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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
- 23
- 24
- 25
The Gift
by Mirasaui

"Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne..."

J.R.R. Tolkien

Part 24: All for the Sake of Revenge
-The Prisoner
He was not uncomfortable, for they had removed the ropes binding his ankles and wrists. In fact, he had free reign of the cell, the small space that was now his temporary home. There was a mattress for sleeping that was not too lumpy and the floor was clean swept, not damp and dank like those of the dungeons in Gondor. Even the food was palatable, for the tray they left for him had been laden with fresh fruit, warm bread and a bowl of thick soup. But that was the way of Elves, he thought bitterly. He had been well cared for when he lived in Lothlórien, provided with a warm bed, an abundance of food, education and training. But there was no warmth in the eyes of his kin, nor kindness in their words, at least not for him. He hated all elves, but mostly he hated the fair-haired Silvans, those like the Marchwarden.
Oh, he knew Haldir o Lórien. The arrogant Elf epitomized those of his kind. Haldir too, was an orphan but Haldir and his brothers were favored by the Lord and Lady, treated above their station. The Half-elf knew, for he once held Haldir's younger brother in high regard. Rúmil had been one of the few that regarded him kindly, overlooked his background. It was Rúmil who persuaded the other elflings to let him join in play, taking up for him when he was shunned or bullied. He had trusted Rúmil, confided in him, considered him a friend. When he reached his majority, his feelings for Rúmil changed from friendship to adulation, for Rúmil was all he could ever hope to be.
Not long after, he decided to tell Rúmil of his devotion. He waylaid his friend after archery practice and suggested a walk in the woods. Rúmil had looked at him oddly, but smiled and agreed. As they walked, he had poured his heart out to the beautiful elf, hoping against hope that Rúmil felt the same about him. But Rúmil had not. Rúmil had been kind and sympathetic, but it was the conversation he heard later that made him hate the elf. The conversation Rúmil had with his older brother, Haldir. He could still remember every detail.
He was on his way to the river to bathe when he heard a familiar voice in conversation with another. Curious, he moved silently to the arbour wherein the two stood and hid behind an overgrown shrub.
"You are too young to enter into a relationship, Rúmil," Haldir frowned at his younger brother. "Who is this Elf of which you speak? Is he apprenticed? What of his family?"
"Rúmil laughed. "Do not fret so, Haldir, I did not return his advances. Vand is not an Elf. He is peredhel, one of the orphans that used to join my friends and I sometimes in our games. The others would make fun of him but you taught me not to judge, so I tried to treat him kindly."
"That was considerate of you, Rúmil," Haldir replied, I am pleased that you spared his feelings, but there is a limit to what one should do out of pity for another. That you encouraged him enough to confess his ardour, worries. Are you in love with this Vand Half-elven?"
"Honestly Haldir, I do not seek him as a lover!" Rúmil exclaimed, his exasperation with his older brother rising to the surface. He sighed and continued in a softer voice. "Haldir, I barely know him. He was different in manner than most of my friends, perhaps due to his heritage, but we were young and did not understand such. All we knew was he was trouble, for he called our games childish and dared us to do that which was dangerous. If we did not, he would take our possessions and destroy them out of spite. He used coarse language and often had the sickness of Men, a drippy nose and cough. During Rhîw (1) he dressed in so many layers of clothing, he looked three times larger than he was. Yet, he was kind to me, so I could not fault him as the others. Occasionally, he would confide in me and ask why he was so shunned. I had no answer, Haldir, and could only commiserate. As we matured, he kept to himself or ran with those of older years.
Haldir, I did nothing to warrant his feelings. His words and actions took me completely by surprise. It has been long since we interacted. In truth, there is that about him which unnerves, frightens.
"Stay away from him, Rúmil. If what you say is true, he has problems that he must work out before he can have a satisfactory relationship. You are too young to concern yourself with love. If he bothers you again, I will speak to him."
