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The Gift	By : mirasaui Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 9163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
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The Gift
by Mirasaui

Part 12: The Dark Side of the Moon
Glorfindel's mind was reeling after his conversation with Haldir. One moment they had been discussing Lindir and the next he was baring the very depths of his soul to the Marchwarden. What was it about the silver-haired elf that made him want to reveal his innermost secrets? Haldir could be cold, glacial. But when he let down his guard, Haldir was a totally different elf. Warm, caring, generous, aye, even loving, he was such an amalgam of personality. Glorfindel sighed, thinking of pudgy cheeks and warm hazel eyes. He knew he could not ask for a truer friend than Haldir.
Walking down the corridor, he mentally ran over his checklist. He had spoken with his second- in-command and been ensured that the security of Imladris was intact for one more night. He had checked in with Lord Elrond and Master Healer Anaran concerning Tebring's progress and had arranged with the kitchen for a dinner tray to be taken to Lindir's room. He had visited with the other three elves injured in the attack. He had checked on Garion and Tambor and finally, had given a copy of the revised duty schedule to Erestor. And now, he was trying to prepare himself for what he was sure would be another emotional confrontation. For if Haldir was correct about Lindir's feelings, Glorfindel knew he must speak candidly with the minstrel, and he was already emotionally drained from his conversation with the Marchwarden. But this was a matter he was not able to put off. He owed it to Lindir. He owed it to himself.
He arrived at Lindir's door just as one of the house staff was entering with a large serving tray. A quick glance showed that Haldir had worked his magic again as the Marchwarden and Lindir were relaxed on the bed in what seemed to be pleasant conversation. After giving his greetings and seeing Haldir to the door, Glorfindel dismissed the servant and walked over to the table to see what the kitchen had prepared.
He lifted the cover off one of the dishes on the tray. On a bed of greens, lay six roasted quail covered in a thin brown sauce and garnished with wild berries. The cooks had apparently done their best tonight. "Come, Lindir, I suggest we eat while the food is still warm."
Glorfindel watched as Lindir walked over to take his seat at the table. Something about the elf seemed different, but Glorfindel could not put his finger upon it. "Pour us each a glass of wine, Lindir, while I serve our plates. There is soup if you would care for that first?"
"Soup will be fine," Lindir replied, "but it is I who should be serving you, my lord." Glorfindel looked at the minstrel with amusement. "Just Glorfindel, Lindir, and as tonight I am here for you, I will do the honours." Lindir smiled. "Soup will be fine, then...Glorfindel."
The Elda laughed, and it seemed to break the tension, for Glorfindel could see Lindir's shoulders visibly relax. The warrior, now servitor, placed a bowl of clear soup in front of the minstrel and another one at his own place setting, then sat down to enjoy the repast.
There was silence for a few moments while the two settled themselves and tasted the first of the flavourful broth. Then Glorfindel broke the spell. "I wish I could give you better tidings of Tebring, Lindir," he said, watching the younger elf's face to see how he would react now that the painful subject was again broached. "Lord Elrond and Master Anaran will watch over him tonight, but they do not expect any complications. Unfortunately, the force of the blow shattered the bone and the damage to tendons, ligaments and veins was so severe, there was nothing left to save. Elrond told me it was a matter of lose the leg or lose Tebring's life, Lindir. I am sorry."
Glorfindel paused again to check Lindir's reaction before continuing. "I too, am fond of Tebring, and it saddens me that he must suffer so. He fought well. It took five of the men to bring him down. Garion tried to help. He just could not make it to Tebring's side in time to block the blow. If our reinforcements had not arrived when they did, the whole unit would have been lost. As it was, there were three others, Ryldor, Fyril, and Galelas who were also injured, albeit not as serious. I was able to talk with each of them tonight, and they will be fine with a few days of healing rest."
Expecting tears, Glorfindel was surprised to see Lindir's face twist in anger. "Scum of Arda are the descendants of Isildur, I curse his and their weakness. Did they not quest so for power and might, Tebring would be whole and hale and not facing an eternity of sorrow. In all our history, what harm have we sought them? Was it not our kin who died alongside Men at Barad-dûr? Do they forget so quickly? The ring may have been the bane of Isildur, but Men are the bane of the Firstborn. Lord Elrond should close the gates of Imladris to their kind!"
