"They'll be back, of course," said a gentle voice behind him. "
Who - the Orcs or the Numenoreans?" he asked, scowling at the mist before turning to face Círdan.
"Both, I expect," the shipwright said with a wry smile. "How does Elrond feel about these voyages? Is he glad to see his kin?"
"Elrond?" the king said vaguely. "I... well, I assume he is. I never really asked him."
"You should take more time with him, Ereinion," Círdan said softly. "He worships you."
Gil-galad said nothing for a moment and then turned away towards the window again. "Yes, well - we both know what hero worship comes to, don't we?" He could hear the bitterness in his own words and it surprised him.
"I know the two of you are close," Círdan said patiently. "Why is it so difficult for you to talk to me about this?"
"Because I feel the same way about him as I did about you!" the king hissed, turning suddenly, eyes fiery and hurt. "The way I still feel about you. And still I have to -" He ran his fingers through his hair and faced the misty window once more.
"You have to send him away," Círdan said quietly.
Silence fell between them for several moments and then Gil-galad whispered, "I almost died when I lost you. I don't know that I could bear losing him as well."
Círdan took a step towards the younger Elf, an arm out to comfort, then stopped as a knock came at the door.
"Come," the king said, his voice still hoarse with emotion.
The door opened, and Erestor entered with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry my Lord, I've tried, but it's not going to happen..." He bowed, and there Elrond stood behind him, defiant, determined, and wearing only soft cotton house clothes.
"I'm not wearing it," Elrond said.
Erestor shook his head. "I tried to explain that in order to have the armour fit properly he needs to put it on and have a few small adjustments made-"
"It fits fine," Elrond interrupted. "And I will of course wear it when I leave tomorrow, but not now. Not inside; it's awkward." He raised his chin and looked at Gil-galad. Círdan, silver eyebrows raised just a bit, took a definite step backward, suddenly very interested in the mist outside the window.
The look of defiance sent a race of desire through the king and his gaze met Elrond's, firm and unyielding. "A warrior's strength depends on his grace in battle and no warrior is graceful with armour that is not perfectly fitted to his body." He fought back a smirk. "You *will* put it on and you *will* be fitted. Do you understand me?"
Elrond scowled. "I tried it already. And it fits fine. That's good enough."
Erestor shook his head. "Elrond..."
"I said it's good enough." He took a step forward, eyes still on Gil-galad. Erestor glanced at him, then at the king.
Gil-galad moved towards Elrond, eyes fierce and bright. "I will be the judge of that," he nearly purred. "I want you perfect. You *will* try it on."
Elrond remained still and silent until the king was close in front of him. Slowly he glanced over toward Círdan at the window, then back to Gil-galad with narrowed eyes. "It fits," he said, and then turned to leave the room.
Quick as a flash of light, Gil-galad's hand shot out and caught his herald's arm. "No," he said in low, predatory voice, "it doesn't. It won't until you've had the detailed fitting, which, given your attitude, will be done in front of me." He gave a nod to Erestor. "Bring it in, please."
Erestor bowed before retreating down the corridor toward Elrond's chambers, and Elrond watched him go. Then Elrond turned back to Gil-galad, twisting his arm in the king's firm grip. But he said nothing, only frowned.
"Perhaps I should be going..." Círdan murmured, turning from the window.
"Not too far -" Gil-galad muttered, holding Elrond tighter. "We dine in an hour and I want you there - if that's all right with you."
The Lord of the Havens gave a small bow and left, hiding a smile.
As soon as he was gone the king's eyes snapped back onto Elrond. "And just what is the meaning of *this*," he said, holding Elrond's wrist aloft. "Making me out to be a fool in front of my oldest friend."
Elrond twisted his arm again, but Gil-galad's grip was strong. "Do not thank me," Elrond said. "I'm sure you would have managed to act foolish enough on your own without my help." Then he pulled hard away from Gil-galad and said with a cool voice, "Now let me go; you are acting like a child.
The king did everything he could to keep a serious face. "*I'm* acting like a child, am I? Even though *you're* the one who's balking at a fitting like a *human* child might." He gave the younger Elf a smirk and then barked, "Erestor, now!"
"One moment, my Lord..." Erestor called from the corridor, and a moment later he was in the doorway. An older Elf in a leather apron helped him to carry the plate armour and garments of chain mail, which were set on the floor next to Gil-galad and Elrond with a dull metallic sound. Elrond looked away to windows on the far wall.
