Befriending a Raven

"Achoo!"

Elrond quickly glanced around, hoping no one had heard.  Sniffling miserably, he quietly snuck through the deserted corridors trying to get back to his rooms without Gil-galad noticing.  If the Noldo king found out he had caught a cold, he'd be lectured and confined to bed for a month.  Gil-galad was so overprotective. 


Sneezing again, the ill half-elf leaned against the wall of a shadowed alcove.  The way he was feeling staying in bed might not be so bad.  Elrond sagged against the stone, feeling utterly drained.  His room was three floors up.  It seemed like three hundred miles away. 

Elrond was just gathering his strength for another attempt when movement near the library caught his eye. 


An inky shadow detached from the darkened archway leading into a small, unused library.  Elrond blinked, recognizing the dark elf that solidified from the shadow.  It seemed every time he turned around, there was this elf, always half hidden in shadow, always silent and watching.  When Elrond thought to approach, the dark elf always disappeared.  Knowing this, he did not try to approach now.


The half-elf watched from his hidden spot as the mysterious elf quickly glanced left and right, giving the distinct impression he was doing something illicit.  Elrond took a closer look.  He saw that the dark elf had something clutched to his chest.  It looked like it might be a book.


This confused Elrond further.  To his knowledge, there was no book in any library, save perhaps the king's personal study (which no one could get to anyway), that was not available to the public.  And, though the librarians frowned upon it, books could be taken out of the libraries by anyone but children.


But it seemed the dark elf had something to worry about for, once he was sure no one saw him, he dashed down the hall, staying close to the walls, hurrying under the torchlight and lingering in the shadows.  Elrond watched him disappear down the hall.


An explosive sneeze ripped through the half-elf, pulling his mind from the mystery of the dark elf.  Shivering and sniffing miserably, Elrond moved to the stairs. 


The short flight winded him as he couldn't breathe through his nose.  At the top of the stairs, he paused, a wave of vertigo doubling his vision.  He sneezed again.


The half-elf sagged wretchedly against the wall.  His eyelids felt like dead weights and he wanted nothing so much as to crawl into his bed and sleep until next year.


"You're sick again," a voice rumbled.  Elrond sighed, not bothering to open his eyes.  He was caught and at the moment, felt relieved.

Cool fingers touched his burning forehead and he heard a resigned sigh.  Abruptly, he was pulled into a suffocating embrace.  Elrond immediately nestled close to the king's warm body.


He felt Gil-galad soothingly stroke his long hair.  Elrond felt content to stay there, not really having the energy to move, but after a moment, Gil-galad held him back to look at him.  Elrond hated to see the look of worry in his cousin's icy blue eyes. 


"You sparred outside again, didn't you?" the king demanded.  He had cause to be worried.  It was winter and when the sweat of Elrond's exertions cooled, it caused a deep chill that normal elves did not feel.


"I used the inside ring," Elrond defended himself weakly, though he found simply shaking his head in denial was an effort.


"Which is still drafty," Gil-galad growled.  This was true.  On the outskirts of the castle near the stables were large pits where fighters tested themselves in opposition to each other.  These were used all year round, but over the years, it had been found necessary to have at least one such pit sheltered from the elements.  So, the elven warriors had erected a rude structure over one of the large pits. 


Though still beautiful in its outward appearances, it was obvious that the structure was made by hands untalented for the task.  The dirt floor held more heat to it than the stonework of the castle, but there was a long strip under the awning that was full open and allowed the winter cold to seep in despite large fires blazing in the corners.


Elrond opened his mouth to protest further but found he didn't have the strength for it.  Watching this, Gil-galad decided his lecture could wait until later.


"Alright," the king said gently, "Let's get you to bed."  Elrond made no protest to this either, just leaning upon the king's support as they walked up the next flight of stairs toward the royal suites.


The half-elf could feel that his cousin was just itching to pick him up and carry him to his room, but the king respected his cousin's dignity.  He only carried his charge when Elrond would let him and that was only when there was no one around. 


They struggled up the stairs, Elrond sneezing every other step.  He was quite out of breath by the time they were on the third floor.  Gil-galad stopped, letting Elrond recover.  Gently, he brushed sweaty hair out of the half-elf's flushed face.  Elrond closed his eyes, a wave of weariness washing over him.  He was just glad he wasn't nauseas. 


After a moment, Gil-galad urged his cousin on.  The half-elf leaned heavily on the king as they slowly moved down the wide hallway toward the royal suites. 


The hallway was quite empty, but that was usual.  The royal suites were designed to house the king, his wife, and heirs (hopefully many), but at the moment only Elrond and Gil-galad lived here. 


Each suite, save the king's, had a study and a bedroom.  The children's rooms connected through the bathrooms.  Gil-galad had an additional office where he conducted most of his private business.  The queen's bedroom adjoined his, but was self-contained so there need be no contact between them.  Elrond knew his cousin would not accept any such union where this would be desirable.


At the moment, the king practically dragged his young charge to his rooms.  Letting Elrond lean against him, Gil-galad pushed open the heavy oak doors.  A blast of cold air hit them, causing Elrond to shiver and move closer to his cousin's warmth.  The High King cursed, seeing no fire had been laid in his cousin's rooms.


"Lazy elves," he said.


"What do you mean?" Elrond asked innocently, finding it hard to concentrate for his weariness.


"What do you mean what do I mean?" Gil-galad said under his breath as he dragged the younger elf into the room.  The stone of the castle trapped cold air and the large rooms of the royal suites made them hard to heat.


Another gust of wind rattled the windows and even Gil-galad, a full-blooded elf, shivered.


Looking around, he found Elrond's books strewn over his table and a robe lay discarded over a chair.  Seeing his gaze, Elrond colored slightly.  He prided himself on being orderly and neat. 


"I was going to put those away," he said quietly.


"Why?" Gil-galad asked.  Elrond's confused frown caused the king to scowl.  "Don't your servants do anything!" he demanded, moving to drag his cousin out of the room.  Elrond dug his heels in, but made no real effort to halt their progress.


"You can't expect them to do everything.  What are you doing?" he asked as they moved back into the hallway.  Unconsciously, Elrond sighed to be out of his cold room.


"You're not staying in that cold room.  If you didn't have a cold already, you'd be sure to get one.  You'll stay in my room tonight."


Elrond shook his head, which felt like moving a large stone.  "I can't take away your room.  Where will you sleep?"


"I have an entire corridor of unused rooms."


"But-,"


"Elrond," Gil-galad said.  The half-elf shivered at the look his cousin gave him.  He had seen that look before.  It was the look of a king who expected to be obeyed and would not tolerate defiance.  Sighing, Elrond silently surrendered.


Gil-galad kissed his cousin's burning forehead to take the sting from his imperious look.  Elrond knew he wouldn't use his royal authority unless it was very important and Elrond's health was very important to the king. 


Seeing his cousin sway on his feet, Gil-galad swung him up into his arms.  The half-elf was too sick to protest, and instead burrowed closer to the king's warm body.  It brought back comforting childhood memories of other times his cousin had carried him.


Gil-galad shook his head at the ease with which he could carry a full grown half-elf.  Making a mental note to see his cousin ate more, the High King of the Noldor carried the half-elf into his rooms. 


He was pleased to note the roaring fire blazing in the fireplaces in both his office and bedroom.  Elrond was mostly asleep when the king set him on the bed.  He barely moved as Gil-galad removed his shoes and outer robes.  Then, he pulled the covers up and watched as Elrond snuggled into them, completely asleep.


Gil-galad gave him a fond smile, which promptly died as he thought about his cousin's cold rooms.  It was obvious to him that the servants were taking advantage of Elrond's kind nature.  The king would not tolerate it. 


He left his cousin to his dreams and strode down the corridor to the main stair leading up to the royal suites.  At the bottom of the stairs was the head-of-servant's room.


"Unduion!" Gil-galad bellowed, not caring if he woke anyone else.  He knew he would not disturb Elrond and at the moment that was all that mattered.


The homely elf was up the stairs and at his king's side in four seconds flat.  Gil-galad would have been impressed if he weren't so annoyed.  Unduion gulped nervously to see such fire in his king's eyes directed at him. 


"My king?" he asked.  Gil-galad waited several long moments, trying to calm his temper.


"Follow me," he finally said.  Unduion almost had to run to keep up with the king's long strides.  He was surprised when Gil-galad stopped in front of Elrond's rooms.


Unduion gave him a questioning look, but the king only gestured at the large door.  Frowning, the Head Servant cautiously opened the door.  He was hit by a blast of cold air.  Blinking in surprise, he entered.  Though a few things lay scattered about, the room was neat.  Unduion's frown deepened in confusion and he glanced at his king.  Gil-galad scowled at him.