"Do you truly mean to condemn a whole race because of the actions of a few?" Glorfindel replied. "Surely, as one who heralds the history of the past, Lindir, you should realize the folly of your thoughts. I know you feel sorrow for Tebring, but you know as well as I the reason we fight, to bring peace to this land. Peace cannot be attained through hatred. Reserve your wrath for the demons of the dark, the ones who truly have no goodness inside. Even Isildur strove for the light, until darkness overwhelmed him. He was a great leader of Men before he succumbed to the power of The Ring. The bandits are the worst of their kind. Think of Beren, Tuor, do you condemn them? And our Lord Elrond, Masters Elladan and Elrohir, the blood of Men runs also in their veins."
"Forgive my outburst, my lord," Lindir replied somewhat curtly. "I apologize, if my words cause you pain, but I am entitled to my opinion. Aye, Tuor and Beren were the exception and I fault them not, neither my Lord Elrond nor his sons. For though their blood is tainted with that of Men, it is still in majority Elven, but for the rest of the race of Men, I have no love."
"You are right, Lindir, those are your views and I cannot deny you expressing them. Although, it does distress me to hear you speak of Lord Elrond and his sons as tainted. Where would you be if Elrond had not taken you in out of the goodness of his heart? Do you not feel you owe some allegiance to his name? I would hope your views stay within this room, and you do not express them so strongly in public. There are gossip mongers enough as it is."
"What has come over Lindir?" the Vanya wondered. His shy, gentle guardian was showing a side that Glorfindel had not seen since the day the white-haired elfling marched into Lord Elrond's office and demanded he be able to test his swordsmanship. Lindir's thoughts bordered on the verge of madness, revenge was one matter, but harbouring hate could only lead to trouble. Glorfindel would have to find a way to temper Lindir's feelings.
Lindir, on the other hand was torn. He was not ashamed of his words. Humans were behind the cause of all his misery and he felt a deep hatred inside whenever he thought of them. It had been dredged up again since the skirmish and Tebring's injury, and he could no more have controlled his outburst than he could keep the sun from rising each morn. But he had upset Glorfindel, and that did not bode well for the plans he had tonight. For as Haldir had advised, he needed to tell the seneschal of the feelings he held in his heart. He needed to declare his love for the golden Lord. To have Glorfindel alone for a whole night was the opportunity of a lifetime. He had to get a grip on his feelings and bury his murderous thoughts. But once out, they were hard to push down. Men! He thought back to the one day he would never in a lifetime forget.
- In the Forest Miles Outside of Rivendell
They had broken camp early that morning, and his Adar (1) had told him they would be visiting a village soon to replenish supplies. Lindir was beside himself with excitement. With the type of life they led, on the road most of the time, excursions into permanent settlements were few and far between. It was not that he did not appreciate his life, it is just there was so much to see in the towns. Things his family had no use for, exotic and enticing, new sights, new smells.
They rode in silence for the most part, for the music of the woods was such that even the lyrical speech of the elves would have spoiled the moment. Birds sang as they basked in the sunshine that entered through the canopy of the tall trees. Squirrels and chipmunks chattered and scampered through the branches, bearing nuts in their bulging cheeks to feed their young. Dozens of different types of insects sang mating songs or piped a warning at the travellers who moved slowly along the Great Road. It was spring and the forest was in bloom. Delicate green leaves bright against dark trunks, colourful spring blooms of myriad wildflowers, merry brooks swollen from mountain drain-off, all sang of new growth and a new season.
Lindir had seen many such sights from his perch atop his adar's horse, for it would be some years yet before he would be allowed to ride his own. But he did not mind. It was comfortable atop the great roan and his father's arms kept him safe and warm. The plod of the beast's sure- footed hooves against the leafy path was as a lullaby to his ears, lulling him to sleep, though he fought against it, determined not to miss a thing on this day of all days. For it was his begetting day, and though theirs was a simple life, his parents would make sure today was special. This was most likely the reason for the stop in the town.
