Thanks to Haldir's Heart and Soul, Author Unknown, and Beatrisu for your comments. :)


His fingers danced over the strings, caressing like a lover, as he leaned over the instrument, face set as if in thrall with his own music. Green eyes were half lidded, gaze drawn inward, as the entrancing music sang up from the strings beneath his finger tips. Each little touch, brought a new sound forth, weaving the notes into a song, nearly as breathtaking as the one who crafted it.

Moonlight hair spilled down, giving backdrop to those silver strings, melding with them, even though they never touched, never came close to doing so, Lindir was far too careful with both to ever let one become entangled with the other.

Yet, it gave him a distinctively look, as if of one of those entrancing spirits said to live deep within the woods, apart from man or Elf. Those whose hair could become their instrument, to play in order to seduce and steal away the souls of those who saw them.

Erestor was very sure the younger Elf had long ago stolen his, and not just his heart. Especially during these times, when he alone was watching him practice beside the ever burning fire in the Hall of Fire. Lindir never spoke when he practiced, all his focus, all himself, was intertwined with his music alone, untouchable to anyone else who was near.

The Councilor found he didn't mind though. To hear such, to be witness to the birth of songs from one of the last great minstrels left in Arda during the third age, was a wonder.

And to think, this mysterious, and spellbinding Elf, had entreated to him the chance to look beyond what the notes only hinted at.

Yet, he knew nothing. In the few months since their arrangement, Lindir had revealed little about himself. Trivial things, such as his favorite color, or drink, the occasional dream, and the like, but nothing truly deep, nothing that those songs whispered of. Even so, Erestor had taken all those trivial and not so trivial things to heart, committing them to memory, for Lindir's sake.

Much, had been for Lindir's sake as of late.

Erestor had changed his very rigid schedule over the last while. At the start, they had only been able to meet in the evenings, after Lindir's performances, when Erestor's own work was finished. Yet, that hadn't seemed enough the more they came to know each other. So he had spoken with Elrond, and had adjusted his working to give himself a bit more extra time, like now, to be with Lindir.

Elrond had oddly encouraged it, stating firmly that it was a good thing that Erestor had more to concentrate on then just Imladris. Erestor had in turn stated he was doing it for Lindir, not really himself, to which the other had merely smiled.

In truth, the Councilor felt that his old friend knew more then he, and was not going to indulge it.

It was very likely the case, though Erestor could prove nothing for or against it. Elrond was after all the one who had practically raised Lindir, with his own children, when the young one had arrived at Imladris, orphaned and alone.

It was at times like these, that Erestor wondered why he himself was not closer to Lindir, had not been so before. He had been the one to find him that fateful day. He could still remember how dirty and thin the little one had been, uneven hair matted with dirt and leaves. The only thing that had actually been clear about the Elfling had been his green eyes, so haunted and empty.

No one really knew how he had gotten there, or what exactly had happened to his parents. At best, Elrond might have known, but had never spoken of it, keeping whatever confidences Lindir had given him, to himself.

Erestor could remember a time when the younger hadn't been able to speak, let alone sing. He had always been so shy, so quiet, keeping his distance even when Elrond finally got him to at least smile, and play with the younger twins.

The Head Minstrel at the time, Orodreth, had finally been able to give back the Elfling's voice. He had never said how he had done so. Merely one day, Lindir came into the Hall of Fire where the old Elf had been practicing alone, and that night, he had walked out singing. Before that, the little one had always shown interest in music, in the harp, and in the voices. So it had made sense that it had awakened his own in the end.

After that, he had unraveled from his hidden self, revealing his talent, and his warm, loving spirit. Yet, even then... Erestor had no idea why he didn't know him better. Somehow, he had been too busy to do more then keep an ear open to news of that orphaned Elfling.

Until at some point, he wasn't truly sure when, it had struck him how beautiful Lindir had turned out, and how he was no longer an Elfling, but an Elf. Then he had started watching him, finally truly seeing what he had missed before. Bright smiles and sweet laughter, secrets hidden within tender green eyes, music that whispered of what he had missed all those years.

Lindir had gone from a mere familiarity, to something he desired, someone he dreamed of. And now, someone he was trying to understand, and in time, hopefully, become more then just an acquaintance and somewhat friend.

"Erestor?" his thoughts were swept away at that voice, and he looked up into mildly concerned eyes.

Smiling a little, he shook his head, "Forgive me, Lindir. Your music seemingly brought some things to mind."

A faint return of his smile, and Lindir sat beside him, "I have been told it tends to do that. But then, music is intended to speak to the soul."

"And so it does," Erestor agreed, reaching ever so hesitantly to lightly touch the younger's hand.

Lindir allowed it, even encouraged it, with a gentle look, and with moving his hand till it grasped Erestor's loosely, "And what did it say to you?"

Looking to their entwined hands, it took a long moment before the older could answer, as he gathered his thoughts, and considered what to say, "Mostly of regret, for the time I wasted looking the wrong way," he confessed finally, softly, gazing into those green eyes.

Something softened sweetly in those features, and Lindir's free hand came to touch his cheek. That was one thing Erestor had truly noted, their touches had become more casual, more common. Especially on Lindir's part, though he was sure that was because the younger was more open then he in some ways.

"Are you looking the right way now?" he asked softly, though those deep eyes said he already knew the answer.

Nevertheless, Erestor gave his reply, laying his own hand on top of Lindir's as he leaned into his touch, "Yes."

"Then that is all that matters," Lindir assured, leaning in a little.

Erestor mirrored his actions, having a feeling of what was to come. Inside, something seemed to tighten, as the distance between them became less. Then finally, warm lips touched his, melded against his, tasting of something he couldn't identify, despite his very long years. He had never had such, thus it was Lindir alone, sweet with just a hint of spice.

There was a hunger there, for a few moments, between him, and Lindir, a devouring need to be closer, to have more of that taste. Yet, even though air was not an issue, the kiss was brief, before Lindir pulled away a little. Erestor kept his disappointment and longing to himself, as the minstrel looked away,

"Lindir?" he couldn't help but question, wondering if he had done something wrong, pushed too far...

"Let's go to the garden, Erestor," Lindir didn't give him a chance, that vague but beautiful smile back in place, as the younger stood, and offered his hand.

The older let it go for the moment, sighing inwardly, even though he took Lindir's hand, and allowed the minstrel to lead him out, after picking up his harp for him. Neither spoke of the kiss the rest of that day, though Lindir stayed close to Erestor after that, always keeping a hand near his arm, or pressing close when he played.

Possibly another small victory, the Councilor wasn't quite sure. He merely hoped it was.