"You do not feel that?" he demanded.  Unduion gave him an uncomprehending look.


"It's cold," he said.


"In a half-elf's rooms," Gil-galad spat.  The serving elf's eyes widened in understanding.


"Oh!"


"Yes, ‘oh' and this neatness owes nothing but to Elrond's nature."


"But surely the servants…" Unduion trailed off at the king's hard look.  He swallowed nervously.


"Now, I trust you understand my concern," the king said coolly.  The homely elf nodded dumbly.  The king's look hardened. 


"I want the current elves assigned to these rooms reassigned to stable duty.  Tomorrow morning I expect you to bring suitable applicants for my inspection.  I'm sure you can find elves with whom my cousin would be comfortable." The look the king gave said Unduion had better be able to.  Unduion nodded nervously.


"I believe you have something to take care of," the king said, gesturing toward Elrond's room.


"Oh, and Unduion," the king said as an afterthought.  "Have a healer brought to my rooms immediately."


****

It was high night when Elrond woke and could not fall back asleep.  He wanted nothing more than to remain curled in his king's bed.  It reminded him of when he was little and he would sneak into his cousin's room when he had had nightmares.  He always felt safe when near his king.


A sudden coughing fit tore through him and would not pass.  Knowing from experience that remaining reclined only made his coughing worse, Elrond reluctantly got up.  His fit calmed down after a minute.  Gratefully, the half-elf saw that Gil-galad had left a water pitcher by the bed and Elrond quickly gulped down a glass.


Knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep now, Elrond decided that a hot bath would open up his sinuses.  The half-elf quickly made the bed, slipped on his shoes and snuck out of the room.  The king's office was empty and Elrond wondered where his cousin was.  Shrugging it off for now, the half-elf returned to his room.


He was delighted by the glowing fire now crackling in his fireplace.  It made it much nicer for him to change into a simple bathing robe.  Selecting a change of clothes, Elrond then snuck back into Gil-galad's office.  Turning left, he went into the king's private study. 


Few people knew of the secret staircase, for it was well hidden behind a false bookcase.  Though there were windows in the stairwell, it was quite dark at night so Elrond grabbed a torch to light his way. 


The stairway had doors on each floor that opened into one of the king's private rooms.  Only Gil-galad's personal guards knew about the hidden access and they frowned upon its use for anything but an emergency.  Gil-galad scoffed at that, needing a quick way to get to his throne room and council chambers. 


Elrond passed both these doors, heading down beneath the castle.  Here the stairwell led down to a series of caves filled with elf-made hot springs.  The caverns were lined with marble so they looked like any other rooms. These were the king's private chambers, hidden from the main population.  Communal hot springs were on the other side of the castle, open to the air and filled with people all day long.  Elrond could appreciate Gil-galad's want of privacy. 


Emerging from the hidden stair, Elrond stopped short.  There, sitting peacefully in the king's bath, was that mysterious elf. The half-elf blinked and glanced about to make sure no one else was here.  He took a moment to truly study the dark elf, for once not hidden in shadow. 


The elf had inky black hair, darker than Elrond's own.  His features were quite severe, sharpened by his slight emaciation, but there was an undeniable beauty about him.  At the moment, his eyes were closed, so Elrond could not tell their color.  The elf's skin was marble white and stretched taut over high cheekbones, delicate fingers, and protruding collarbones and ribs, marked here and there with pink and silver scars. 


As his eyes wandered over the expanse of exposed skin, he was drawn to the juncture of the dark elf's shoulder and neck.  Elrond's eyes widened and his breath caught.  Unconsciously, his hand moved to his own shoulder where he knew there was an identical smudge to that which he saw.  It was a small mark, brownish gray in color and the shape of a flower. 


Suddenly, Elrond was very interested in meeting this strange elf, glad to find another like himself.  He'd had no one to talk to since Elros had become king and he couldn't talk to Gil-galad.  The Fëanorians' words still haunted him, keeping him from seeking the advice of his king.  It was hard to have any secrets from his cousin.  He was unsure if Gil-galad knew, for in his youth there had been many chances for detection despite how he and Elros had tried to hide it.  But when Elrond and his twin had first arrived, everyone had been so worried about their injuries they probably overlooked his mark, thinking it no more than another bruise to add to the many covering him, and once they overlooked it, they probably considered that they had already seen that patch of skin and there was nothing there.  If they saw it at a glance, they would think it nothing but a shadow or dirt.  Still, though he might be safe, Elrond wished to be able to speak with someone who understood his position.


Shaking himself, Elrond set his clothes on a bench and began to undress.  Having seen the other elf's scars made him less self-conscious about his own.  He glanced over at the dark elf, seeing that he was actually quite young, perhaps just past his majority.  It was probable that the mysterious elf was quite new here, otherwise he would know the library was open to all and he certainly wouldn't be bathing in the king's springs like he owned the place. 


The thought amused the half-elf and gave him confidence to approach the other elf.  Knowing if it were him, Elrond would want to be surprised by an elf who was at least covered, he announced his presence by slipping into the springs. 


The dark elf's eyes snapped open.  To Elrond's surprise, the eyes that looked at him with a slight hint of panic were a beautiful milk-chocolate brown.  It was such an unusual color for an elf that Elrond momentarily lost his train of thought.  Mentally shaking himself, the half-elf gave his companion a shy smile.


"Hello," he greeted.  The other elf seemed too shocked to reply, his mouth hung open and his expression could only be described as one of horror.  Elrond blinked, finding the reaction a bit extreme, but then, it was usually he who was the fidgety one. 


Keeping his smile in place, Elrond began to unbraid his messy hair, trying to ease the dark elf's mind by not focusing all his attention on him.


"I've seen you around," Elrond continued, in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner.  "Um, do you work in the library…?" he trailed off hoping the other elf would supply a name.  He was wary of doing the same, though he didn't know why. 


The elf didn't take his bait, still staring dumbly at him.  Elrond wasn't sure how to continue, deciding to remain quiet until the dark elf regained his wits.  Quickly submerging himself, the half-elf let the water soak into his skin. 


It seemed his movement freed his companion, who began to move toward the edge of the pool.  Seeing his chance passing him by, Elrond chose to be blunt.  "I noticed the mark on your shoulder," he said and mentally winced when he saw the dark elf go sheet white and begin to shake.  The elf turned wide frightened eyes to him.


Continuing as if they were discussing nothing out of the ordinary, Elrond plowed forward.  "I only bring it up because…" Here he hesitated, knowing he was putting himself in danger.  But one look at those terrified eyes told him the elf before him understood his fears.  Taking a deep breath, Elrond pulled his hair behind him, revealing his own mark.


"I have the same mark."


The elf's eyes widened ever further, but his muscles relaxed slightly.  His doe-eyes were fixed on Elrond's shoulder.  Unconsciously, he moved closer.  It was obvious he was shocked.


Elrond moved, drawing the dark elf's attention to his face.  "Do you have a name?" he asked with a gentle smile.  The dark elf regarded him for a moment, though Elrond could not read his expression.


"Erestor," the dark elf blurted out in a squeak.  Elrond's smile grew, feeling he was finally getting somewhere with the timid elf.


"That's a pretty name," he said, trying to engage the frightful elf.  But just then a particularly nasty coughing attack ripped through him.  For a moment, all Elrond could focus on was trying to breathe through his hacking.  Finally the fit passed.


Elrond gratefully sat on the underwater bench lining the sides of the hot spring, feeling utterly drained. 


"Are you alright?" a concerned voice asked timidly.  Elrond looked up blearily, glad he hadn't scared the other elf off. 


"Yes," he croaked, his voice scratchy and rough.  He swallowed a few times, though it helped only marginally.  "It's only a cold, annoying but not life threatening.  I came here in the hopes the steam would open up my airways."  Elrond shrugged, long ago resigning himself to these periodic sicknesses, though they had been occurring less frequently since he had chosen to be an elf. 


Erestor watched him with concern for a moment before sitting uneasily across from the half-elf.  "I've never heard of an elf getting sick before.  Are you an elf?" the dark elf asked, suddenly thinking of it.


Elrond slowly shook his head, trying not to add to his headache.  "Half-elf," he murmured.


"Oh," Erestor said, obviously not knowing what to say or think about that.  Taking a deep breath, Elrond attempted to move the conversation away from his illness.


"So, are you new around here?" he asked. 


Erestor looked down at the water and nodded. "For about three months."


"Are you all alone?  Do you have family here?" The dark elf shook his head nervously. 


Deciding it sounded like he was interrogating the dark elf, Elrond thought he should give some information in return.  "I only have a cousin here, but he's so over protective of me.  He practically chained me to bed the first time I got sick.  But then, he's a full-blooded elf and not used to it."  Elrond shrugged. 


