Chapter 18

"Erestor? Love?" Glorfindel asked worriedly, taking a hurried step towards the dark-haired elf as the chief advisor's expression turned deathly ashen. "What is it? What does this message say to strike such fear into your heart?"

"You do not want to know," Erestor answered and turned towards the window, the parchment still clutched thightly in his trembling hands, "This would only confuse and anger you."

"Erestor?" Glorfindel tried again, now close enough to soothingly carress his lover's shoulders, "Please tell me what is amiss?"

"Aragorn started with his usual ramblings about the state of the kingdom, the number of traders that passed his borders and all that but..." Erestor trailed off, his slender shoulders now trembling under Glorfindel's loving touch.

"But what meleth-nîn (my love)?"

Only after quite a while did Erestor continue to talk, his gaze still lost on something outside. "But he hints at some very strange things..." he trailed off again.

"Like what?"

"Basically he wants to know why I visited him in Minas Tirith and demanded his son's life as price for the continued peace between Gondor and Imladris."

"Why you what?" Glorfindel yelled loud enough to make the advisor wince once more, "You haven't left Imladris for almost a year! How can he claim such a thing?"

"He doesn't say how exactly, but he states that he is more than able to recognize me and my speech pattern and that he has no doubt that it was indeed me. He also claims that magic was involved somehow."

"Magic?" Glorfindel laughed mirthlessly, "Well, that settles it then. You're not able to perform magic and you have never been."

"Aragorn also asks Elrond to keep a close watch on me," Eresor continued flatly, "And to tell him of any strange behaviour I might show. The rest is the usual conglumeration of increased Orc and Uruk-Hai sightings, traders and supply treks disappearing, dark creatures roaming the lands and attacking the peasants and so on."

"I see," Glorfindel's voice cut like glass, "And does he mention any proof he believes to have?"

"No," Erestor shook his head, leaning forwards to rest his hands on the window sill, "No proof except for what he saw with his own eyes."

"I see," Glorfindel said again, wrapping his arms around Erestor's waist and resting his chin on the dark-haired elf's shoulder, "Maybe that is why Aragog reacted so strangely when we told him that Elrond does not dwell in Imladris at the moment."

"No," Erestor's trembling had ceased and he straightened his shoulders before relaxing into Glorfindel's embrace for the first time that day, "Aragog is just a messenger, why should he know what the message contained?"

"I've got a very strange feeling about this," the blond seneschal announced, feigning indignance as Erestor chuckled. "I really do!"

"You and your feelings, Fin," he shook his head, curtain-muted sunlight glittering damply on his ebony tresses, "They'll be the death of you one day."

"I hope not," Glorfindel closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, relishing in the soft smell enveloping him. The advisor always smelled of almonds and ink. "I hope to spend some more centuries with you." He paused, frowning. "Maybe even some millennia."

"You're a helpless romantic, seneschal," Eresor threw the offending parchment onto his desk, "What are we to do with this message?"

xxxGTLxxx

"I will stay," he announced suddenly, his blue green eyes still fixed on a passing butterfly. "I cannot go back now that I have denied my king information for so long."

"Bellmaethorion?" Lindir turned, staring bemusedly at the other elf, "What are you talking about? What information did you keep from your king?" The song of the birds was the only answer he received. They had decided to spend a quiet day down at the Bruinen and Lindir had agreed glady, hoping to get to know Bellmathorion a little better. An ancient weeping willow sheltered them from above, creating a tranquil grove if greenish twilight around them. Small, red flowers dotted the grass, glowing starkly red where they touched Bellmaehtorion's blond hair. Somehow they reminded Lindir of blood but the sight still took his breath away. Bellmaethorion was beautiful, there was no denying it. Cherry red lips bore a delicious contrast to the green of his eyes and a light, low-cut blue tunic revelaed a well-defined slightly bronzed chest. Dark brown leggins hugged his legs, ending in soft leather boot. All in all, Lindir had never seen anyone more beautiful. And the strange vulnerability he sensed in the strong warrior only added to the other's allure.

"Bellmaethorion?" Lindir repeated, forcing himself to take another breath, "What were you talking about?"

Slowly the emerald green eyes opened and came to rest on the minstrel's face, glowing with a soft feeling of warmth and contentment. "I have decided to stay in Imladris." Bellmaethorion elaborated, "If your lord will allow me to and Glorfindel doesn't kill me first."

"Glorfindel would never hurt a fellow elf!" Lindir protested, his violet eyes sparkling angrily as he sat up, "And it is your behaviour that sets him on edge and makes him act strangely!"

"My behaviour?" Repeated Bellmaethorion bemusedly, "But how can he take offense at my behaviour? I treat him just like everyone else! The only one who I treat differently from the others in Imladris are you!"

"Oh." Lindir blushed, settling down again, "Am I?"