Gil-galad waited while the armour was put on and then stood back, regarding Elrond critically. "Here," he said, tossing the younger Elf a sword, "try a few feints. Let's see how it moves."
Elrond took an apathetic swing toward Gil-galad. "It's good."
But the Elf in the apron shook his head and walked around to where the king stood, then went to Elrond. "It seems fine across the shoulders," he said, "but right here..." He frowned and took a marker from one of his apron pockets marked a thin like across the plate at Elrond's lower back. "This here sits too low, I think, and on the sides as well. I'll move the entire section up about a finger's width, and that should allow for a bit more flexibility."
He knelt and made another mark toward the bottom edge of the mail skirt that hung almost to Elrond's knees. "Also, this need not be so long. I'll remove the bottom five rows of links from all four sections. That shouldn't interfere with the protection, but it will make it somewhat lighter." Then turning to Gil-galad, he asked, "What do you think, my Lord?"
"That sounds excellent," Gil-galad murmured; "I don't want his movement hampered. Being fast is one of his talents - we don't want to lose that." He looked to Elrond. "Draw your sword again and make a few feints."
Again Elrond made an effortless swing toward Gil-galad, and the Elf in the apron nodded. "I'll make those adjustments and then bring it back later this afternoon for perhaps another final fitting." Then he and Erestor helped Elrond out of the armour, and they bowed and left.
"Come and have a glass of wine with me, Elrond," the king murmured, turning to the sideboard and opening the bottle. Elrond moved to stand next to him, close enough so that their arms barely touched, and took the glass that was offered.
"Thank you," Elrond said quietly, but added nothing else. He looked intently at his wine as he drank.
"Are you truly ready for this campaign?" Gil-galad murmured, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Elrond's ear. "I need to know that you'll be taking care of yourself. It's agony to let you go."
"Of course I will," Elrond said. "I'll be fine." Still though he looked down into his wine, refusing to meet Gil-galad's gaze, and his fingers tightened around the glass nervously. "You worry too much," he added. "You always worry."
"I'm the King - it's my prerogative," Gil-galad said, smiling. "Besides, it's not like you're really replaceable, now is it? I want you to come back to me." He leaned in as if for a kiss and whispered into Elrond's ear, "You *will* come back to me, won't you? I shall miss you so terribly..."
Elrond only scowled and turned away, taking a few steps back. "You told me such things before, when I said I would lead this assault. There is no need to go over it again. We are in a time of war, and we do what must be done. You think too much on trivial matters."
There was a moment of silence and then Gil-galad's voice was low and hoarse. "My feelings for you are anything but trivial. Surely you understand how difficult this is for me: I know beyond all doubt you're the best one to lead, and yet - " He turned away and looked out of a long window at the back of the room, out to the tumbling line of the coast beyond. "I fear this parting may be longer than either of us plan."
Elrond's harsh expression wavered, but was almost immediately re-established with greater determination. "Well I am certain you will be able to endure it," he said.
Closing the distance between them, Gil-galad took Elrond's arm and stared into his face. "Why are you acting this way? We have so little time left before you leave - is this really the way you want to spend it?"
Elrond only stared blankly back at the king, shrugging off the touch on his arm. "Maybe," he said quietly, and turned and walked to the door, pausing for a second to look back at Gil-galad and add, "I will see you later." Then he disappeared silently down the corridor, passing Círdan with no more than a slight nod of acknowledgment.
A wave of anguish passed through the king as Elrond left and for one terrible moment he thought he might drop where he stood. For the first time in all of the years he had known him, Elrond appeared to be indifferent to him, completely unemotional.
It was difficult enough to take in and of itself. Their relationship had always been intensely close and the feel of it missing was a shock to his system. But coming on the eve of Elrond's ride to Eriador it only highlighted the impending absence of his minstrel and lover - an absence that would be fraught with worry for Elrond's safety.
Moving as though through gauze, he wandered to the window in the far wall and gazed unseeingly out at the Gulf beyond.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Do you suppose he's angry?"
"No. I don't know. Why?"
"He hasn't come to see me all evening," Elrond said. "Probably everyone else and his dog has come to ask my opinion or give me advice or see if I need anything or just get in my way, but I've not seen him since midday. And now it is dark."