"Have you ever met any edain?" the half-elf asked curiously.  Now it was Erestor who shrugged.  He had looked up while Elrond spoke.


"I've seen more here than I ever did before, but I haven't spoken with any of them," the dark elf said.  Elrond nodded, having often been called upon to talk to edain councilors seeking the aid of the Noldor King.  They were quite frequent visitors here as Gil-galad wished to maintain good relations with the Secondborn. 


"They can be a bit intimidating, especially the ones from the south and east, but the Númenóreans are nice.  My brother lives there, so I guess I'm more familiar with them from his letters."  Elrond stopped, not wanting to talk about his twin.  Even now, twenty years later, it still hurt deeply to think of losing his beloved twin forever. 


Trying not to, he unconsciously sought out the connection between them.  Though dormant at the moment, it was still there, still holding them together.


"How long have you been here?" Erestor asked softly.  Elrond was grateful for the change in topic.


"I followed the king from Balar," he said, though that wasn't precisely true.  He neglected to mention the slight detour he and his twin took to the War of Wrath. 


"What do you do here?" the dark elf asked.  The half-elf was glad the other elf was participating now. 


"Well, I work a little bit in the library, but I'm mainly a healer." Again, he neglected to mention his duties as herald.  Elrond was unsure why he kept avoiding the issue of his royal station.


"You're a healer?" the young elf perked up at this.  Elrond nodded solemnly.  Suddenly shy, Erestor looked back at the water, his hair hiding his face. Elrond settled back against the hot spring's side, waiting for the shy elf to say what he wanted. 


"I've never met anybody with the mark before," came the quiet comment.  Elrond sighed.


"Save for my brother, neither have I."  Erestor looked up at that.


"You and your brother?  Did your father bear the mark then, or did you have two fathers?" he asked quickly, unable to hide his curiosity.  Elrond thought for a moment.


"I never met my father, but I did have a mother.  She never said anything about my mark.  I think perhaps he did, but it may have come from her.  Then again, my brother and I are identical, so neither of my parents might have had it."  Elrond shrugged again, knowing his own experience revealed nothing of the mark.  The half-elf could see Erestor's disappointment. 


"No one had the mark before me," Erestor said quietly.  They were silent for a time.  Finally, the dark elf spoke.  "Your mother never said anything?" he asked, confused.  Elrond shook his head.


"My brother and I were … separated from my mother when we were still young.  We were cared for by others," he said, trying not to remember those horrible days.


"And these others, what did they say?" Erestor persisted.  Elrond was silent for a very long time.


"They found it to be … they were not pleased," Elrond amended, trying not to think of his cruel torment at the hands of the Fëanorians


"My father was also … not pleased," Erestor whispered.  Elrond could hear a wealth of hurt in his voice.  Silence descended again, both saddened by what they had learned, both having hoped their case was unique. 


The silence was interrupted by another coughing fit.  When he finally leaned back, Elrond felt exhausted. 


"Are you sure you're alright?" Erestor asked in concern.  Sometime during the fit, he had moved closer.  Elrond's head moved but whether in a nod or a shake Erestor couldn't tell.


"Should probably get out," the half-elf mumbled, but merely looked at the stairs, finding he had no energy to do anything.


Hesitantly, Erestor approached the half-elf.  When Elrond didn't move, Erestor awkwardly wrapped an arm around him and hauled him up.  Elrond leaned heavily on the thin elf, letting him help him out of the pool.  Erestor led him to the side benches where he had laid his clothes.  The dark elf left, returning a moment later with towels and was completely dressed himself.  Elrond let the other elf fuss over him before mustering enough energy to dress.


"Perhaps you should go to bed," Erestor suggested, eyeing him worriedly. 


"No," Elrond said firmly, fearing that if he left now, he'd never speak to Erestor again.  He wasn't willing to let that happen.  "I just need some breakfast to build up my strength.  Would you join me?" he asked.


Erestor looked undecided.  Elrond made himself look as helpless as he could.  It must have worked for the dark elf sighed and nodded.  Using the dark elf as support, the two slowly made their way through the deserted corridors.  Though he tried to hide it, Elrond felt horrible.  His breathing was labored, sweat beaded on his forehead and his steps were slow. 


"Perhaps I should fetch breakfast for you," Erestor suggested.  At the moment, Elrond could only nod in agreement.  Conveniently, they had stopped near one of the smaller, less used libraries.  Erestor settled Elrond in one of the fluffy chairs and then darted out for food. 


Elrond wondered if he should be concerned.  Perhaps he had scared the other elf away.  But apparently he needn't have worried, for it seemed to the half-elf that Erestor returned almost as soon as he left.  Elrond lifted an eyebrow.


"That was fast," he said looking at the tray piled high with food.  Erestor shrugged, setting the tray down on a low bookcase.  Surveying the room, the thin elf moved a low table closer to Elrond and then moved the tray. 


Elrond's stomach contracted looking at the fluffy bread and sweet fruit spreads, but he knew he had to eat; if not because it had been his excuse to keep Erestor with him then because he knew it was good for his health.  He munched slowly on his breakfast.  Erestor joined him for a moment, but he seemed no hungrier than the half-elf, which concerned his companion.  The healer in him eyed the other elf critically, but found he didn't have the energy for a confrontation. 


Finally, Erestor gave up any pretense of eating, and instead reached for a nearby book and paged through it.  Elrond let the silence linger, using the time to regain his strength.  Sipping his yea, he leaned back.


"What are you reading?" he asked quietly.  Erestor startled, obviously having forgotten Elrond's presence for the moment.  Elrond smiled gently and Erestor relaxed.


"An account of the War of Wrath," the dark elf replied.  The half-elf glanced at the book, instantly recognizing it.  "It's a little quick and doesn't cover the whole of the war, just the end."


Elrond smirked.  "Well, I wasn't there for all of it," he said.  His companion frowned for a moment before his eyes widened dramatically.


"You mean you wrote this?" he asked.  Elrond glanced at the book again and nodded.  "Then you were there.  But I thought you said you followed the king from Balar," Erestor accused, tensing at the thought of being lied to.  Elrond nodded.


"I grew up on Balar and doubtless would've remained there but for a freak accident," he said and found he had a captive audience in Erestor.  Suppressing a smirk, he pitched his voice slightly lower to make the account more dramatic, something he had learned from Círdan. 


"My brother and I were out sailing alone when we were caught in a storm.  It was not like any storm I have ever seen, before or since.  Though it tossed our ship like a toy, there was very little movement and the water rose up like a wall all around us, blocking our view of anything.  We battled with it for a full day before it dispersed in an instant.  When it cleared, we were on the shores of Lake Mithrim."


"That's impossible!" Erestor interrupted, as Elrond had expected him to do.  "There's no way you could travel that far in a day.  It's over six hundred and fifty miles and far inland too!"  Elrond nodded again.


"Unless it is the Valar's will," he said gravely.  Erestor's eyes widened even further. 


"The Valar spoke to you?" he asked, awed.  But Elrond slowly shook his head. 


"I have not met them, but I can think of no one else with power enough to cause such a storm.  And when my brother and I set foot on land, there were two sets of armor awaiting us."


"Really?" Erestor couldn't hide his interest.  Elrond smiled indulgently.  Remembering that day still filled him with awe and regret.  There had been no doubt in either twin that Ulmo had called for them, just as he had their grandfather, Tuor.  No words had been spoken to them, at least not in any language that spoke to the ears, but another spoke to their hearts, quietly whispering their separate destinies.  It was the beginning of their parting and Elrond hated to think on it.


"I'm not sure that I believe that," Erestor said, interrupting the half-elf's memories.  Elrond's indulgent smile returned.


"Sometimes neither do I, and I was there."  Erestor looked at him for a moment before returning his smile shyly.  Elrond set his cup down.


"So, what else do you like to read?" he asked.


****

"My lord, the candidates are here for your perusal."


Gil-galad looked up to see his head servant standing stiffly at the door.  Setting his quill down, the king nodded slowly.  "Very well, send them in."


The king stood up as twenty odd elves walked into his large office.  Gil-galad studied each elf before him, instantly dismissing elves he felt would make his cousin nervous.  Unduion closed the door after the dismissed left, leaving eleven elves in the room.  Gil-galad silently scrutinized the remaining elves for so long some of them began to fidget nervously.


"Do you know why you are here?" he asked at length, his voice low with gravity. 


"You're choosing servants for a new task," a young woman said boldly.  She was uncommonly pretty, with hair the color of spring strawberries left unbound and river-eyes that shone with youth and vigor.  Her dress was cut low around the neck and was cleverly sewn to allow for a flash of leg when she walked.  Gil-galad eyed her coldly.  She fidgeted under his gaze but did not look away.


"What is your name?" he asked.


"Ninde, my lord," she said, curtsying quickly. 


