One thing about the Galadhrim, they did bring the place back to life a bit. Songs in the Hall of Fire were brighter, more heartfelt that night. The visitors were kindly attentive to Celeborn, taking turns to sit with him and talk about things they had in common; people, events, trees, other trees…

Elladan, Glorfindel noticed, already looked less stressed.

'To be honest, it's been a strain, with Roh away,' he confided in the seneschal. 'And Daerada's starting to look a bit happier, don't you think?'

Glorfindel nodded, his attention not really on the conversation. Across the hall, one of the Galadhrim was talking to Melpomaen; it looked more than friendly, and when the visitor lifted a hand to touch Mel's hair, Glorfindel had to look away and stifle a growl; even though he and Melpomaen were only bed-friends that didn't mean he wanted the youngster getting swept up in the mystery of one of Lothlórien's former denizens and ending up pining even more...

Moments later, though, Mel was by his side, laughing, offering wine.

'That fellow! They are not subtle these Galadhrim, "Do you happen to know any good talain around here where one might spend the night in company with a fair young Noldo, perchance?" I told him; no talain, no spending the night, didn't happen to know any fair young Noldo… then he smiled and lifted an eyebrow and he said actually, he meant me, so I told him I was flattered but I was already spoken for. I may, I hope, share your bed tonight, Glorfindel? It would be such a kindness…'

'Anything to protect you from the bold Galadhrim, penneth.'

'I'll go ahead, then, and wait for you.' Mel smiled. 'Bring a bottle of that beer you like, if you wish; we can play Silvan games.'

'Make sure you bring a towel, then!'

…There was a voice.

Glorfindel tried to ignore it, to turn away, but the voice whispered on, urgent and insistent.

'If you leave at once…'

He knew it, of course, knew who it belonged to…

This was a dream, it had to be a dream, that was the only time he saw this fellow these days, in dreams...

'You can do it if you hurry…'

Everything about him dark. Hair like indigo silk, eyes like obsidian, black robes, when he moved, light spilling out. His breath, as he whispered, so sweet, fragrant.

Suddenly reaching out to grab one of Glorfindel's golden braids and tug hard.

'Now, sluggard – wake up! You have need of haste this day.'

Glorfindel sat up with a gasp, his head still aching from where his braid had been yanked by his dream vision of Lord Námo, Doomsman of the Valar. Next to him in the bed Melpomaen whimpered a protest and grabbed at the sliding covers.

Sweet Mel! Warm and friendly, loving and caring, but no desperate, intense love between them, just gentle affection; he really ought to sail soon, but...

Now he rolled onto his back and looked up at Glorfindel with sleepy eyes.

'What's the matter? It's dark, still, you never wake before dawn in winter...'

'Just a dream,' Glorfindel said absently. 'At least, I hope it was a dream...'

He slid down in the bed, turning onto his side to prop his head on one hand and smile winningly at Melpomaen.

'But, seeing as we're both awake...?'

But Mel, healer and mystic, was frowning.

'What was your dream, Glorfindel?'

The golden-haired seneschal sighed, looking down into Mel's gentle eyes and knew this little interlude of peace was ended, at least for a time.

'Dragons,' he said.

'Dragons? But… I do not understand… Where, dragons?'

'In the Greenwood, I think. I have to go, Námo says, I must…'

Glorfindel sighed, unable to shake the dream, the sense of something ending, and leaned forward to kiss his friend gently on the cheek.

'Thank you for this, Mel,' he said. 'You've been a kind companion. I know I'm not who you really want...'

Mel grimaced, trying to smile but emotion getting in the way.

'We've been kind companions to each other. I've been less lonely, thanks to you. Maybe I really will sail soon.'

Glorfindel shook his head as clarity came to him.

'No, you won't,' he said. 'At least, not until Lindir does. Then it'll all come right for you, you'll see. I know, I know he loves his human lady, but have you ever thought what will happen after she dies?'

'Not with respect to myself; it would feel wrong. But for Lindir…'

'He will be very sad, of course. If he doesn't go to see her, he'll feel ashamed of himself for not making himself be braver. But if he does go, and he sees she's happily married, he might feel better for her, if worse for himself. And if he were to go and find she was widowed or something, then he might get a few decades with her to be happy in. Then he'll be heartbroken when she dies, of course. But at least he won't have the guilt and the shame that he'll convince himself is his due that way. If you get the chance, Mel, make him go to see his Kovalia. However much it might hurt him, it will be the sort of hurt he can get over that way.'

'Findel? Why this, why now?'