It was then the tears started, the hurt, the rage. He ran sobbing from his place of hiding. All Vand wished was to run as far as he could from the elf that broke his heart. Rúmil was no different than the others. Worse, for Rúmil had pretended to be his friend then scorned him behind his back. Rúmil's brother was no better. Who was Haldir to judge him? An elf he had never met. He seethed with the injustice.
Rúmil had been the only reason he stayed in this hateful city and now that he had seen Rúmil's true character, he would not stay a moment longer. He would leave tonight. If he could not find solace in the world of Elves, he would seek it in his father's world, in Gondor, the kingdom of the south.
-Gondor
It had been a long road and he went through much misery at first. But soon he discovered that Men had a taste for that which was rare and beautiful, and Elves were among that which met those requirements. He sought relationships then not for love but for gain and he learned much about the Secondborn. He held secrets of which most Men were not aware. Secrets that if revealed, would give him all he ever wanted. Secrets that would hurt the ones who had caused him such grief and it was with this knowledge that he began to formulate his plan.
"...In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."(2)
Vand knew the story well. How Sauron came to forge the One Ring, the Ring that controlled all others. Able to change his shape, the Maiar journeyed to Eregion and came amongst the Elves in fair disguise. He called himself Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, and he led the Elves to believe that with his help they could make their new home almost to the like of the one they had forsaken. But in Lindon, the High King Gil-galad and Master Elrond did not trust Annatar and they sent warning of him to their kin. Annatar negated the warning, saying they were jealous and did not wish for Eregion to become as beautiful and fair as Lindon and the Eregion Elves heeded his word and ignored the warning.
Ost-in-Edhil was the home of Gwaith-i-Mírdain, the People of the Jewel-smiths. It was they who were most enamored of the Lord of Gifts. And he taught them much, for he was once a student of Aulë, the great smith. With his help, they crafted many Rings of great power. Rings they believed would be used to nurture and care for the land and its people. They trusted Annatar and as they learned from him, so he learned also from them. But later, he left Eregion and returned to Mordor and using all that he had learned, secretly forged a Ring of his own, one with power to rule the others. It was forged in the fires of Orodruin, known later as Mount Doom. Only in its fire could the Ring ever be unmade. Alas, when he placed it upon his finger the Elves felt its force and were aware of what he had done. They knew then he could control them and they were wise and did not wear the rings they had made.
His plans thwarted, Sauron demanded the Elves give him the rings they still had, claiming it was his hand that figured most in their making. When the Elves refused, he gathered his forces and waged war against them. But among the smiths of Ost-in-Edhil was one who surpassed all others, Celebrimbor, grandson of Fëanor. It was he who had crafted the last three of the Rings of Power; those not touched by Sauron's hand. These Rings the Elves hid, for they could slow the decay of time and although they could not be used while Sauron held the One, the Elves did not wish him to have them. Vilya, the Ring of Air and Narya, the Ring of Fire, Celebrimbor gave to High King Gil-galad, Nenya, the Ring of Water, to Lady Galadriel. It was these rings Sauron wanted most of all, for besides his own, they were the most powerful.
Dark times reigned and there was constant battle between Sauron and the Elves. Eregion was destroyed and Celebrimbor killed. Elrond Half-elven built a refuge hidden among cliffs, Imladris, a safe haven not only for Elves, but also for all the free peoples of Arda. Though, it was mostly Elves that fled there.
Through trickery, deceit and might, Sauron was able to obtain almost all of the Rings except the three he wanted most. Any intention of good he once harbored in his heart became lost in his quest for power. To that end, he gave Elven-rings to the other races that peopled Middle Earth, seven to the Dwarf-lords and nine to the Kings of Men. Because he had a hand in their making, he was able to control those that wielded the Rings so they and those under them turned to the darkness.
The Dwarves, who were brought into being by the Vala Aulë, had Aulë's protection and could not be mastered. But the rings fed their greed and in their lust for treasure they amassed huge mounds of jewels and riches under which they placed their Rings. Later, the mounds fell to the great dragons, the rings either consumed by dragon fire or seized once again by Sauron.