"Hmm, and do you know what the task is?" The young made shook her pretty head.  Extending his gaze to the others, they also shook their heads in answer. 


"Hmm," Gil said, returning to his desk.  "Has anyone here been to Númenor?" His question was met with silence.  "Does anyone want to go to Númenor?"


"Is that why we're here?" another maid piped up.  "You're sending someone to the new kingdom?"  Gil-galad noticed the flicker of disgust in a few eyes and quickly crossed them off his list.


"Do you have a problem with that?" he asked lazily.


"Well, yes," she stammered.


"Why?"


"I won't be separated from my children," she said defiantly, jutting her chin out.


"Mmm, and how many children do you have?" the king asked.  She gave him a challenging look.


"Three sons and two daughters."  Her glare intensified.  Gil-galad lifted an eyebrow, scanning her more closely.


"And another on the way, it seems," he said drolly.  The woman blushed, but lifted her chin proudly.  "Do you have a name?"


"Tavaril, sir," she said, curtsying.  Gil-galad studied her for a long moment before moving his eyes to the others.


"To my original question, would anyone go to Númenor for their king?" His tone was completely devoid of any emotion.  He received a few hands.  Gil-galad gestured with his chin toward a pretty elf. 


"Why do you say yes?" he asked.


"It is my pleasure to serve my king," the elf said with obviously feigned humility.  His eye caught Ninde's and she flashed him a smile.  The king noted a few other elves roll their eyes.


"Your name?" he demanded. 


"Almo, sire," he said with a bow.  Gil-galad studied the elf but then looked at the others.


"Who has been assigned to serve edain ambassadors?" A few hands rose.


"I have," Ninde said audaciously.  "I do it all the time."


Gil-galad pinned her with his cold blue eyes.  "All the time?  And how did you end up with such an onerous chore?" his tone now sounding bored.  The maid fiddled with her skirts, unintentionally showing a fair ankle.


"Well, I guess other leave it for me.  I don't mind," she said quietly, not looking him in the eye.


"Hmm…does anyone else often work with edain or their rooms?" he asked.  Five hands rose, three men and two women, one of which belonged to Tavaril. 


"Your name?" the king asked, nodding to a very stiff elf. 


"Cuandur, your majesty," he said, bowing.  His voice was just slightly nasal. 


"If I am not mistaken, you also said you would go to Númenor, correct?" Gil-galad remembered. 


"Yes, your majesty," Cuandur replied.


"Do you have any family?"


"A wife, my king," the proper elf responded.


"Name?"


"Poicamáre."  Gil-galad raised an eyebrow.  He had heard of her.  Apparently she was the terror of the kitchen. 


"And you are often assigned to mortals?" the king asked.  Cuandur shrugged elegantly. 


"Perhaps not assigned but I do usually end up serving their ambassadors."  It did not pass Gil-galad's notice that the last word was slightly emphasized.  He turned to the next maiden.


"Your name?"


"Eluwen, sir.  I'm assigned to the rooms most often given to edain travelers." She curtsied. 


"Have you ever met these occupants?" Gil-galad pressed.


"Oh, no my lord.  I always clean when they're gone," she said.  The king studied her for a moment before turning to regard the elf next to her.


"Name?" he commanded.


"Analto, sire," the elf said lazily.


"And what is your experience with mortals?"


"Much the same as Eluwen, my lord.  I work in the guest rooms."


"And have you spoken to any of these edain?" the king asked in a bored tone. 


"I don't think they like to be bothered much, your majesty," Analto replied.


"So, the answer is no?" Gil-galad asked.  The elf nodded.  The king turned his attention to the next elf.


"Tavaril?" he started, but she interrupted him.


"I bring them meals, so yes, I talk to them, ask them what they want, how their day was, answer questions they have, whatever I need to," she said boldly.  Gil-galad raised an eyebrow, but she actually crossed her arms over her chest and glared down her nose at him.  It took a great deal of will not to smirk at her. 


Turning his attention to the last elf, he asked, "Name?"


"Tulcandil," was the dark answer.  The voice was lower than Gil-galad had ever heard an elf's voice to be, with the exception of his cousin, but then Elrond was half-elven.


"You do not look like the other servants.  Have you been a warrior?"  The elf before him was taller than any elf the king could remember seeing, his bearing stiff like that of a warrior on the eve of battle.  He was broad of chest, but the length of him made him seem slim like the other elves.  His hair was a non-descript brown as were his eyes, though that might have been the light.  An eerie dull defiance shone from them.


"No, sir," he said.  There was something in his tone that caused Gil-galad to narrow his eyes in suspicion. 


"And are you assigned to the guest quarters?"


"No."


"Would you mind going to Númenor?"


"No."


"Do you have family?" the king asked, hoping to get the large elf to open up.


"No."


"How long have you worked for me?"


"Eighteen years," the large elf said, his whole being remaining unmoved.


"Have you always worked as a servant?"


"No."


"Previous occupations?" Gil-galad asked, perversely glad to have someone who answered him succinctly and straight to the point.


"Blacksmith, gardener, woodworker, builder-"


"Builder of what?" the king interrupted.


"Whatever needs building," Tulcandil said shortly.


"How did you end up as a servant?" Gil-galad asked curiously.


"That would be my own business," he replied tonelessly.  The king arched an eyebrow while the other servants held their breath.  Studying the large elf closer, Gil-galad asked:


"Have you ever worked with children?"  Finally, an emotion flickered through the large elf's eyes, showing the king that they were actually a dark green in color.  Clearly the tall elf was surprised by the question.


"Yes, sir," he said, looking wary.


"Elaborate," the king ordered.  Tulcandil looked uncomfortable.


"I've helped in the nursery and was a teacher of my trades," he said.


"Are any of your students of note?" The large elf growled menacingly.


"All of my students are worthy and skilled," he said defensively.  Gil-galad restrained a smile.  Perceiving that Tulcandil would be no more forthcoming, the king turned his attention back to the group.  He studied them all for a very long time, letting his instincts guide him. 


With a gesture, he brought Unduion to his side.  He whispered into the proper elf's ear.  Unduion nodded and turned to the waiting group.


"If you would wait outside for a moment," he said.  Obediently, they trudged out.


Unduion turned back to his lord.  "Well, your majesty?" he asked.


"What do you know of Cuandur?" the king asked. 


"Well, he and his wife joined the household with the remnants of your father's people.  I believe he used to serve your grandfather, King Fingolfin."


"And his work?" Gil-galad asked.


"Impeccable, sire.  He's very dedicated.  I have never had cause for complaint with him.  Would that all my staff performed as he does," Unduion responded.  The king sat thoughtfully for a moment before nodding and returning his attention to the stiff elf by his side.


"The maid, Eluwen, tell me about her," he commanded.  Unduion shrugged elegantly.


"She's served us only a short while.  I believe she used to be a servant in Lord Caranthir's home and, I believe, she worked for his brothers after his death.  In any case, Eluwen became separated from her people by the War and wound up here.  She's an average worker," the other elf concluded, as if that was the most important point.  He failed to notice the darkening of Gil-galad's eyes and the tightening of his jaw that heralded fierce anger.


"Do you know anything about that large elf, Tulcandil?" the king asked tightly, hoping to distract his antagonism.  Unduion looked uncomfortable.


"I learned more about him today then in the last twenty years he has worked here.  He showed up right after the war, injured if I recall correctly.  He refused to talk about his time before arriving here.  Indeed, he rarely speaks at all, but he's a very hard worker, doesn't complain about anything."


"Do you know anything about his personal interests?" the king persisted.  The other elf slowly shook his head.


"He works very long hours, but when he does take time off, he completely disappears."


"Does he get drunk?"


"No, your majesty.  He refuses any drink, even when the servants celebrate together.  He's not very social.  Though…" Unduion trailed off.  Gil-galad canted an eyebrow in question, to which his head servant merely shrugged.


"Well, as you asked, children like him and though he's never outwardly happy, he makes time for them," the proper elf commented.  The king sat back, thinking.  After a long moment, he looked back at his stiff servant, an amused twinkle in his cold blue eyes.


"And Tavaril?" he asked.  Unduion sniffed critically.


"Well, she's served you for a long time.  Your father sent her down with you when you were fostered by Lord Círdan.  I don't know what she did when there, but she worked mostly as a weaver while on Balar.  I think Tavaril wanted a change of pace when we relocated here.  She married one of your guards while on the isle; er, Roitar's his name.  She's certainly a diligent worker…" he trailed off.


"But?" the king prompted, hearing more in the other elf's voice.


"But she's so opinionated.  Very rarely is she respectful, and she has all those kids.  So of course, she's very lenient with all the pranks the other children do and is indulgent with them." The proper elf failed to note his king's raised eyebrow at this.