He sat on the bed with his arms resting on his knees and looked over to Glorfindel, who stood at the window. "I begged him to let me go, you know," he continued. "I remember wanting more than anything for him to trust me or find me competent enough to ride with his soldiers. When he said I would lead I was so terribly pleased with myself..." He shook his head. "And now that I leave tomorrow I want more than anything just to stay here."
Glorfindel smiled. "You are only nervous," he said. "It will pass. Tomorrow, perhaps, when you sit atop your horse and look over your troops standing before you with their banners unfurled, you will be terribly pleased again."
"I don't know," Elrond murmured. "The more I think on it, the more I realize how unqualified I am."
"Every great leader must begin with a first battle," said Glorfindel.
"I suppose... I just wish it weren't such an imperative one." Elrond stood and moved to stand beside Glorfindel at the window, leaning his head against his friend's shoulder. "If we are defeated..." he started, but his voice trailed off and the thought remained incomplete.
"You will lead them as best you can," Glorfindel said quietly.
"The best I can could result in failure. Then what? Will Gil-galad ride himself to correct my mistakes? Or would the defeat be so disastrous that there is no hope of salvation and Sauron would at last take Lindon? I cannot do this, Glorfindel, I cannot; my mind is so set on every possible losing outcome that... I just cannot do this."
"Have you told him that?"
"No... How could I? After being so insistent? I only wish..." Elrond paused and leaned on the window ledge, looking down to the rocks below as the wind cause his hair to dance around his face like fire. "I wish he knew how afraid I am. Or how much wiser he would be to choose another to take my place."
Glorfindel smirked, and put his arm around Elrond's shoulders. "Is that why you were acting like such a child this morning?"
Frowning, Elrond pulled away. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Erestor told me about the entire armour fitting scene. I suppose that was an effort to help Gil-galad realize just how dependable and responsible you are?"
Elrond scowled at Glorfindel, but gave no reply. He went to his dressing table and toyed with the few items rested there, giving his best effort at appearing too interested in rearranging combs and hair-ties to notice Glorfindel looking at him with concerned eyes. He bit his lip.
"I wanted so much for him just to say that he had changed his mind and wanted me to stay here with him," he finally said, very quietly. "To say that he didn't think it was wise for me to leave, that I shouldn't leave, that he didn't want me to leave."
"Hmmn," was Glorfindel's only response.
Elrond ran his hands through his hair and gathered it into a loose pigtail at the nape of his neck. "In any case," he said, "I am sleepy, and would go to bed now to be rested for tomorrow's departure."
"Well then," said Glorfindel as he walked to the door, "I will see you in the morning; do try to sleep well." He grinned. "It may be your last night in a comfortable bed for a long time. Good night."
Elrond half smiled back. "Good night," he said, and let his hair fall free again as Glorfindel left.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Are you asleep?"
Gil-galad started up from his map table, eyes gone red from the smoke of the torches. He'd been pouring over maps of Eregion for hours and had dozed off momentarily, his head on his hands. Now he brushed a hand through his hair and blinked at Elrond, standing in the doorway of his chamber.
"I would have thought you'd have gone to bed some time ago," he said stiffly, avoiding the question. "Aren't you leaving at first light?"
Elrond nodded. "I wanted to say... goodbye to you," he said quietly. "And I couldn't sleep." With arms crossed and clenched tensely across his chest, he slowly walked to where Gil-galad sat.
"What seems to be the problem?" the king murmured, looking up at him, wanting to wrap his arms around Elrond's shoulders but not knowing how his herald would take the gesture.
Elrond gently reached down to brush the few stray tangled hairs away from Gil-galad's forehead and cheek. "My bed was too cold," he whispered.
A wave of relief washed through the king at the touch of Elrond's hand. He grasped it and pulled him down for a kiss, long and lingering. "I thought you would leave without saying a proper goodbye... I would have hated that. You seemed positively contemptuous of me earlier."
"I'm sorry," Elrond murmured, breathing against Gil-galad's lips. "I was being so stupid. I was just... anxious, I suppose, or nervous. I don't know." His free hand moved and caught the back of the king's neck, pulling him into another, softer kiss. "I am sorry..." Elrond whispered again.
"Stop apologising and kiss me again," the king ordered, and when it had been done he pulled Elrond onto his lap, facing him. He stroked Elrond's face with long, powerful fingers and then asked, "Why should you be nervous? You're the best I've got - and the cleverest. If anyone can do this job properly it's you."