Of the Kings of Men, six Rings were given to kings on Arda. They were weak and came swiftly under Sauron's influence, strengthening his powers and puissance. The other three he gave to Kings of the Edain. Yet, Sauron was not satisfied. His goal was to rule all and for this he needed to defeat not only the free peoples, but also the Valar. He renamed himself Lord of the Earth and together with his fell minions set upon the good peoples of Middle Earth and they feared him and called him the Dark Lord.
Outside of Arda, in Númenor, dwelt the Edain, those whom lesser Men had once called Gods. They were friends of the Elves and had aligned with Gil-galad in the fight against the darkness. It was they, who in the past were the only one of their kindred to fight on the side of the Valar and the Elves against the evil of Morgoth, he who had once been Sauron's master.
For this, the Valar gave them many gifts: long life, prosperity and a home separate from Arda unto which only Valinor was fairer. But upon acceptance of these gifts, there was one condition. That the Númenóreans would not venture westwards toward Aman. From that place they were banned and long did the Edain honor that condition. Any exploration they undertook was ever away from the West.
In all ways they prospered and grew and when they saw the destruction that Sauron had wrought on Arda, they challenged him and he knew he was not strong enough to defeat them. So, he surrendered and lived as a hostage among them. But this, too, was part of his plan. After a while, he gained the ear of the King, became his advisor. Little by little, he began to sow seeds of discontent, questioning the Valar and their gifts. The Númenóreans listened and became jealous of the Elves and those who granted such gifts, believing their kind, too, should be privy to Valinor. Then they cursed the Valar and Sauron fed their anger and disquiet until finally, they joined him in an attack upon the Undying Lands.
But that was their downfall and his, for in retaliation the Valar decimated Númenor and Sauron was caught in the chaos, his body destroyed. Yet, his spirit arose and returned to Arda, to the land of Mordor.
In the Dark lord's absence, Gil-galad had increased his hold over much of the land where Sauron once held sway. Those Númenóreans who had remained faithful to the Valar and were able to escape the destruction of their kin fled in exile to Arda. Their leader was Elendil and together with his two sons, Isildur and Anárion, he established the realms of Arnor and Gondor.
Centuries passed. The nine Kings of Men to whom Sauron had given Rings faded and became wraiths, lost in a shadow world, specters that had no choice but to do as Sauron bid. Nazgûl they were named, Ringwraiths, harbingers of doom. Sauron once again called fell and foul together and gathered a great force. With this army and the Nazgûl under his control, he attacked Minas Ithil in Gondor, the city governed by Isildur. Isildur escaped and sought his father, Elendil. Anárion in Osgiliath held forth against Sauron for a while, but Sauron increased his strength and Anárion feared without help his kingdom would be taken.
Neither the Eldar nor the Dúnedain could withstand the might of Sauron alone. In a desperate move, Elendil and Gil-galad met and formed a host of Elves and Men known thereafter as the Last Alliance. After much trial the Alliance met the forces of Sauron on Dagorlad, the plain before the gates of Mordor. There they fought a great battle in which the Elves and Men were victorious and so they pressed on to Barad-dûr, Sauron's great fortress. There they laid siege against him for seven years.
During this time Anárion and many others fair and brave were killed. Finally, the siege forced Sauron's hand and he came out himself upon the field. Gil-galad and Elendil fell by his hand. Then Isildur, grasping his father's broken sword, smote the One Ring from Sauron's hand and Sauron was destroyed. Or so many thought, for though weak, his spirit survived and hid.