"Surely, some of her children must be grown," Gil-galad commented.


"Oh, yes and they're the worst.  They've all followed their father into the guard.  When they come back from patrol, they're always hanging around the kitchen, flirting with the maids and distracting the cooks."


The High King's face remained impassive, but inside he was amused by his servant's frustration.  It was obviously a long-standing annoyance for the stiff elf.


"Speaking of flirtation, what do you know of Ninde?" he asked.  Unduion actually rolled his eyes, which surprised the king for he had never seen him do that.


"She was born on Balar, sir, the daughter of a sailor and a kitchen maid.  They went to Valinor in search of family, so I hear, but Ninde chose to stay behind.  I think she wanted an adventure." The stiff elf sighed.


"Does she neglect her work?" Gil-galad asked.


"Oh no, my king!  At least in that regard, she is adequate.  She's not particularly lazy or unreliable, but she's the worst flirt and she'll flirt with anyone, old, young, married, single, edain, elf, male, female.  I think she'd flirt with a dwarf if she had the chance."


"Does it go beyond flirting?" the king asked seriously.  Unduion wrinkled his nose.


"I do not keep track of the servants' personal lives," he said.  Gil-galad gave him an incredulous look.


"But surely you must have some idea." His tone suggested his servant had better be truthful and forthcoming with his king.  Unduion shifted nervously.


"I believe she does, though I will say that I've never heard her doing anything improper.  She may flirt with married elves, but she won't bed them.  But she will bed anyone else," he said.


"How aggressive is she in her pursuit?" the king asked.  Unduion shrugged.


"Not very.  She has no problem filling her bed, so there's always someone else if she's turned down."


"Is there anyone she doesn't flirt with?"


"Not really.  She may soften her approach though.  For someone shy, she might smile as opposed to grabbing them and kissing them," the other elf said.  Gil-galad smirked, hearing something in his tone.


"Did she do that to you, Unduion?" he asked wickedly.  The homely elf blushed bright red and nervously fiddled with his sleeve.


"She may have," he mumbled.


"If I tell her to leave Elrond alone, will she?" Gil-galad asked suddenly.  Unduion blinked at the unexpected shift in the tone of the conversation.


"If you tell her, no.  If Lord Elrond does, perhaps.  If she sees he's shy, more likely."


Gil-galad nodded slowly.  "Very well, send in Tavaril, Cuandur, Ninde and Tuncandil."


Unduion blinked again.  "All four?" he asked incredulously before he could help himself.  Gil-galad nodded thoughtfully.


"Yes.  A bit much, I agree.  I intended two servants, perhaps three, but I think this mix will work well," the king mused.  The proper elf bowed and went to do his king's bidding.


Obediently, the four elves returned and stood before their king.  Gil-galad took a last moment to study them, making sure he had made the right decision, but let Unduion speak.


"The four of you have been chosen.  I trust you will continue the quality work I have seen over the years." His eyes settled on Ninde.  The king watched the maids roll their eyes.


"Chosen for what exactly?" Tavaril demanded, eyeing Unduion and the king suspiciously.  Gil-galad was quite amused by her, though he didn't show it.  His servant, on the other hand, wrinkled his nose with displeasure at her aggressive nature.


"You have the pleasure of being the personal servants to Lord Elrond," he said stiffly.  Surprise flickered over all four elves, obviously the last thing they expected.  They glanced at each other.


"So, we're not going to Númenor?" Tavaril asked, obviously the concern foremost in her mind.  Gil-galad shook his head.


"Not unless Elrond goes there, and I sincerely doubt he will."  That seemed to appease her slightly.  "I will give your orders to you after lunch and you will start your duties this evening."


While he was speaking, there was a quiet knock that Gil-galad knew well, though it was more rapid than usual. 


"Come in," he called.  As he expected, Elrond poked his head in the room.  The half-elf noticed the other five elves.


"Are you busy?" he asked, his nose obviously stuffed up.  The High King shook his head and gestured his cousin into the room.  Elrond smiled shyly at the servants before approaching his king.  Gil-galad stood to meet his herald.  Elrond glanced at the servants, who were watching him intently.


"What are you doing?" he asked quietly. 


"I've chosen new servants for you.  I was…less than pleased with your current servants' work," Gil-galad said.  The half-elf blinked in surprise and glanced at the servants standing before him.  "These four are you replacements."


"Four elves?" Elrond asked incredulously, his voice growing rough and hoarse as he spoke.  "What do I need four servants for?  Honestly, Ereinion, I'm sick, not dying."  Unfortunately, he punctuated this statement with a delicate sneeze.  The king raised an eyebrow, his expression determined.


"I should hope not," he said drolly.  Feeling tired, Elrond sighed.


"Fine," he said, not up for a fight.  Gil-galad nodded to Unduion. 


"You are dismissed."


The proper elf shepherded the other elves out.  Gil-galad gently touched Elrond's cheek, feeling the lingering warmth of fever in his skin.


"I thought you were in bed," he said.


"I went to take a bath in the hot springs," Elrond responded.  His eyes suddenly sparkled with new life and his jubilant words stopped any questions of the king.  "And I made a new friend.  His name is Erestor and he likes books as much as I do.  He's very shy, and it was very hard to get him to start talking, but I managed to coax him into a conversation.  It was weird to meet someone shyer than me, but Erestor's quite new here, so don't be mad he was using your hot springs.  I didn't enlighten him on it, but-"


"Elrond stop!" Gil-galad commanded, a trace of laughter in his voice.  "I cannot understand a thing you are saying.  Slow down.  Now, you've made a new friend?" he asked, having extracted that at least from the waterfall of words. 


Suddenly shy, the half-elf nodded.  Gil-galad's smile softened.  He wrapped an arm around his cousin's waist and led him to the study.  Still feeling a bit woozy, Elrond leaned into the support.


"What time did you get up?  Did you have any breakfast?" the king asked, spying his own breakfast on the table.  Elrond nodded.  "Really?" Gil-galad persisted suspiciously, knowing Elrond's tendency to skip meals.  His concern earned him an annoyed glare from his cousin. 


"Well, more can't hurt," the elder elf said, seating his cousin at the table and forcing a pear into his hand.  Elrond only sighed, knowing fighting about this was useless.


"So, did I hear correctly?  You met your new friend in my hot springs?" Gil-galad prompted.  Elrond blushed slightly, which was not helped at all by his cousin's smirk.  The half-elf nodded.


"You aren't mad, are you?" he asked quickly.  Gil-galad calmly smeared fruit spread over a biscuit and handed that to his cousin.  Elrond glared at it, but took it anyway, munching around the edges.


"No, so long as I don't see him there," the king responded.  Elrond nodded.  "What is your new friend like?  Do I know him?"


"Maybe.  He hasn't been here very long, but you might've seen him around.  He has very dark hair and unusual brown eyes-," Elrond began.


"What, you mean that elfling who's always dressed in black robes?" Gil-galad interjected.  Elrond nodded, happy the king seemed to know whom he was talking about.


"Yes, he's working for a junior scribe, but he wants to be a head librarian.  He loves to read.  He's already read all the books in the library by the servants' quarters."


"Hmm, an elf after your own heart then?" Gil-galad said.  Elrond nodded shyly.  He set his fruit and biscuit down on his plate, feeling full.  The king gave a pointed look at the neglected food, but Elrond missed it.  His eyelids suddenly felt like iron weights.  Noticing this, Gil-galad set his own breakfast aside. 


"I'm going to meet Erestor again this evening," Elrond suddenly said before Gil-galad could open his mouth. 


"I think a nap first is in order," the king said, standing up.  Elrond moved his head, but whether in a nod or shake, Gil-galad couldn't tell. 


The elder elf hauled his cousin to his feet.  He slung the half-elf's arm over his shoulder and lugged him to his room.  Elrond did not protest, letting his cousin tuck him into bed. 


But when Gil-galad moved to leave, he was startled when Elrond reached out and grabbed his wrist.  Barely keeping his eyes open, the half-elf gently tugged on Gil-galad.


"Wake me come evening," he mumbled.  The king gently stroked his cousin's cheek.


"Of course," he said.  He was startled again when Elrond opened his eyes fully and stared at him intently.


"Promise," he said seriously.  Gil-galad sighed, gently stroking Elrond's hair.


"I promise," the king replied with equal seriousness.  "But only if you sleep until then."


Gil-galad was amused to watch his cousin close his eyes and fall instantly asleep.  Chuckling, he quietly exited, leaving his beloved cousin to his dreams.


****

Erestor was almost bouncing as he walked towards the kitchens.  He was going to meet his new friend soon.  To his chagrin, after their meeting Erestor realized he had never asked for his new friend's name.  The young elf would remedy that tonight.