"I've never done anything like this before," Elrond said. "So of course I am worried. How can I not be?" He rested his forehead on Gil-galad's shoulder, momentarily abandoning himself to the soothing touches of his lover's hand stroking his cheek and hair. His arms snaked around Gil-galad's waist. "What if I fail?"
A soft press of lips to his neck and Gil-galad husked, "You will not fail. Whatever happens it will make our position a better one. I believe in you that strongly. So put away your doubts and believe in yourself."
Brushing the hair away from Elrond's neck, he nuzzled against it, drinking in the younger Elf's scent. "Stars, how I'll miss this..."
Elrond tightened his grip around the king's waist. "I will miss *you*," he said. "I cannot imagine how we should be apart for so long." He turned he head so that he and Gil-galad were cheek to cheek with his lips pressed against the older Elf's skin.
Taking advantage of the vulnerable neck so close to his lips, Gil-galad nuzzled down and then, pulling Elrond's head back by tugging at his hair, he bit down softly, leaving marks at the juncture of neck and shoulder. "I'll go mad without you, you know," he murmured. "Wanting you... knowing you're so far away."
Growling softly, he raised his head and brushed his lips teasingly against his herald's mouth, staring hard into his eyes. "You will *not* fall in love - or even in lust - with anyone else while you're away. Is that understood?"
Elrond smirked. "How could I? Anyone else would pale in comparison to you, my king." He rested his forehead against Gil-galad's so that their noses touched. "Do you think I could ever be happy with another?"
The slight huskiness of his voice made Gil-galad's blood race and he pressed himself between Elrond's legs, rubbing softly. "I would hope not," he whispered, taking soft, teasing kisses, "but distance is cruel to lovers... and you are beautiful enough to kindle admiration in the coldest of hearts." He took a deep kiss, eating softly at Elrond's mouth, still rubbing at a growing erection. "You remember this when you're lonely. Remember this night... remember that you're mine."
"I will," Elrond whispered. "Every day I will remember you, and every night I will dream that I am with you, until I am again at your side and in your arms..." He pressed his lips more harshly to Gil-galad's, and his tongue moved more insistently. Slowly, his hands moved around to the king's hips, pulling the two of them closer together and making firmer Gil-galad's touch between his legs. "...and in your bed," he finished.
"Mmm, yes..." Gil-galad murmured, "speaking of bed..." He stood and began to move Elrond backwards, but just as he did a knock came at the door. "Come!" the king growled, displeasure obvious in his voice as he moved apart from his herald and faced the now-opening door.
His squire looked in, his face sheepish and apologetic. "Excuse me, sire - I know you gave orders not to be disturbed, but Lord Glorfindel is outside and would speak with you..." He trailed off and bowed his head as he slipped out of the door, looking very pleased to be gone.
With a sigh, Elrond pulled back from Gil-galad and walked, arms crossed over his chest, to the far side of the king's table. He sat on the edge and stared down at the floor.
A moment later Glorfindel appeared through the door. His eyes were drawn immediately to Elrond, seated, though he quickly looked to Gil-galad with a strange smile. "Well," he said, "I suppose one of my reasons for coming to speak with you has already been resolved." He glanced back toward Elrond. "I thought you were going to sleep."
Elrond looked away, at the windows, and said, "I just remembered something I had to tell Gil-galad."
"Yes, we have much to talk about," the king agreed, taking a step towards Glorfindel as if to usher him out of the room. "After all, Elrond will be in charge of this campaign - I must be sure he knows my wishes exactly. So don't fret about his welfare. I'll see he gets to bed soon enough."
"Of course," said Glorfindel. "I am sure getting him into bed is one of your top priorities. But, that is not why I came to see you."
The king took another quick step toward the golden haired Elf, eyes flashing. "Mind your tongue, lord," he hissed. "Now tell me your business and then be gone. I won't have you and your bitter words hounding me tonight."
Glorfindel glanced over at Elrond, then back to Gil-galad. "Might I speak with you alone?" he asked.
For a moment it seemed as though the king would refuse, but then, without taking his eyes off Glorfindel, he murmured, "Wait for me outside, Elrond. This shouldn't take long."