Sometime before or during the War of the Last Alliance, the Elven King Gil-galad gave the Ring Vilya to Lord Elrond. Of the third Ring nothing was known, it was either given to another or it passed from knowledge, of which occurrence, Vand was not sure.(3)
But all this was a secret known only to the Elves. For the One Ring, that which controlled the others, Isildur kept for himself in spite of the plea by Lord Elrond and others that it be destroyed. And it became his bane, for he was ambushed by Orcs at Gladden Field. In an effort to save himself, he placed the Ring upon his finger and became invisible. He jumped into the river hoping to swim away, but The One Ring slipped from his hand and fell into the water and was lost. Isildur was revealed and shot dead.
-Centuries Later
When Vand arrived in Gondor from Lórien, the ravages of the Great War were still vastly evident. There was a shortage of food and supplies and people were hungry. Many were without homes. Of the Men who had left to fight, countless had not returned and never would, for they had died defending the freedom of their loved ones. Sauron had left his mark upon the land and it would be centuries upon centuries before it was erased.
Vand bade his time and worked on his plans of revenge. Certain men, he befriended and once he had earned their trust, he began to confide to them that which hardened their hearts against the Elves. For the Secondborn were unaware of the Rings of Power created by the Elves, and Vand played this hand for all it was worth. From his lips, he let known to a select group the mistake the Elves had made in trusting Annatar. When they realized that but for the Elves, war could have been averted, they became enraged and wanted nothing more than revenge. All the hardship, all the loss of life and limb they blamed, with what they felt was righteous cause, on the Firstborn. In fact, it was all Vand could do to keep them from marching immediately against the Elves. It took all his knowledge and strength to make them bide their time and in that time Vand taught them Elven ways and Elven fighting techniques. They strategized and formulated a battle plan, which was to first take Imladris. From there they could effectively attack both Lothlórien and Greenwood the Great. Their goal was to eliminate the Elves forever, to sweep them from Arda.
"And but for one Balrog Slayer--by the horn, it would have worked!" Vand swore to himself as he paced back and forth in his cell. But he was not worried, for he had learned much during his stay in the city of Men. The Elves were soft and loath to kill one of their kind, even one who was only Half-elven. He need only wait and plan his escape. That it would be successful, he had no doubt. So until that opportunity came, he made himself as comfortable as he could. Let the Elves of Imladris believe he was mad, perhaps he was. But for the moment, he was content.
-The Market - Imladris
The Market as usual was bustling. They had sampled wares and seen and touched many lovely creations, but neither had yet to make a purchase. Haldir had paid special attention to the potter's booth, but he did not see the dark-haired Elf from his last visit. Instead another was seated at the potter's wheel and he was not nearly as interesting or seductive. Haldir thought Lindir might notice his furtive looks, but Lindir's thoughts seemed far away. The Elf had been melancholy and quiet ever since they left the dining hall. But when asked what troubled him, Lindir denied such frame of mind, saying he was fine.
They had once again reached that place in the market where the farriers and smiths plied their trade. The sound of the many varied hammers striking against metal was deafening. They watched as a smith pulled a glowing bar of iron from the flames. He placed it against an anvil and in rhythmic strokes began to shape the metal with his great hammer. The white-hot iron threw off sparks as the bar began to expand under the hammer strokes. When the smith had obtained the shape he wanted, he heated the iron again until it glowed with yellow fire then quickly quenched it in a bucket of oil. The heated metal sang as it met the cool liquid.
They left the smith to his work and continued their perusal of the market. Farther down were the jewel-smiths that worked with precious metals. Haldir watched entranced as a Dwarf with a braided beard carefully set a large, blue stone into a silver setting. With a long smooth tool, he shaped a thin piece of metal around the sides of the stone, pressing the bezel down until it just touched the surface of the stone and held the gem in tightly. The pressure of the tool compressed the metal and burnished it to a lovely sheen. Other pieces of crafted silver were set out on a cloth of velvet on a shelf next to the Dwarf. There was one in the shape of a Mallorn leaf that Haldir greatly admired, but when he asked the price, it was much more than he was willing to pay. Nodding to the jewel-smith, they made their way to the next booth.