His naneth (2) rode along side of Lindir on her favourite white mare, laughing at her little elfling who tried so hard to stay alert. The family had travelled long the day before and had made camp late last night. So Lindir had less sleep than normal. A nap would be good for him and though he fought it, she knew he would soon succumb. Sure enough, not a few moments passed, before his body slumped back against his father's broad chest. Lindir was deep in reverie, dreaming the sweet dreams of youth.
Lindir had not slept long, when he felt his adar tense and heard his naneth gasp. A bearded man with reddish curly hair jumped down from a tree right in front of his father's horse. As Lindir's awareness returned, he heard the man boldly ask, "What business have you in these woods?"
"Mae Govannen (3), stranger," Lindir's father spoke. "I was not aware it was a crime to travel through these woods. The last I heard this was still a public road. But our business is no secret. We are wanderers, travelling minstrels. We go to the next town to replenish our supplies. We mean no harm, and do not intend to tarry long in this location."
"It is rare for your kind to pass this way," the man replied. "My friends and I find you fair of face, and wish to know more about your race." As he spoke these words, more men pushed through the trees till their party was completely surrounded by approximately twenty armed warriors, though their armour bore no familiar markings.
Lindir felt his adar's hand move to the hilt of his sword, and he shivered. "Ada, (4) who...?" he began to ask, but his father shushed him in a stern voice, and clasped his arm tighter around Lindir's waist.
"Your packs are full, my friends." The man replied. "I am sure what small amount of supplies you need, we could provide. Perhaps you would care to barter with us. We would ask naught but a little, you would not even have to part with your coin. A few moments with your fair lady, would grant you a water skin and a sack of flour." The man laughed at his joke, revealing a set of brown, stained teeth that looked as if they had never been cleaned. Several of the other men laughed and made rude gestures. Lindir felt fear radiate from his adar's body, though his father still sat straight and tall and answered the man with a voice that did not tremble.
"Touch her and you die. I may not be able to take all of you, but I can guarantee many of you will not see the setting sun. Let us go peacefully. If it is coin you wish, we will give you what we have. There is no need for any of us to harm the other."
"There is wisdom in your words, elf," the man spat, "but I see only one warrior against twenty. Surely, we may have what we wish and your coin as well. We have been in these woods for a long time and are in need of manly comfort." He looked at his men and they leered at the tall minstrel, and not a few rude remarks were spoken under their breaths. The red-haired man cocked his head and reached up to finger the minstrel's blond hair. The elf stiffened, and pulled away, but stayed silent. The man did not turn loose of the elf's locks as he spoke once more. "Perhaps we will take of your self, for it would not be too hard to imagine a woman underneath that long, silky hair."
The next moments were ones of chaos, as the man made a movement with one arm, and grasped the minstrel by the back of the neck with the other. The warriors surged forward. Lindir's naneth was pulled from her horse at the same time others grabbed for him and his adar. He found himself clasped in the strong arms of a man and could only watch helplessly as his father managed to free himself long enough to draw his sword and enter into battle against at least ten of the evil warriors. He could not see his naneth, but heard her screams of terror. His adar heard them also, and the desperate look on his face as he fought for his life, tore at Lindir's heart. The elf killed at least six of the mortal warriors, but was tiring fast.
A scream left Lindir's throat as a blow to the arm loosened his father's grip on his weapon, sending it clattering to the ground. The screams did not stop as the red-haired leader of the men plunged the tip of his sword straight into his heart, spilling his life blood. Lindir could only watch as his adar fell to the ground and lay still.
But the worst was to come. Lindir's naneth still lived. She was dragged forth and shown the lifeless body of her mate. Lindir struggled to free himself from the fetid man who held him, but the man's grip was too strong. At least ten men took his naneth as she lay next to her fallen mate, took her until she too lay broken and bleeding on the forest floor, all light gone from her eyes. And Lindir was forced to watch. His cries of "Adar, Naneth," went unheard. His prayers to the Valar were not answered. When all was still, he was brought forth before the leader of the men, who would be the one to decide his fate.