The dark elf was very glad.  He was so shy that it was hard to make friends, thus at the moment he didn't know very many people.  It had been very lonely for him so far.  But now, he knew someone, someone who was in the same situation as he was.


That thought sobered him, even as a rush of relief flooded his system.  His mark was one of the reasons he couldn't make friends.  Erestor was always so afraid people would find out, but he wouldn't have to worry about his new friend.


Finding himself at the kitchens, the dark elf hesitantly entered.  The kitchens were always a lively place, bustling with servants going about their work.  Elves stopped by at all times of day for snacks or to order meals.  Erestor always felt like he might be trampled in the busy place. 


Keeping close to the wall, the young elf moved toward the long tables at the side of the room where food was always available.  Erestor sat at the very end, helping himself to whatever was near.  Generally, Erestor ate as quickly as he could, hoping not to draw attention to himself.


He was just finishing up when two elves sat down beside him, obviously still deep in conversation. 


"Couldn't keep your hands to yourself, could you?" the further of the two said.  His friend answered him with a lewd grin that made Erestor uncomfortable.  "So where'd you get reassigned?"


"King's personal hot springs," the other said with an important sniff.


"Really? What's it like?" the first asked curiously. 


"Oo, very nice.  Everything's covered with marble so you don't know you're underground, large ceilings, plenty of space.  Of course, being out of the air, the steam stays and makes the place much warmer than the outside baths."


"Yeah, I went to the communal ones last night and almost froze my nuts off," the first elf said.  His companion snorted.


"The king would never have that problem.  He's got that whole place to himself without whiny kids or nosy neighbors.  It's not fair."


"Oh, I don't know.  I've seen those advisors he has to work with." The elf shuddered giving his opinion of them.


"I still think he should open his hot springs to the public," the second elf whined.


"Well, when you build your own castle, you can have your own personal, completely exclusive hot springs too," his friend laughed and the two changed subjects.


Erestor sat frozen in shock.  He had been in the king's private baths?  The dark elf was just shy of full-blown panic when a thought struck him.  If it was the king's chambers, what was his new friend doing there?


An icy shiver having nothing to do with winter went down his spine, settling in his stomach.  Unable to eat any more, Erestor quickly left the inviting kitchens, needing to get away from the stifling chattering.  He stumbled out into a small frozen garden.


In a moment of brilliant clarity, all the pieces fit together.  A half-elf with position enough to procure rare parchment in order to write a book, who had been on Balar, taken from his mother, had a brother in Númenor and fought in the War of Wrath…it had to be Lord Elrond, herald to the king.  Erestor thought he'd faint, afraid of what the half-elf would tell the king.


The dark elf couldn't afford to be turned out.  He had nowhere to go.  He didn't know what to do.  Elrond was expecting him tonight.  Perhaps if he didn't show up, the half-elf would forget about him and he wouldn't end up in trouble. 


But that thought caused a pang of pain in Erestor.  The young elf had greatly looked forward to talking with Elrond.  Being alone for so long, Erestor desperately needed companionship.  And Elrond had seemed do nice.  He had shared his mark even though he didn't have to.


But Erestor had long ago lost his trust in people.  He had been too often hurt to put his faith in Lord Elrond.  He didn't know what to do.


****

A small fire battled the gloom in the dark study.  It didn't look nearly warm enough to the king's cold eyes, but he remained quiet.  Perhaps it was a little undignified for the High King of the Noldor to be hiding behind a bookshelf spying on his herald, but Gil-galad would do anything to protect his young cousin. 


Elrond, despite all he had suffered, was still rather naïve. Gil-galad was determined that no one took advantage of his cousin's kind nature, just as he had protected him today.  Though he would never admit it, Gil-galad may have been a little overzealous.  He would keep a close eye on the new servants to make sure Elrond wasn't overwhelmed.  But that was a problem for later.  At the moment, he was more interested in Elrond's new friend. 


He watched as his cousin paced nervously around the room.  The king sighed, reminded of the last time he had seen the half-elf pace, though it had been a decidedly more somber occasion.  Elrond had been waiting for his brother before Elros left to sail. 


Forcefully setting that painful memory aside, Gil-galad turned his attention to the door where the light had changed.  A shadow stood there hesitantly.  Elrond did not notice him at first.


The dark shadow hovered for a moment before obviously losing his nerve and moving to leave.  Gil-galad made a slight noise, which drew Elrond's attention.  Perhaps if he wasn't expecting someone and if there hadn't been a shadow standing in the door, the half-elf might have discovered his cousin.  But he did not, instead going to greet the shadow in the doorway. 


Caught, the shadow hesitantly entered the room, revealing a gaunt, nervous elfling.  "Um, hello," he said.  Gil-galad had to strain to hear him.  "Are you feeling better?" he asked shyly. 


Elrond smiled genuinely, moving to sit by the fire, which the king approved of.  "Yes, thank you.  My cousin had me take a long nap, so I feel very refreshed."  Gil-galad noticed that Elrond didn't refer to him by name or station.


The young elf remained standing, looking exceedingly nervous.  Elrond noticed.  "Is something wrong?" he asked.  Biting his lip, the dark elf refused to meet the half-elf's eyes.


"You're Lord Elrond," he whispered.  Gil-galad could see his cousin stiffen, but thankfully the dark elfling didn't notice since he wasn't looking at him. 


"Yes?" Elrond said as if he didn't understand what Erestor was getting at.  The king approved of the tactic.  It was obvious to him that Elrond hadn't told his new friend who he was, which eased Gil-galad's mind.  If the elfling hadn't known to whom he was speaking, then he couldn't be after the half-elf's prestige and connection to the king. 


Indeed, Erestor seemed a little intimidated and the king sensed no deception in it.  The dark elf swallowed nervously and his first word came out on a squeak.  Clearing his throat, he tried again.


"You, ah, you didn't mention that."  Elrond feigned surprise, but considering his nature, he didn't do very well.  His lip disappeared between his teeth, showing his nervousness. 


"I didn't realize," he said quietly.  They were silent for a moment before Erestor sat down opposite the half-elf.  "Does it matter?" Elrond finally asked, looking up at the thin elf.  Erestor shrugged.


"I guess not, but…" Elrond arched an eyebrow as Erestor trailed off. 


"But?" he prompted.


"Well, you're the king's cousin," Erestor blurted out.  Gil-galad tensed. 


"And?" the half-elf prompted again, obviously not following.  Erestor appeared flustered; obviously he thought his argument was self-explanatory. 


"And you're his herald.  You must see him often."


Elrond nodded and frowned.  "Every day," he said, studying the elf before him.  "Do you want to meet him?"


"No!" Erestor squeaked.  Gil-galad grumbled silently.  Honestly, you'd think he was a Balrog the way some people behaved. 


Elrond smiled then, much to his cousin's annoyance.  "You're nervous about him.  There's no reason to be.  He's all bark and no bite," he said kindly.  Gil-galad rolled his eyes.


"I…" Erestor stuttered, looking truly frightened.  Elrond leaned forward and gently placed his hand on the elfling's trembling hand.  Erestor couldn't quite stop from flinching.  The half-elf gently squeezed his hand.


"You don't have to have anything to do with Ereinion if you don't want to.  I know he's a little intimidating but, I know he'll be interested to know my friends."


Now it was Erestor's turn to bite his lip.  Elrond moved to sit beside his new friend on the couch, wrapping a supportive arm around his bony shoulders.  Gil-galad watched it with some amazement.  He knew that Elrond liked physical expressions of affection but he rarely let a stranger touch him, certainly not after just meeting him.


"I think the best way to overcome your fear is to meet the king.  Why don't you have dinner with us tomorrow evening, just the three of us?  And if you're still not comfortable, he'll probably leave you alone since his curiosity's been satisfied."


Erestor still looked petrified.  Elrond patted his hand.  "Why don't you think on that?  I don't know about you, but I'm hungry.  I'll let you think while I get dinner."


The half-elf made to get up but was stopped by a slim hand on his elbow.  "No, I'll do it," Erestor said, finding his voice.  The dark elf managed a shaky smile.  "I can think on the way."


"If you're sure?" Erestor nodded and moved to the door, still looking a little troubled. 


Elrond sat back in his chair.  "Did you hear what you needed?" he asked without looking up.  Gil-galad chuckled, coming out from his hiding spot.


"It appears I'm caught," he said, walking to his cousin's side.


"Would you have the dinner?" the half-elf asked shyly.  Gil-galad smiled gently, kissing his cousin's forehead. 


"I'm looking forward to it."


"But-," Elrond began, but the king cut him off. 


"If he comes, he comes.  If not, we'll have a nice quiet dinner together.  Enjoy your evening, cousin."  He kissed him again and then left, looking forward to the dinner.  From his observations, the king felt sure the elfling would accept.