This one was larger and contained three Elves who were immersed in their work. One stood in front of a brick oven and was placing items that appeared to be covered with colored powder into its interior. Each piece rested on points that projected upwards from ceramic trivets. Another Elf stood at a large washtub on a stand. In the center of the tub was a metal arm attached to a shaft. At the end of the arm was an odd shaped porcelain bowl with a hole in its front. Attached to the bowl, centered with the hole, was a cylindrical container filled with plaster. The jeweler was heating nuggets of a dull gray colored metal in the bowl with a hot flame. When the nuggets melted, they formed a shiny rolling liquid with a mirrored convex surface. While they watched, the jewel-smith released a pin that was holding the arm in place. The arm spun inside the tub, the motion causing the molten metal to draw into the cylinder. When the motion stopped, the smith used a pair of iron tongs to remove the cylinder, dumping it into a vat of water.
They continued to watch as the smith removed a similar cylinder from another bucket of water. With a metal rod, he began scraping what was left of the plaster from the container. Revealed, was a miniature tree of dull metal with odd shaped leaves. He cut the leaves from the branches of the tree and tossed the trunk into a box. Noticing his audience, he smiled and brought one of the leaves over for them to inspect. It was not a leaf, but a ring. At the base of the ring was a small nub, where he had cut it from the stem. Haldir asked why so much metal was wasted. The smith laughed.
"It is never wasted, my friend. It can be melted and used again. This dull metal is silver, but I would use the same procedure working with gold or mithril. The tree form is used to make channels in the mold which allows the metal to flow. He picked up a tree that was made of wax. We carve the items we wish to make out of wax. To each wax trunk, we attach a wax branch at the end of which we secure what we wish to cast. Notice how all the branches point upwards. That is because metal cannot flow backwards. The very base of the trunk was cone-shaped.
"We attach the cone of the wax tree to a flat base. Then we place a hollow cylinder over it, making sure the tree is centered. The cylinder is filled with plaster, allowed to harden, then the flat base is removed and we bake the cylinder in the kiln. The heat vaporizes the wax, leaving the shape of the tree in the plaster. The cooled cylinder, we place next to the crucible on the shaft, lining the cone-shaped depression with the hole in the crucible. When the arm is released, molten metal flows from the crucible into the mold, up the trunk through the branches into the leaves. Of course, they are just empty channels as the wax is gone. That is how we cast items of metal.
Lindir had been looking at the jewelry on display when a certain piece caught his eye. He pointed it out to the jeweller who placed it in his hand. When Haldir saw what he had found, he smiled. "It is perfect, Lindir."
"Oh, Haldir, I have found my gift for Glorfindel. Let us hope it is not too expensive"
He looked to the jewel-smith who smiled. They haggled back and forth over the price but soon coin was exchanged. The jeweler placed the piece in a lined box and Lindir put it in his pocket. Out of curiosity, he asked the jewelsmith which of them had made the piece. The smith laughed. "I cast the piece, good sir. My partner at the kiln decorated it with enamel and fired it to hardness. My other partner, whom you have not met, engraved the design. We all three had a part in its making.
"Fascinating." Lindir replied. "This is a special gift and its recipient shall treasure it greatly, at least that is my hope."
"That is my goal," The jeweler replied with a smile, "When it is met, I am happy. Enjoy the rest of your time at the market."
"You can be assured that I shall," Lindir replied.
Lindir was in a better mood when they left the jeweler's stall. Haldir was glad, for he had begun to worry about his friend. Lindir had been moody and remote during most of their time here and Haldir was please to now see a smile upon his face.
"You have not found your gift yet, Haldir," Lindir told the Marchwarden. "Is there some place special you would care to look?"
"Hmm," Haldir replied, a finger to his chin. I have a few ideas but am unable to make up my mind. I shall think on them the night and return here tomorrow. Do you wish to stay longer or are you ready to leave?"
"That is up to you, Haldir. I have found Glorfindel's gift. You make the decision."