With a sigh, Elrond stood from the table and left the room, not looking at either of them, though Glorfindel watched him go. When he had closed the door behind him, Glorfindel turned back to Gil-galad. "He does not look too happy, does he?" Glorfindel asked.
"No, neither do I, I suppose," the king said tersely. "Neither one of us like being interrupted." He turned from Glorfindel and walked to large table, gazing at the maps strewn over it. "What was so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"
"Elrond's well-being, I would think," Glorfindel replied. He slowly walked to stand beside Gil-galad at the table before adding pointedly, "But, of course, that might only be *my* concern."
The king waited for a moment, just a heartbeat of time to try keeping his anger under control, but it didn't, couldn't hold. With one furious wave of his hand he swept the maps off the table and turned to Glorfindel, their faces only an inch apart. "I have had *enough* of your insulting, self-righteous remarks!" he hissed. "You have registered your disapproval of my relationship with Elrond. It has been noted. But the relationship is one that both of us desire and whether you approve or not it will continue. Given that, I have no more need for your disrespect of me and my position than I have for broken spears or lame horses. All are equally damaging to our cause. Have I made myself plain enough?"
Glorfindel took a quick step back but kept his eyes focused harshly on the king. "I would think so," he said. "And I do thank you for it, as it certainly makes my position all the easier now that I know how pleased you will surely be with what I am about to say. So you can rest assured that there will be no more as-you-say 'self-righteous remarks' from me, or remarks of any other variety. Indeed I suppose it is possible that you will not see me again after tomorrow. I am going with Elrond."
The king's expression turned bitter. "Of course you are," he said in a voice no louder than a whisper. "You never could let him do anything on his own, nor follow any orders other than those that came from yourself. What a perfect opportunity to worm your way into his confidence." Gil-galad raised his head just slightly, his grey eyes fixed on Glorfindel's face. "Now we shall see which is the stronger - his love for me... or your poisoned tongue."
Glorfindel let out a soft hiss of breath. "Very well." Then he quickly turned his back to Gil-galad and walked to the door, opening it for Elrond. "You may come back in now," he said to the younger Elf. "I believe Araníon has something to say."
"Ereinion," Elrond said quietly, but Glorfindel gave no reply.
"Glorfindel will be going with you tomorrow," Gil-galad said simply to Elrond. "He believes I don't have your best interests at heart and wishes to prove that he alone does. I'm sure he and his opinions will be your constant companions from this point on. Does this meet with your approval?"
Elrond looked to Gil-galad and then Glorfindel, frowning. "You... want to come with me?"
Glorfindel nodded.
"Why?" Elrond asked. "I mean, it is really not necessary."
"Perhaps not," said Glorfindel, "but still I would go."
"But you have work to do here. The accounts..."
"Erestor will take over my duties," Glorfindel interrupted. "I have already discussed it with him."
"But you don't own any armour," Elrond said, almost pleading. "Or even a sword."
"I can manage something."
Elrond sighed and shook his head. "I know why you are doing this," he said, "and do not think that it is not appreciated. But in truth I do not believe that you fully understand what it is that you are asking. This is a war, Glorfindel-"
"I am quite aware of the notion of war, Elrond," the blond Elf interrupted, a hint of annoyance rising in his voice.
"Then why..." Elrond silenced himself almost immediately and shook his head again. He looked down at the floor, then at Gil-galad. "You must say something..."
"You seem to be labouring," Gil-galad said in an icy tone, "under the misapprehension that Lord Glorfindel would deign to do what I told him to do. It appears, however, that he believes *you* to be the King, and will therefore serve only yourself. So it is no doubt for the best that he leave my kingdom and take his spite and disrespect elsewhere."
After a moment of uncertain silence Elrond shook his head. "I don't know why you two..." he muttered, then turned to Glorfindel. "If it is your wish, and the will of Gil-galad also, then I won't stop you from leaving with me tomorrow."
"It is *not* my will," Gil-galad said quietly but firmly, his eyes never moving from Glorfindel's, "but since this paragon of the Eldalië owns me neither as lord nor king there is nothing I can do to prevent his going with you, short of slaying him where he stands, and I have no intention of incurring the wrath of Aman for such a person."
So saying he walked to the window and stared out at the torchlights on the gulf. "Leave us, Glorfindel."
Glorfindel stood defiantly a moment before nodding to Elrond and leaving the room.
Continued in Part 2