"Yes." Bellmaethorion smiled his most dazzling smile and climbed up, gently taking the minstrel's hand as he knelt down in front of the silver-haired elf, "And if Lord Elrond grants me his permission to stay, Lindir," he paused, gazing deeply into the shimmering eyes in front of him, "If he does, will you agree to spend the rest of your time with me, as my bonded mate and husband?"

"Your husband?" Lindir asked, his eyes almost comically widened, "Do you really mean..." he gulped, "Do you really want me to be... ?"

"Yes," Bellmaethorion lightly traced Lindir's rind-finger with his hands, "I really want you to be the other part of me, I already feel as if you were and I want to make this official." He paused, smiling nervously. "I know this is sudden and we haven't known each other for very long but..."

"Yes!"

"But I really feel like I already know you and... what?" This time Bellmaethorion was the one looking more surprised than should be possible, "What?"

"I said yes," Lindir grinned, pulling the other elf up and burying him in a thight hug, "I said yes," he repeated softly, resting his head against Bellmaethorion's chest and listening to the frantoc beating of the other elf's heart, "I want to be your bonded mate."

xxxGTLxxx

"You have managed to surprise me." Elrond suddenly said, admiring the way the wine in his goblet reflected the light.

"What?"

Elrond ignored Thranduil's surprised stare and continued nonchalantly, "One could even say that you truly managed to impress me."

"And in what way did I manage to impress you?" Thranduil's eyebrows were almost disappearing into his hairline as he raised his eyes from the rim of his goblet.

Elrond smiled. "Do you really have to ask?"

"And what if I do?"

Elrond shook his head, briefly fixing his gaze on the table as he sat his goblet down. "Why do you continue to care for me? Why did you treat my wounds? Why did you endanger yourself and your guards just to rescue me? You lost so many men... why?" He repeated again finally, staring at the now sombre woodland king, "Why didn't you leave me there to die?"

"Why should I have?" Thranduil asked quietly, mirroring Elrond's way of putting the goblet down. "I would have attacked the being that had abducted you, even if you had already been dead." The emerald green eyes were hard as ice, causing Elrond to shudder unvoluntarily. "I do not tolerate evil in my woods."

"But you could have left me after you defeated Sadjan." Elrond insisted. His hands stilled as Thranduil slammed his goblet onto the table. Wet spots stained the table cloth, emitting a sickeningly sweet smell as they grew, darkening to a bloody red.

"I am no kin-slayer, peredhel," Thranduil snapped, already pushing back his chair, "In contrast to certain other elves. And you would do well to remember that."

Elrond nodded numbly, the small gesture hidden from Thranduil. Dumbfounded the half-elf stared at the swirling cloak of the woodland king. Why did his conversations with Thranduil always go wrong? Groaning he buried his face in his hands. Why was he unable to engage the other elf in a civil conversation? He was very aware of Thranduil's temper. After all he had been on the receiving end of it often enough. "Idiot..." Elrond smiled sadly as he muttered the word to the room. His smile faltered as his gaze came to rest on the half-eaten meal. Dark green robes rustled as he pushed himself out of his chair. He had to find a way to apologize to the woodland king. Maybe there was something he could do to help now that his wounds had almost healed?

xxxGTLxxx

"Their relationship seems still somewhat strained," Arwen whispered, leaning towards her husband, "Are you sure that won't be a problem?"

"Don't worry," Aragorn hid the shake of his head in a look into his goblet, "They'll sort it out somehow, they always have before." He smiled as he sniffed at the wine. "Their friendship is very strong."

"But they haven't been talking to each other for weeks now! What if they start a play of revenge?"

Aragorn snorted. "They are already playing a game of revenge and have been since the fellowship. Gimli just hasn't forgiven Legolas for the hair incident yet. You know how dwarves are with their beards. He'll come around somewhen."

"I only hope he'll come around soon," Arwen sighed, secretely glaring at the two prankster in question, "This endless silence at mealtimes is beginning to strain my nevers."

"They'll manage somehow. The only thing that worries me is our son's involvement in all this."

"You are right," a soft smile played on Arwen's lush lips, "I never thought that he would team up with Legolas. He always seemed to like Gimlie better."

"Maybe that is the reason why he decided to team up with Legolas," Aragorn raised an eyebrow at the scowling dwarf and shook his head, "He always pranks those he likes best."

"Don't you think it strage that father did not join us for the celebration?"

"Frankly, I don't know. I haven't heard from him directly for a very long time and the last news I received from Imladris weren't good."

"Which news do you mean?"

Aragorn smiled softly as he squeezed his wife's hand, "I'll tell you later. That topic is not fit for dinner conversation," he added with a meaningful look in the general direction of his advisors.

Faramir's brows furrowed as he noticed the king's gaze on him. He turned back to the seneschall with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He could not help the feeling that their king was hiding something important from them.