"Give him a shovel", the man said cruelly. "Let him dig his parents' grave." The men made bets as to how long it would take him. Skins of wine were passed around, and the more the men drank the more evil they became. When three of the men mentioned that the young elf was sweating heavily and they might lose their bet, Lindir was stopped from his task, his clothes pulled from his body and water poured over him. Dirty fingers touched him all over, fondling even his most private parts, before he was pushed back to finish his grisly duty. But he persevered, if only that his life might last a little longer, or the unknown fate to which he would be subjected put off for a while.
After what seemed like days, Lindir managed to dig a long trench deep enough to hold the lifeless bodies of his parents. He was allowed to kiss each one, before four of the men callously dragged his naneth and his adar to the trench and threw them carelessly into the freshly dug hole. Tears streaming down his cheeks, Lindir was forced to shovel dirt over their limp bodies. It was to be his last glimpse of the two elves most dear to his heart.
When the last shovel full of earth had been cast, the red-haired warrior moved forward and grabbed a handful of Lindir's hair near the back of his neck.
"If you care for them so much, you can be their guardian." He said with a sneer.
He pulled Lindir down onto his back and drew a dagger from the waistband of his trousers. The young elf cringed, knowing this breath would most likely be his last, but in a motion quicker than that of a striking snake, the man grabbed Lindir's feet and cut a deep slash in both, knowing it would limit his movement. Whimpering in shock and pain, Lindir watched as dark red blood began to immediately well from the cuts, sinking into the freshly dug earth of his parent's grave.
"Take their horses, we leave immediately." The red-haired warrior yelled to his men. Looking at the elfling still lying in pain on the ground, he emitted a rude curse, and murmured to four of the grinning warriors at his side. "Young and tender as he is, he will not last long without food or water. I would take him with us, for his body could be put to use, but we have not the time, and he would only slow us down." Moving over to his horse, he mounted quickly, raised his sword into the air and shouted so that all could hear. "Mount up, men, we ride forth, now." And with that, the men cantered off through the woods, leaving Lindir naked on the ground, with nothing left but a grieving heart.
How long he lay face down atop the fresh earthy mound, crying until no more tears would come, he knew not. It could have been hours, it could have been days. The sun was low in the sky when he realized he was dying of thirst. He had to find water or he knew he would perish. Rising painfully to his feet, he began limping back towards the road. His only hope lay in finding a small creek or water hole. And there is where his recollection stopped. Half crazed with pain and grief, the young elf's mind went blank; only instinct drove him forward. How he managed to reach the outskirts of the borders of Imladris, only the Valar knew. But it was there he was found, lying semi-conscious at the base of a tree, emaciated from lack of food and dehydrated from lack of water.
All Lindir remembered of his rescue was a pair of kind blue eyes and a gentle voice murmuring soft words of comfort, as strong arms lifted him onto the back of a horse and cradled him to his chest. His last vision before he completely lost consciousness was of golden hair shining in the sun. He learned later the name of his benefactor. The second-in-command of Imladris had been checking the borders that day. It was Lord Glorfindel who had found the waif, and brought him back to what would become his new home.
He had never told his story, the details of how his parents died. He wished no one to know of their shame, nor his. So when asked, he said only that his parents had been killed. That he had been away from the camp and returned to find their bodies. Most assumed he meant Orcs, and he did not tell them different. But it had not been Orcs but Men, and he would never forgive them for what they did. And he would never forget.
Lindir came back to the present with a start. Glorfindel was looking at him as if expecting a response and it took the younger elf a moment to remember the last words that the warrior had spoken.
"I apologize, Glorfindel, for my heated words. I have other reasons to dislike the race, but what I said about Lord Elrond and his sons was unfair. I do hold them in great esteem, and owe Lord Elrond such debt that I will never be able to repay it. He has treated me more than fair and in my anger, I said words that I now regret. Please forgive my rudeness. You are here at my request and I have treated you abominably."