"Let us head back to the entrance, perhaps I shall find what I seek on the way."
"That suits me fine, Haldir," Lindir replied. So they turned around and started to walk slowly back towards the market entrance. Lindir was quiet, but he did reply to Haldir's conversation. They spoke mostly of the items on display and were content to stroll lazily for there was no particular reason to hurry. Something caught Haldir's eye at a very busy stall and he excused himself from Lindir's company to look further. Lindir smiled but did not follow Haldir, instead walked a few steps to a stand displaying fresh flowers. He bent to sniff a bouquet when he overheard two Elves' gossipy discourse.
"Aye, Ganadir, I heard he resigned because of the minstrel, Lindir. I do not understand what he sees in the elf. He has a lovely voice, but is so shy, scared of his own shadow. Not an elf to who I thought Glorfindel would be attracted."
The speaker emitted a derisive laugh and his partner in conversation replied.
"From what I have heard, Lindir was a problem when he first came here. He was traumatized, mute and could not remember the circumstance that placed him in that condition. They kept him in the healing house for almost a season. When he recovered, Lord Erestor assigned him work in the stable. But Lord Gildor claimed Lindir was his nephew, so he was taken into Elrond's house, treated as a foster son. But Lindir did not care for his uncle. He refused to accept his heritage and title. Refused Lord Gildor, the audacity of the elf! Thought him self above the wandering elves, I suppose. Lord Elrond granted his wish to stay in Imladris. Perhaps, Lindir believed it more worth his while to stay. After all, it is no small honour to be favoured by Elrond. But that is not all. His voice may be lovely but he refused to join the Harper's Guild, instead demanded to live in the manor. A nervy one if you ask me, with delusions of grandeur!"
"He is a mouse. Glorfindel is a fool to pine over such an elf. But you know what they say about the silent ones. Perhaps, he pleases the lord in bed. What else has he to offer?"
It took all Lindir had to stay where he was, although he pressed deeper into the crowd so the speakers could not see him. Some of what they said was not true but much of it hit home. Was he really as selfish as they claimed? He *had* refused Lord Gildor's offer and refused to join the Harper's Guild. He had run away when he did not get what he wanted. Ai, the Elves were right, he was a mouse, not a good match for Glorfindel at all. He was living a lie and he was ashamed.
"I found what I sought, Lindir." Haldir said from behind him. "If you are ready, let us go."
Lindir turned and looked sadly at Haldir, at his hazel eyes so thoughtful and kind. "Haldir, I am appreciative of all you have done for me these past few days, but there are only a few more left before you return to Lothlórien. I have monopolized your time, placed my happiness before yours. I feel guilty for treating you this way. If there is something you care to do, tell me. Do not feel pressured that you have to spend your time here with me."
"And what brought this on, Lindir?" Haldir replied, "Have confidence in yourself. I enjoy your company. If you knew me better, you would know that I usually do what pleases me and right now it pleases me to be here with you." At this, the Marchwarden grasped Lindir by the shoulders and looked straight into Lindir's blue eyes.
"To be candid, Lindir, you have qualities of which you are obviously not aware. You are breathtakingly beautiful and do not look at the ground when I tell you that. You may not notice, but eyes follow you when you walk. Many appreciative glances come your way but you never notice, because you do not care to see. You have nothing to be ashamed of, mellonen (4). Cast aside your shyness. You are an intelligent conversationalist, a good listener and a skilled warrior. Look at yourself in the same light as others see you.
"Do not underestimate Lords Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel. They each chose you as someone they could trust to work with. They are some of the most respected Elves on Arda. Erestor obviously values your work and you know Glorfindel does! Do not take his love lightly, for he has chosen you above all others. Whether you realize it or not, you are the envy of many for that choice. Garion, Tambor, and Tebring think the world of you and while you may deny it, you are one of the most talented musicians in Imladris. Did you believe your name was not known also in Lothlórien? All there appreciate your skill.