****

Elrond would've been bouncing if his cold hadn't kicked in.  After Gil-galad left, Erestor and he had spent a pleasant evening together.  His friend had eventually capitulated, accepting the dinner offer.  Erestor seemed to relax after that and they had spent the evening gossiping about the other librarians. 


They only stopped when Elrond began coughing again and Erestor had sent him to bed.  His coughing had passed, though it left him feeling weak and dizzy.  He looked forward to his cozy bed.  But when he opened the door to his room, he found someone waiting for him.  A slim she-elf looked up from stoking the fire.


"Good evening, my lord," she said politely.  It was probably because his head was stuffed up, but Elrond couldn't think of a thing to say.  "I've drawn you a bath, my lord," the maid prompted. 


Elrond blinked.  "Um, thank you…" he trailed off, not knowing her name.


"Tavaril," the maid supplied with a curtsy. 


"Tavaril," Elrond repeated, trying to commit the name to memory.  "And you are one of the servants Ereinion chose this morning?"  She curtsied again.


"Yes, sir."  The half-elf thought he should say something more, but he felt so tired.  He hardly knew what to say to a personal servant as he'd never really had one before.  Gil-galad had raised his cousins by himself, shunning the idea of a governess.


"Your night clothes are in the bathroom.  I will pick up your robes when you've finished," she said, turning to put another log on the fire. 


Elrond blinked, quite certain that she was supposed to be dismissed or something before dismissing him.  Shrugging, the half-elf trudged into the bathroom, not really wanting to have to dismiss her anyway.  Elrond quickly stripped and settled into the warm bath with a sigh.  He simply sat there for a moment before grabbing the soap and washing up.


As promised, robes were neatly piled.  Elrond picked it up, noticing that it was the silk set Gil-galad had insisted he have, but the half-elf never wore.  Too tired to argue at the moment, he put on the pants and nightshirt, and wrapped the robe around him tightly.


Hesitantly, he stepped into his bedroom.  Tavaril was turning down his bed.  She looked up when she heard him enter.


"Your bed's all ready for you," she said.  "And if you don't mind my saying, you look like you could use a bit of rest."


"I am rather tired," Elrond admitted.  Tavaril seemed to nod to herself and then disappeared into the bathroom.  A moment later, she returned. 


"Master Elrond?" she began, intending to ask what he wanted to wear on the morrow and if she should lay it out, but she found him already fast asleep.  The covers weren't quite pulled up, as if the half-elf had fallen asleep half way through lying down. 


Clucking motherly, Tavaril tucked her lord in and then proceeded to clean up the bathroom.


****

It was well after midnight when a nervous knock sounded on the door.  By this time, Tulcandil had relieved Tavaril and stood ready should Elrond need a servant during the night.  The large elf glared down at the young messenger. 


Overcoming his sudden surprise, the smaller elf tried to look around the imposing elf.  "Is Lord Elrond here?  He's needed in the infirmary right away."


"He's sleeping," Tulcandil said, his tone suggesting the young elf not bother him.


"Then you must wake him.  It's very serious!" the messenger insisted.  Tulcandil opened his mouth to tell the smaller elf to scram when a sleepy voice stopped him.


"It's alright." Tulcandil turned to see Elrond rubbing his eyes.  The half-elf had obviously dressed hastily, merely throwing an old robe over his night-clothing.  Swaying slightly Elrond moved to the door and gestured for the errand-elf to accompany him.


"What has happened?" Tulcandil heard Elrond ask.  Curious, the larger elf quickly followed the pair.  The young elf was going on about an accident, a fire had spread, weakening one of the winter shelters.  Several elves were burnt, but one in particular had also been caught under the structure when it fell and the healers needed Elrond's help with the injured elf.


In no time, they had reached the infirmary.  Cries of pain could be heard further in.  Tulcandil had never been to this part of the infirmary.  There were two large rooms with multiple beds separated by screens, used mostly for edain during the winter months. 


One hall was for females and the other for males.  Birthing chambers were near the corridor leading into the infirmary wing as that was the main business here.  Tulcandil followed the half-elf through this corridor, past rooms filled with herbs and books to large operating rooms in the back.


The half-elf opened the door and the screams intensified tenfold.  Both Tulcandil and the errand-elf winced, but Elrond paid it no mind.  Without thought to his clothes, he quickly joined the team of healers trying to restrain a boy.  Using his height, Tulcandil could clearly see the patient and his injuries.  The elf couldn't be but a handful of years away from his majority.


One of the healers was trying to press a compress to a nasty wound on the boy's shoulder, but it must've stung for the elf flinched and struggled away.  Tulcandil saw he suffered a very bad break to one leg and burns over half his body.  He watched as Elrond moved to the head of the patient, taking the compress from a colleague. 


Elrond spoke low, Tulcandil could not hear the words, before the half-elf gently lay a hand on the suffering elf's chest.  Almost instantly, the elfling relaxed sniffing tears away.  Elrond placed the compress on the wounded shoulder.  The patient jumped, but Elrond pressed his free hand gently to the good shoulder and the boy soothed.


Tulcandil watched as the skin around Elrond's hand glowed faintly gold, but the half-elf himself grew alarmingly pale.  To his amazement, the large elf saw the burned skin around Elrond's hand begin to smooth and grow a healthy pink, scratches and cuts stopped bleeding and knit together with hardly a scar.  But Tulcandil grew alarmed when he saw how Elrond swayed on his feet.


Around him, the healers moved quickly to secure the larger wounds, setting the bone and securely bandaging the shoulder wounds.  They bathed the burns in some kind of herbal oil.  All of this seemed to take no more than five minutes, time in which Elrond had coaxed the boy to blessed unconsciousness.  The half-elf looked as though he would soon join the boy.


Tulcandil scowled, seeing that no one was paying attention to his lord's health.  Clearly the half-elf should've let go.  The boy was no longer in danger or aware of his pain.  But Elrond could not bear anyone in pain and he knew he was shortening recovery time and lessening the likelihood of scarring.  Tulcandil strode into the room when he saw Elrond's eyes roll back into his head.


He arrived in time to catch his lord.  The half-elf barely weighed a thing as the large elf lifted him into his arms.  One of the healers, a stern looking creature, noticed this.


"Oh, you can take him to one of the convalescence rooms.  That's where he usually sleeps it off," the healer dismissed. 


"So, this fainting is not unusual?" Tulcandil asked.  The healer actually looked bored.


"He always faints after an operation," the healer sounded derisive.  Tulcandil's expression darkened.  Even though he knew nothing of healing, it was obvious to the servant that Elrond could do something that the other healers could not.  It angered him that such a gift should be taken for granted.


Making a note of the healer and the others in the room, Tulcandil carried Elrond back to the royal suites.  He took off the over-robe, which was now splattered in blood, but left the nightclothes in place.  Gently, he tucked the half-elf in bed.  Then he stoked the fire high and returned to his duty.


****

Tavaril and Cuandur arrived early the next morning.  Tulcandil was still rather angry about the previous evening.


"Good morning," Tavaril said, sounding chipper. 


"Didn't you work last night?" Tulcandil asked when he saw her.  She shrugged. 


"I switched with Ninde.  I wanted to have this evening off.  It's my eldest's conception-day."  Tulcandil merely grunted.  Cuandur set down a breakfast tray.


"He is not up yet?" he asked.  The larger elf shook his head.


"Nor do I expect him up any time soon."


"Why?" Tavaril asked.  "I know he looked very tired last night but it's already late morning.  Surely he's slept enough by now."  Tulcandil shook his head again.


"If he had slept through the night," he said. 


"Did he have a bad night?" she asked compassionately.


"He was called away late last night," Tulcandil said, proceeding to tell them about the healing and Elrond's fainting. 


"And they just let him faint?" Tavaril asked, glancing at the bedroom door. 


"If I hadn't caught him, they would've let him hit the ground," the large elf said.


"What if he hit his head on the floor or the table?" Tavaril demanded.  "What kind of healers do we have here!" The other two could only shrug, not having her mother's instinct so not getting as overwrought.


Just then the door opened revealing the king.  He raised an eyebrow when he saw the three of them just standing there.  Tavaril curtsied, Cuandur bowed, while Tulcandil simply stared challengingly at the king.


"My cousin is not yet up?" he asked, looking at the closed door to the bedroom.


"No, sir," Tavaril said, an edge to her voice.  The king's eyebrow rose a little higher at her tone.  Clearing his throat, Cuandur intervened.


"It seems he was called away last night, my king," he said decorously.  Gil-galad's expression darkened.


"By whom?" he demanded quietly. 


"The healers," Tulcandil said.


"What happened?"


"A fire, apparently," the larger elf said with a calm that masked his own disgust.  Gil-galad scowled and walked out to the hallway.