'Because I might not have chance to tell you else. Oh, and he's going to need someone, a shoulder to cry on. But – and you're probably wise enough to know this – if you want to love him, let yourself be just his friend. I know Lindir, he might want more… physical comfort. Solace. But it you do, then it will be much harder for you to be his lover afterwards, he…'

'Glorfindel! He loves his Kovalia! He isn't going to want anyone else, ever; she is his forever-love...'

'You think? That would make them fëa-mates… but they can't be that, Mel. Because she's human and he's an elf. She has a soul, not a fëa; it isn't going to happen.'

'But… Arwen… and her Estel…'

'Arwen's peredhel ancestry. She can choose to love as a human or to love as an elf. She's gone for the mortal option, so she'll be treated as a human, according to her human love. But Lindir's a full elf. He doesn't get to choose. Only to be sad when his human lady dies. Mel, it means that there's a fëa-mate waiting for him somewhere. I think it's you, if you can be patient enough to wait for him to see it for himself. You certainly deserve to be loved by someone who can give you their heart, their whole heart, Mel. I've been so grateful to you. The winters would have been very cold without you.'

'Glorfindel – all this makes it sound as if you're saying goodbye...?'

'I know, I hate it, but... that's how it feels, penneth. So… just this once, come back to bed and make love to me as the day breaks?'

'Findel… how can I refuse when you say things like that? Yes, just this once, but do not expect me to agree next time…'

The sad thing was, Glorfindel realised, even as he pushed the thought away and opened his arms, it did not feel as if there would ever be a next time…

They had been on the point of dressing when there was a knocking at the outer door.

'Melpomaen, Glorfindel, you are both called to an urgent meeting in the Great Hall,' Lindir's voice called out. 'Elladan says it will not wait.'

'Ai, officially rumbled at last! Sorry, Mel!'

'Don't worry; I am sure there are other things to occupy the minds of our friends this morning.'

Breakfast had been laid in the Great Hall, but very few of those present were eating.

Elladan sat in Elrond's chair for once, his face pale and worried. Erestor and Arveldir sat quietly, waiting. Lindir's brows were knitted; the minstrel was obviously disconcerted by whatever had happened to rouse the house this early. At the far end of the table, the Galadhrim were helping Celeborn who was oblivious to any undertones around him; Pelilastor looked round at Glorfindel and Melpomene's entrance, looked away again.

Elladan saw them enter, relief lifting the worry from his eyes a little

'Thank you for hastening,' he said. 'Something has happened – or will happen – to our friends in Eryn Lasgalen, I fear. You know how closely bonded Roh and I are… I had a dream, or a vision…'

'Yes, of course,' Glorfindel said. 'Is he all right?'

'I wish I knew... the northern enclave... I see Roh there, and Rusdir safe, and yet I feel this great dread, while around them is confusion… I do not want to worry anyone but, Glorfindel, I know sometimes you have insights too…'

'Is it dragons?' Glorfindel said. 'I dreamed someone was telling me, there are still dragons and if you leave now, you will be in time...'

'I do not know for sure, I saw flames, and... the talan towns burning, Silvans trapped between the flames and something large and looming, stopping them getting to safety... elflings, little ones, my honour brother has kin there...'

'That sounds like dragons to me,' Glorfindel said.

'Is there ought else you can add, Glorfindel?' Elladan asked.

The seneschal frowned, trying to remember...

'That if I leave today, I'll be in time,' he said. 'Otherwise... he was whispering, telling me things, but I can't... just the dragons. And...'

He swallowed, suddenly unable to meet Melpomaen's eyes.

'And he said to make sure I said my goodbyes before I left.'

There were more arguments, in the finish, about who should stay than who should go. Everyone wanted to ride out to help their Silvan friends, it seemed, for since Elrond had sailed the ties between Eryn Lasgalen and Imladris had become much closer.

'I have to go,' Glorfindel said. 'My dream visitor insisted; this is my duty.'

'I'll come too,' Elladan said firmly.

'Look, you don't understand. My dream, my visit from Lord Námo, my task!'

'My brother needs me. Daerada can stay and look after business.'

Glorfindel sighed and glanced across at where Celeborn was frowning as he tried to put honey on his toast with the aid of a gentle-handed Galadhrim.

'Your Daerada can't even look after his own laces these days, never mind Imladris, 'Dan, you have to stay...'

'Well, Erestor and Arveldir...'

'My lord Elladan,' Arveldir interrupted. 'You have always said I am a welcome guest, with no onus on me to work for Imladris, that I am a free agent. Now my former home, perhaps my lord the king, is in danger, how can I stay?'

'And my place is with my husband,' Erestor said.