"You have many qualities of which you can be proud. Do not think yourself inferior, Lindir, for you are far from that. Cherish the good; do not dwell on your past. Rise above what you believe to be your humble beginnings and hold your head up. Is not Lord Gildor your uncle? Whether you have parents here or no, matters not. They did not abandon you willingly. Be proud of them and remember that one day you will find them again in Valinor. What happened to you Lindir that makes you wish to hide from the world? There are many who would give anything to have half of what you possess?"
Lindir could only stare at his friend. Did Haldir not understand? Lindir was not like other Elves. No matter what he did, no matter how well he did it, he could never overcome his past. It mattered not that he had noble blood, he was not noble. His father had been overcome by humans, his mother raped and broken by the same and Lindir had done nothing! He had watched them both die and not lifted a finger to prevent their deaths!
After the fëa of his parents had left this world and the men had loosed their hold on him, he had done everything the men asked. He had done so because he was too much of a coward to die. He had begged for his life. Did not Gil-galad die for the sake of his kin? Would not Glorfindel or Haldir give their last breath to save those they loved and cared for? That was the way of Elves and therein was Lindir's shame. He wore that dishonor like an iron collar around his neck. No matter what he did in this lifetime, it would never erase his guilt nor break that shackle. Oh, but he was a fool to think he deserved Glorfindel's love or Haldir's friendship or any of that which he had acquired at Imladris. He had thought he could bury his past deep inside, that as long as he never spoke of it, it would cease to exist. But he had done those things and he could not undo them. He would never sail to Valinor, for how could he ever face his parents. They knew the truth of his actions and Lindir knew if his friends ever found out, they would despise him forever.
Lindir felt the shame he had kept buried for so long come to the surface. He had tricked his friends. He had asked of them that which he could never give in return, honesty and trust and he hated himself for his deceit. He did not deserve happiness. He was no better than the prisoner that sat in the cell under Imladris guard, for did they not both share the same experience? Glorfindel had called the prisoner scum, evil. Why would the Balrog Slayer think Lindir any different?
He could not stay in Imladris any longer. For the first time in his life, he would do what was honorable, leave his kin and spend the rest of his life in solitude and reflection. It would not atone for his transgression, but at least he would never have cause to repeat his actions, to hurt or deceive anyone else.
He looked at the kindly Marchwarden with regret. "You know me not, Haldir, nor does anyone here. You believe me honest and trustworthy but you have no idea what I have done in my past. Never shall I be the elf you paint in your pictures, the elf that Glorfindel believes that I am. I am a liar, a sham. There is nothing that I can do to change my past. I am a fool, Haldir, a fool to think I could erase the stain upon my skin.
"Forgive me, my friend for what I must do. Speak with Glorfindel and tell him of my love for him, a love I may no longer share. Yet love him I shall, always. Glorfindel deserves better. To think, I believed I could bind myself to him. Break my leaving to him gently, Haldir. Treat him with care, for he is deserving of that. I am too much of a coward to tell him to his face that what we have is over, that I am leaving Imladris."
Haldir was left speechless. He could not imagine what had come over Lindir. The young Elf was acting so out of character. What Lindir said made no sense. Before Haldir was over his shock at the abrupt change in personality, Lindir had turned and fled into the crowd. Without hesitation, Haldir took off after him.

Notes:
1. Rhîw - The season of winter
2. The verse excerpt at the beginning of this chapter and here is Tolkien's.
3. Gil-galad gave the ring to Círdan the Shipwright, who later gave it to Gandalf. But of this, Vand is not aware.
4. mellonamin - my friend
References used in this chapter were The Silmarillion, edited by Christopher Tolkien and Michael Martinez's article, Middle Earth Connections: Lore of the Rings,--July 14, 2000.
I especially wish to thank Lalaith Nienóri, my beta, for her help and endless research and for suggesting the sub plot for Vand, the Half-elf. This would be a far less interesting story without her input!
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The Gift