Lindir was nothing but honest. He truly did regret his words, and hoped the Vanya would accept his apology. He knew that Glorfindel was a compassionate elf and wished with all his heart that he could feel the same. But men had violently hurt and taken away those he loved, and he could not see his way to feel differently about them.
"Your apology is accepted Lindir. I have no wish to fight with you. We all speak words in anger that we regret. Here, let me clear away your soup bowl and I will serve the entree. Refill our wineglasses, and let us find a topic more pleasing to talk about while we enjoy the rest of our meal." Glorfindel rose from his chair and removed the bowls, putting them back on the tray. In addition to the quail, there were steamed vegetables that had come from the gardens of Imladris and roasted tubers dripping with fresh butter. He served them each a plate and sat back down. Lifting his wineglass and taking a few sips, he leaned back and took a closer look at his companion.
Lindir was wearing a beautiful blue tunic that seemed to turn his eyes the colour of the deep waters of the ocean. They were startlingly dark in comparison to his pale face and Glorfindel of a sudden was drawn to them like a magnet. Lindir was beautiful. His face tonight was somehow softer, yet more masculine. It took him a while to figure out the change, but he finally realized that Lindir was not wearing his traditional warrior's braids. His long white hair was pulled forward on his face, covering the pointed ears, and accentuating his high cheekbones. The paleness of his hair and face drew out the blue of his eyes and the rosy pink of his cheeks and lips. He reminded the seneschal of one of the marble statues that Elrond had commissioned and which graced the lovely gardens of the Elven city.
And this elf felt love for him. Ah, but he was tempting. Glorfindel felt a longing to taste of the pink lips and caress the soft skin, but he knew it could not be. Lindir wanted more than just a night of pleasure, and that the ancient warrior could not give him. It was a shame, for Lindir was truly a prize worth having. He hoped that one day, the minstrel would fall for someone who would make him happy, and value him for the jewel that he was.
"So, Lindir, how are you doing in your musical studies?" Glorfindel asked, trying to change the nature of his thoughts. "Lord Findal considers you one of his prized pupils. I daresay Haldir is impressed. Did you realize that he also plays the harp? Not many are aware of his skill, but it is one of his passions. Of course, he does not have talent as fine as yours, but he has written a few pieces of his own. You may wish to ask him to play for you one day."
"That does surprise me," Lindir replied. "I know he has a fine voice for we sang together, but I did not know that he played. I would truly like to hear him. Perhaps I will bring it up before he leaves Imladris. He has many talents of which I was not aware, it seems."
"You would be surprised, mellonen," (5) Glorfindel chuckled. "Haldir amazes me and I have known him for millennia! Most people do misjudge him. I will not say he is all bark and no bite, for when riled, he has a ferocious temper, just ask his brothers. But he is a good elf. Lothlórien is proud of him."
During the lulls and bouts of conversation, both elves had finished the main course and Glorfindel had cleared the table and served dessert. The empty dessert plates still sat in front of them as they enjoyed a glass of a light sweet wine. A comfortable silence had grown between the two, and was finally broken when the Elda stretched and leaned forward to remove the last of the dishes from the table. "If you are finished, Lindir, I will put all this aside." At a nod from the minstrel, Glorfindel removed the last remnants of the meal and set the serving tray aside. Then he stood and stretched again.
"I suggest we move to more comfortable seating," the Elda suggested. The night is cool, perhaps you would like to sit on the balcony for a while, look at the stars? Or perhaps, you would care to walk with me in the garden?"
"I think I would prefer the walk," Lindir said with a smile. "It is so beautiful tonight, and I feel at peace underneath the stars. Give me a moment to get my cloak and I will join you."
"What better chance have I to tell the seneschal of my love," Lindir thought, "and what better place than underneath the star-kissed sky. It is now or never. And no matter what his response, after this night my life will change forever."
Saying a prayer to the Valar to grant his wish of all wishes, Lindir followed his love out of the room and down the hall, wondering what the rest of the night would hold.

Notes:
1. adar - father
2. naneth - mother
3. Ada - endearment for Father - Dad, Daddy
4. Mae govannen - Well met
5. mellonen - my friend
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The Gift