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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
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The Gift
by Mirasaui

Part 27: Closure
There was not much to see, a small mound upon which grew the delicate niphredil and a cairn of water polished, smooth stones. No tablet scribed with names marked the passing of the two elves that were once the center of young Lindir's life, but that did not matter. It pleased him to know that what remained of their bodies rested in serenity and peace, in a place that they had once visited and loved. Here on Middle-earth, all Lindir had were the lingering memories of his parents - precious, oh so precious - yet also bittersweet.
Lindir knelt and ran his hands over the surface of the pile of worn rocks. The stone was wet with the morning's dew as if nature herself cried the tears that his eyes could no longer shed. In the past, he had filled buckets, rivers, lakes. It was enough. Free of the guilt and remorse that had haunted him since their deaths; he looked upon this earthy grave with a serene countenance, knowing that he and his parents would one day meet again in the lands where no one ever died.
A hand touched his shoulder.
"Lord Elrond gave me this." Glorfindel knelt beside Lindir. In his hand was a velvet purse, tied with a silk ribbon. Lindir took it from him and opened the bag. Therein lay two brooches and a gold ring. The top of the ring was flat and engraved with a seal. The brooches were identical, round in shape and cast of mithril with a golden lyre inlaid in the centre of each on a field of blue enamel.
"The ring was my mother's," Lindir said. The seal is Gildor's. And these they wore always, he rubbed his finger across the smooth surface of one of the pins, the badge of a minstrel.
"You should wear one, Lindir." Glorfindel replied. "You have their gift."
Lindir looked at his lover. "Ever I shunned the Harper's guild for I cared not to stay in the house of Master Findal." Lindir smiled. "He is hard to please yet my music is where it is today due to his teaching. Mayhap, I will change my mind but only if he continues our agreement; I would not wish to quit the patrol."
"I will speak with Master Findal personally, if that is your wish, Lindir." Glorfindel returned the smile. "He would not refuse Elrond's second-in-command."
Lindir flung his arms around Glorfindel's neck. "Second-in-Command! Oh, You have made your peace with Lord Elrond!"
Glorfindel laughed, "'It was you who made it for me. There was naught Elrond could do but apologize for the misunderstanding."
"As simple as that, eh?" Lindir raised his brow in imitation of the lord of Imladris.
"Nay, it was not that easy," Glorfindel replied, "but it is done. He touched Lindir's cheek with his fingers. "Lindir, it is not only Lord Elrond of whom I request forgiveness. It was never my intention to hurt you; I could not break my oath..."
"Shush," Lindir put a finger to Glorfindel's lips. "It is the past. I shoulder as much of the blame and responsibility, so we are even. It is the future that concerns me now, our future."
The kiss was tender and poignant, a kiss of forgiveness and promise. It was followed by another just as memorable. Lindir closed his eyes with the sweetness of it and Glorfindel pressed his advantage. The breeze was cool on their skin and the song birds trilled a lovely melody. It was a perfect moment broken by the sound of someone clearing his throat.
"Do not tell me, let me guess," Glorfindel sighed. "Haldir!"
"I can come back later," Haldir replied.
"No," Lindir answered to Glorfindel's dismay. "Many nights and days I will have with Glorfindel but you are leaving on the morrow and I will miss you dreadfully."
"I will not," Glorfindel replied. "Take your leave, Haldir."
"Glorfindel!" Lindir admonished his lover, striking him playfully on the chest. "That is no way to treat a friend."
"At the moment, he is not a friend but a rival," Glorfindel mumbled.
Haldir chuckled. "Nay, Glorfindel, you have beaten me at my own game. Lindir belongs to you and you alone." His mien sobered and he turned to Lindir. "It was not my intention to interrupt; I came to pay my respects."
Glorfindel pulled Lindir to his feet, nodding his head to Haldir, assuring his friend that his previous remark had been said in jest. The three guardians stood in comfortable silence looking down at the mound of piled stones. The marchwarden was the first to break the spell.
"There is nothing I can say that will erase your pain, Lindir, would that I had the means to do so."
"Or had I," Lindir said with a sad smile, "Your words bring comfort, Haldir, as does your presence."
"Of that I am glad," Haldir replied. "As warriors, we see more than our share of death. Often it is traumatic and causes some to become cynical, question the ways of Illúvatar." Haldir paused. "He is all wise, Lindir, and only he knows the final chapters in the book. It is our duty to live the life he gives us with our eyes wide open, to treasure the beauty and magnificence of his creation. There is as much purpose in death as there is in life although our people experience it less than others.
"For the sorrow you have suffered from your parents' passing, great will be the joy of your reunion in Aman. Were there not pain and grief, neither would there be bliss. From destruction and decay comes forth new beginnings and appreciation for the old. Let your memories sustain you now. They are a gift more precious than the finest gem or vein of mithril. Your parents will be proud of the elf you have become. They will greet you with open arms as my parents' will do the same for my brothers and I - when we sail, Lindir - when we leave these shores."
"Haldir speaks the truth," Glorfindel replied, placing his arm lightly around Lindir's waist, "For I have experienced death first hand. Enjoy what is given here and now and know there is even better yet to come."
A plaintive wail drew the attention of the three elves to one of the cliffs above the falls. There, back-lighted by the rising sun stood a lone piper who played a sad lament in honour of Lindir's parents. To the continuous drone of the pipes and the skirl of the notes from the chanter, voices joined in as the musicians of the Harper's guild also paid tribute. Lindir looked to both Glorfindel and Haldir. "'Tis Master Findal, there are none as skilled upon the pipes as he."
"That is not the first he has played that piece, Lindir, he wrote it the day we laid your parents' bodies to rest." So spoke Lord Elrond as he walked into the clearing, Lord Erestor at his side, followed by most of the elves that resided in the Last Homely House. All stood in front of the cairn and lifted their voices in song; Lindir's rising sweetly above the rest. When the last note of the pipe had died, Lindir laid his head upon Glorfindel's shoulder. Glorfindel hugged him close. Haldir was right. From death came new beginnings and for both a Balrog Slayer, reborn, and two minstrels' lonely child, a page in the book of life had turned. Tomorrow was the dawn of a glorious new day.
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The Gift