'But, Erestor...'

'No, too often have I put my marriage to one side to serve the needs of the Valley; I will not do so again.'

'Look, this is my party!' Glorfindel said. 'I'm not even taking Asfaloth; no, Elladan, you need to stay here, be safe.'

'But you're our friend, Fin. We can't let you wander off by yourself; you might fall into the Bruinen…'

'It's too dangerous; I don't matter, I'm ready to move on, if that's what this is. But you have lives and people who need you…'

'And we need you, Glorfindel,' Erestor said. 'Or we need to stand with you. You may have had the dream, but was not this the way, of old? One would have a vision and call his friends to help. You have spoken of your dream, this issuing a tacit invitation to the rest of us to help you in your task.'

'But…'

'Give in gracefully, Glorfindel,' Arveldir said. 'Or set off alone, but we will be riding the same trail, at the same time, whether you like it or not.'

In fact, the only ones who weren't keen to go were Melpomaen and Lindir.

'I am willing to stay here, and make sure Lord Celeborn doesn't fall into the Bruinen,' Mel said. 'But I cannot be in charge. Surely, Lord Elladan, you could stay? If the news of dragons spreads, even though we are safe here, people will worry and without your leadership...'

'What do you say, Lindir?'

The minstrel shrugged.

'I am but a minstrel and occasional chamberlain; I cannot imagine it will be a matter for song, not at first, and while I have some skill with a longbow, I am out of practice...'

'Stay here with me, then' Melpomaen said. 'Your singing is soothing, still, and Lord Celeborn is cheered by your playing. And besides, someone has to help Elladan with the Galadhrim.'

'Now, wait! I haven't agreed to stay, yet!'

'No. But we have agreed for you, Elladan; you are needed here.'

Glorfindel went to the stables and had a conversation with Asfaloth.

'You've been a great friend, the only friend I had at times. My best friend, this side of the Sundering Seas. We've seen a lot together, haven't we, eh?' He rummaged in his pocket and found a few dried blackberries which he fed to the stallion. 'You've got me out of danger more times than I care to count. And I've taken you into danger far too often. So this time, I want you to stay here, do you hear me? Let Celeborn have a ride now and then, yes, I know he giggles and says 'Nice horsey!' and you hate being called a horsey, but he means it well… now, you wouldn't want me worrying about you while I've got hero work to do, would you? And we'll be in the forest, it's not as if it's easy terrain to ride through… no, I'm not saying you're getting old. But only yesterday you were grumbling about being routed from your stall and having to carry this great lump of a seneschal up the valley, don't think I didn't notice…'

He sighed and buried his head in Asfaloth's foam-bright mane. The animal snorted, shifting his front feet a little so that he braced against the ellon as Glorfindel's arm went around his neck; it was a very good place to weep, hidden by your horse's mane, and the seneschal and erstwhile Balrog-Slayer, hero of a hundred battles, wasn't averse to a little cry now and again; he had learned long ago that letting his emotions build up wasn't really good for any one, least of all Elrond's household servants or the wine cellar, and he had no wish to take out his strange sense of sorrow out on his friends. Asfaloth stood as he had stood a hundred times, supporting his elven friend and providing his own sort of horsey comfort until presently Glorfindel sniffed, wiped his eyes on the back of his forearm, and stood eye to eye with his horse.

'Now, there's no need to get all weepy about it,' he said bracingly. 'You'll be much better off here in the warm, and… oh, all right then. If you insist. Truth is, I don't really like riding any of the other nags – don't tell them, though – they don't know how to pick out the softest path like you do. I'm sending you home, mind, as soon as it looks like danger, all right? All right. And then you can be friends with Mel for me, can you do that? Lovely. Well, while I'm here, I might as well braid your tail for you. Might even lend you one of my braid clasps, what do you think?'

Glorfindel was glad he'd got his emotions dealt with and tidied away when, some twenty minutes later, Pelilastor came seeking him in the stables. If the seneschal's eyes were still red-rimmed, at least the Galadhrim had the courtesy to pretend not to notice and got to the point immediately.

'You must want us gone, here at such a difficult time; and we gladly will head out towards the Havens if so… but some of my kin have asked if they might ride with you, for the sake of the old ties between our lord Celeborn and the Sinda kings of the Greenwood. Not many, I should tell you, for we are less bold than we were and really only came to pay our respects to our lord Celeborn before heading West, but a half dozen are willing. They are good archers, of course, and brave warriors. I will fulfil my promise and stay here with Lord Celeborn.' He smiled. 'To assist in preventing him from falling into the Bruinen.'

