gone to?

"Hîntawaren!"

The door opened almost soundlessly and Thranduil turned, a sad smile frozen on his lips. "Any news from Bellmaethorion or Legolas?"

"No, Sire," Thranduil's chief advisor shook his head, "We haven't heard from him since he reported that he had reached Imladris safely."

"But that was several weeks ago!"

"I know, Sire."

"Have a messenger sent to Imladris. I want to know if Bellmaethorion is still there and if he has gathered new information."

"At once, Sire." The green-eyed elf courtsied. Thranduil stared after him for some minutes before he forced his attention back to the carefully laid-out table. Everything had to be perfect.

GTL

"Glorfindel?" Erestor asked softly, tearing his gaze from the old journal. "Glorfindel?" He frowned. The seneschal was once again sitting in front of the fireplace, staring off into the dancing flames.

"Yes?"

"Have you already scanned the elvish parts of the journal for useful information?"

"I have," the blond sighed, handing some parchments over, "But it seems that our unknown soldier decided to write almost everything of interest in that accursed common tongue."

Erestor's eyebrows rose. "Surely you're not thinking about giving up?"

"No meleth (love), I'm not," Glorfindel sighed, "I simply loathe making such slow progress."

"But we are still making progress."

"Yes." Glorfindel turned to stare into the flames again, once more lost in thought as a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," Erestor called, eyes narrowing as Collmir entered. What was the guard doing here again?

"My lords," Collmir bowed deeply towards Glorfindel and inclined his head towards Erestor, "A Messenger from Gondor has arrived, demanding to speak to Lord Elrond at once. He refuses to be delayed. Shall I lead him in?"

"When did he arrive?" Erstor asked.

"He has just dismounted."

"Lead him to us," Glorfindel smiled at the scowling guard, "Erestor and I will hear whatever he has to say."

"Very well," Collmir bowed again, "Shall I tell the servants to ready some guestquarters?"

"Do so, Collmir. Just in case."

As soon as the blond guard had left Erestor and Glorfindel gathered their parchments, carefully stacking them onto the advisor's desk after Glorfindel had slipped the journal into his robes.

GTL

"My lord?" he asked, bowed and stepped closer without waiting for an answer.

"What is it, Orophin?" Celeborn did not turn around but instead continued to stare out of the window, hiding his tear-streaked cheeks from one of the few Galadhrim he trusted.

"I am sorry to disturb you, my lord," Orophin frowned, "But my brothers and I worry about the Lady Galadriel. Will you not tell us what ails her?" The guard raised his eyebrows as silence greeted his request. "I do not mean to be preposterous," he continued, "But we have always been attached to you and your wife since you took us in and her recent behaviour worries us. We know that something is amiss:"

Celborn smiled sadly, wiping another tear away. "You have always been more observant than your brothers," he turned, forcing himself not to flinch as he noticed the shock on the younger elf's face, "But I cannot tell you what ails my wife." He glanced at the intricate patterns on the floor before finally meeting Orophin's eyes again, "For I do not know it myself."

Orophin gulped, attempting to force a smile to his lips. "Pardon me for mentioning it, Sire, but you do not look well yourself."

"How could I be well while my wife suffers? We are bound, Orophin. I feel some of the pain she's going through."

"And you still can't tell what causes this pain?"

"No, pen-neth (little-one) I cannot. Our bond does not keep her from hiding things from me."

Orophin inclined his head, a sad smile gracing his lips, "Is there anything I can do, my lord?"

"There might be, but ..."

"But, mylord?"

"I do not want to place you in danger."

"I would go willingly," Orophin said softly, his hand gently settling on Celeborn's shoulder, "Whatever I can do to help, I will gladly do."

"I know you will," cold fingers closed around Orophin's, "And yet I feel that I should not be asking this of you."

Silence settled in the royal talan; even Galadriel's soft sobbing from the next room ceased as evening slowly swallowed the day. Shadows fell over Lothlorien in a pale twilight, strengthening the blue-silver mist that never left the elven realm nowadays. Few birds greeted the chilly night with their song, yet for every beak that would never open in song again the remaining birds sang all the more sweetly.

"Just look at this, Orophin," Celeborn whispered, pulling the young guardian to the window, "Each day that the power of the rings has been gone has seen more and more of Lorien's light fade to never return again. I dread the evening for I can never know how much of the realm my wife and I built here will still be there come morning. The time of the elves is fading. Maybe we should have joined those of our cousins from Imladris who already set sail."

"Na, my lord," Orophin was shocked to see how weary and worn his silver-haired foster father looked, "Do not say such things. Only few of the Imladris elves have sailed and almost none from Lorien. As long as our hearts are still bound to this place Lorien will live. This realm was more than just a safe place created by Galadriel's ring. And it still is."

"Thank you, Orophin," Celeborn squeezed the comforting hand on his shoulder, "Would you go to Gondor for me?"

"Why Gondor, my lord?"

"Galadriel said something in her sleep," Celeborn admitted, "And I feel that a lot of the things that will shape our near future are bound to Gondor for some reason or other. Go to Gondor Orophin," he gazed deeply into the younger elf's eyes, "Gather information on any suspicious activity you find and bring Aragorn and Arwen my best wishes."

"Perhaps my lord, it would be prudent to offer Aragorn my services as teacher and instructor for his son?"

"A wonderful idea, Orophin," Celeborn nodded, "I will write a letter at once. Aragorn knows of your skills with a bow. It's the perfect reason for you to stay in Gondor."

"When shall I leave?"

"As soon as possible," Celeborn saud absentmindedly, still staring out of the window, "And Orophin?"

"Yes my lord?"

"Take your brothers with you, you may need their assistance."

"Gladly, my lord."

GTL

"Well met, friend," Erestor was the first to address the messenger as he stepped into the library.

"Lord Elrond?" the messenger asked, breath catching at the immaculately dressed vision in front of him. Long, black hair, held by by two simple braids, framed a delicately pale face with burning dark eyes. A robe of green velvet, so dark it was almost black completed the picture of perfection.

"Nay, I am Erestor, Lord Elrond's chief advisor," he gesured towards Glorfindel, "And this is Glorfindel of Gondolin, Imladris' seneschal and the captain of her guards."

"I am honoured to meet you," the messenger bowed deeply, "I am Aragog of the city watch." He frowned briefly. "Forgive me, but my king sent me to deliver my message to Lord Elrond and no one else." His frown increased at tle look that passed between the councillor and the seneschal. "My lords? Is there a problem?"

"There is indeed," Erestor beat Glorfindel to it, "Lord Elrond is unfortunately away, visiting a distant ally and has entrusted his realm to me and Lord Glorfindel in the meantime."

"A distant ally?"

"He is currently residing at Thranduil's court in Mirkwood."

"Mirkwood?" the messenger repeated, his face falling, "There is not enough time for me to travel on to MIrkwood."

"Would you be willing to hand the message over to us or perhaps Elladan and Elrohir, Lord Elrond's sons and heirs, instead?"

"I am sure that doing so is within my king's order." Aragog handed a sealed parchment over to Erestor, bowing once again, "With your leave I shall stay another day or two before resuming my journey."

"Please do so," Glorfindel smiled, "Guestquarters have already been made readied for you. Collmir!"

"Yes, Lord Glorfindel?" the blond asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"Please show Aragog to his quarters."

GTL