'Thank you, that's good of you. Elladan will sulk for a little, and then forgive us for leaving him behind. Melpomaen is a fine healer. Lindir… he helps run things when Arveldir and Erestor are busy, he'll make sure the place doesn't go to wrack and ruin while we're gone, excuse him being a bit sad. So stay, all of you, as long as you like. Nobody will mind and it might be better for everyone else with more people around. And if your friends are riding out with us, it makes sense for you to wait for them to ride back with us and you can continue on together.'

Pelilastor inclined his head; neither elf voiced the thought that if it was really dragons, then maybe not all who rode out would ride back.

'As you wish, then. We are grateful.'

The company rode out after a hasty midday meal.

Glorfindel led the way, Arveldir and Erestor behind him, leading a supply horse, the six Galadhrim following after as rear-guard. None of them were exactly at ease, riding towards unknown danger, and it was not the best of times to be setting off across the Misty Mountains; less than two weeks from the dark of the year and the snowline, never far away at these altitudes, was soon reached and the pace slowed a little as the horses picked their way over slippery, icy ground.

'We need to head north now, towards Trollshaws,' Glorfindel said as they halted at the end of the first day's riding. 'It's not the most obvious route, but it's the one that feels right from my dream. Once over the mountains, it's a straighter run to the forest. With any luck we should be there for Yule and in plenty of time for the Night of the Names if we got fast. It won't be the first time I've hurried to get to the Woodland Realm in time for the celebrations.' He halted, faltering. 'I've wondered, you know, how is... everyone there...?'

Erestor and Arveldir exchanged glances. There was a tacit agreement that matters Silvan were not discussed in front of Glorfindel, except in the most general of ways, unless he asked.

But now, he was asking.

'The last news I heard was almost two months ago now,' Arveldir began. 'Ahead of Elrohir and Rusdir's departure; a standard missive, business matters mostly, no gossip. The prince and his spouse are still in Ithilien, and the king intended a visit to them; in fact, there were plans for him to spend Yule at the old palace we knew of yore, near the river, and then travel on to Ithilien for the New Year festivals.'

'What about our... our friends in the new northern palace complex?'

Here it came. Erestor and Arveldir exchanged glances,

They had seen at first-hand how in love Glorfindel had been with his Silvan, had witnessed how the brave and gentle warrior had pulled the Balrog-Slayer back from the brink of despair more than once. But Glorfindel had seemed to accept their last parting as final, had moved on, in time, taken interest in life again. Still, it seemed, he held this Silvan still very close to his heart.

'Commander Triwathon still leads the garrison there, with Master Parvon as Advisor-in-Chief to the palace.'

It was politic to mention Parvon in the same breath as Triwathon; the Advisor-in-Chief had been another of Triwathon's admirers, steadfast and patient. Whether or not time had finally worked its magic and turned Triwathon towards Parvon, Arveldir did not know. But it was worth reminding Glorfindel that he might not light up Triwathon's sky in quite the same way he used to.

But the seneschal shook his head, impatient, annoyed, perhaps.

'Arveldir, Triwathon and I were over long ago. Doesn't mean I don't miss him, doesn't mean I don't want to know how he is. Just means I'm not going to make a nuisance of myself over him, if that's what you're worried about.'

'No, my friend,' Arveldir said softly. 'I am worried only about causing you pain, and I know Triwathon would not wish you to be hurt, either. To the best of my knowledge, he is still single, still decorously pursued by Parvon, and still loving his job and doing it superbly.'

Glorfindel nodded.

'My thanks. That's more the sort of thing I wanted to hear, that he's well, and happy, and still being amazing. A note at New Year doesn't really tell me very much.' The Balrog-Slayer sighed. 'Seems like a long time ago now. Well, no, it seems like yesterday... but a very long yesterday, perhaps, a yesterday with far too many hours in it...'

'If this is the start of one of your wonderful reminiscences, Glorfindel, I must beg to be excused,' Erestor said. 'We have a long ride ahead of us and I would rest my bones whilst I can. Besides, I was there when you met Triwathon.'

'Were you? Sorry, I didn't notice...'

'As I recall, the king's Honour Guard was about to ride home in their warrior paint, and you begged to become an honorary guard. Triwathon was the one who helped you with your paint...'

Glorfindel laughed. 'Yes, yes, that indeed was the moment! Ai, Triwathon...! How very far we have come from that day, not just he and I, but you and Erestor, too...'

'Ah, we have much to thank Triwathon for, Glorfindel,' Erestor said.

'Well, let us hope we can give him our thanks in person,' Arveldir said. 'And soon.'