"Unduion!" he called, knowing that Elrond couldn't hear it and so wouldn't be disturbed.  The other three servants were amazed at how quickly Unduion appeared at his king's elbow.


"Your majesty?" he asked, glancing at the three standing in Elrond's sitting room.


"Go fetch Calmo and my chief advisor immediately," the king commanded.


"He needn't bother for me," a voice called from the doorway.  The group turned to see the head healer.  Gil-galad gestured with his head to dismiss Unduion and then turned to the shorter elf.


"What's this I hear of a fire?" he demanded coldly.


"I don't know a thing about the fire, my king, just the injuries," Calmo said.  Gil-galad noticed an annoyed tick in his friend's cheek, which was unusual for him.


"And why was I not informed of this last night then?  You certainly had time to wake my cousin."


Calmo scowled in turn.  "I didn't call him.  It was that idiot, Hereno, again.  He's too lazy to do anything himself.  He also didn't bother to wake me, and of course, the rest of my healers assumed he would.  The man's a nuisance.  I still say you ship him off to Círdan," the healer said and Gil-galad knew him well enough to see his frustration.


"I told him yesterday," the healer continued, "that Lord Elrond had a cold and not to bother him, but . . . well, you know how he feels about . . ." Calmo trailed off, a look bordering on disgust and trepidation on his face.  The others watched the king's expression harden to such coldness that they trembled.  None of them had seen the true warrior's anger in the king before, seen him truly angry instead of annoyed, save Calmo who remembered when the twins were returned to their people.  Gil-galad's anger had been terrifying, and then, as now, it had centered on protecting his young cousin. 


Clearing his throat nervously, Calmo shifted on his feet.  "Well, I thought I'd look in on Elrond to see if his cold was adversely affected by . . . um, performing a healing last night."


Shifting again, he waited for a reaction from his king before slowly heading to the inner door.  Tulcandil moved to open it for him, but Gil-galad's voice stopped them.


"Calmo, I want you to direct Hereno to my office once you're finished and I would see you afterwards."


"Yes, sir," the healer said obediently.


"Inform me when Elrond wakes, but leave him be to sleep until he's rested," the king told the servants before walking to the door where Unduion had shown up, the head advisor in tow.


"Why wasn't I informed of the fire?" the servants heard the king say before the door shut.  The four elves glanced at each other before Calmo sighed and went to see Elrond, Tulcandil at his heels. 


****

The half-elf woke late that afternoon, still feeling extraordinarily drained.  He was unsure what exactly had woken him.  After a moment, Elrond became aware of someone staring at him closely.  Opening his eyes, he found himself looking into the alert green eyes of a young boy sitting not three feet from him on his bed.  Elrond blinked in surprise.  The boy continued staring at him intently.


"Um, hello," Elrond said.  The little boy grinned, revealing large gaps of missing teeth.


"Hi!" he said brightly, and Elrond couldn't help but return the brilliant smile with a shy one of his own.  "You're finally awake!  You've been sleeping forever!"


Elrond's head snapped to the window.  "What time is it?" he asked, levering himself up on his elbows.  The little boy wrinkled his nose and shrugged.


"I've already had lunch," he said.  Elrond looked at him for a moment before sighing and letting himself sink back into the pillows.  He knew his king had a hand in his late rising.  Rolling his head to the side, Elrond studied the boy kneeling beside him.


"And what's your name?" he asked kindly.


"Ristar, sir," the boy said promptly. 


"Ristar," the half-elf repeated, committing the name to memory.  "And do you always greet strange elves when they wake?" he asked lightly.


The little boy giggled.  "Mommy told me to stay put and I thought you'd like some company."


Elrond smiled.  "Thank you.  Now, who's your mother?"


"Tavl'l," Ristar lisped.  Remembering the maid from the previous night, the half-elf nodded.  Then, he closed his eyes, willing the headache from his cold to leave him.


"Are you alright?" the little voice asked in concern.  Elrond managed a reassuring smile.


"Just a little sick, but I'll be fine.  Don't worry," he responded.


"Are you going to go back to sleep?"  Elrond could hear the amazement in Ristar's voice.  He smirked.


"No."  Rubbing his eyes, he sat up leaning his back against the headboard.  "Are you stuck here all day?" he asked the little boy.  Ristar shrugged.


"My brother's having his conception-day today and we're going to celebrate it when he comes back from patrol."


"He's a guard then?" Elrond asked.  The boy nodded.  "How old will he be?"


Ristar had to think about this.  "Seventy-eight," he finally said.  "I think." Elrond smiled.


"And when is your next conception day?"


"The forty-third of Lairë," Ristar said promptly, causing the half-elf's smile to widen.


"And how old will you be?"


"Nine, sir."


"Practically grown up," Elrond said.  The boy nodded firmly.


"Yes, I am.  Would you tell my mom and dad that?" A bark of laughter escaped Elrond.  Reaching out, he ruffled the little boy's hair, who grinned impishly at him.


Elrond pushed the covers aside and stood up.  He stretched, debating on a bath.  Deciding it could wait until after breakfast (or lunch as it were), Elrond grabbed his robe and wrapped it around himself.  The little boy watched him, and held his arms up when he saw Elrond would leave.  Without a thought, the half-elf picked him up and carried him into the sitting room.


He found a cheery fire blazing in the fireplace and a meal set on the table.  A male servant looked up at his entrance.


"Hello," Elrond greeted, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch and setting it in one of the chairs at his table.  He set the boy down on it before taking his own seat.


"Good afternoon, my lord," the servant said.


"I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced," Elrond said.


"My name is Cuandur, my lord," the elf said, bringing soup to the half-elf that had remained warm by the fire.


"You needn't call me lord.  Elrond is fine."


"As you wish, my lord," the elf responded.  Elrond sighed, but didn't say anything, concentrating on his meal. 


One taste of the soup and the half-elf knew Calmo had visited.  He felt eyes upon him again.  The boy was watching him intently, but every once in a while he glanced at the sugar doughnuts sitting innocuously in the center of the table.  Smiling and remembering the appetite of growing boys, he took a small plate and added a few choice foods.  The half-elf placed the plate before the young boy, who needed no further encouragement to start eating.  Elrond looked on with amusement.  Cuandur snorted but returned to his work.  The half-elf ate silently for a moment.


"Cuandur?  Who attended me last night?" he asked.


"That would be Tulcandil, my lord," the elf responded.


"And when will he next work?" Elrond asked, sipping his tea.


"This evening again, I believe."  The half-elf nodded absently, returning to his thoughts.  A few minutes later, Tavaril returned from wherever she had gone.  Her eyes widened when she saw her son at her lord's table munching on sweets.


"Ristar!" she scolded and the little boy turned owl eyes towards her, instinctively hiding his doughnut behind his back, which amused Elrond and Cuandur.  "What are you doing?" Tavaril demanded.  "I told you not to bother Lord Elrond."


"He is not bothering me," the half-elf said soothingly.  "I invited him to keep me company."  He smiled winningly at the little boy, who grinned back.  Tavaril humphed, crossing her arms over her chest, though her flustered state left.


"That hardly gives him the right to steal your lunch," she said, giving her son a disapproving look.  He gave her a guilty grin, but didn't look apologetic.


"I offered that too.  I'm sure he'll appreciate it more than I would," Elrond said, coming to the boy's rescue.  Ristar smiled in appreciation.  Tavaril humphed again but let the matter drop turning instead to scowl as her son itched his arm.


"If you keep scratching, it will never heal," she said, pulling his arm away from a long scrape on his arm.  Elrond glanced at the wound.  It looked like any other childhood cut, probably obtained while climbing a tree.


"But it itches, momma," Ristar said, moving to rub his arm against the coarse fabric of his pants.  Elrond could see that his arm was already pink and the wound was an angry red, which meant it was still rather fresh.


"Here, let me," he said, gently taking the injured arm in his hand.  A slight frown appeared on his face even as the arm glowed dully.  The other three watched in amazement as the wound healed itself in a second.  Elrond blinked wearily when it was done, but smiled kindly.


"There, all better," he said, picking up his teacup.  The other three looked stunned.  Ristar was the first to recover, not giving any great thought to the unusual deed performed.


"Thanks," he said enthusiastically, reaching for his doughnut.  His reaction freed the other two servants, who glanced at each other.  Cuandur shrugged and went to the fire.  Tavaril humphed again but moved to put away the laundry.


"Would either of you like to join us too?" Elrond asked.  Both servants looked shocked and Elrond blinked in surprise, glancing at the little boy, who merely shrugged and began munching again.


Tavaril recovered from her shock first and smiled kindly at her lord.  "Thank you but we've already eaten."  She gave her son another pointed stare, but he remained pleasantly oblivious.  She clucked her tongue but left them be.  Once ‘breakfast' was over, the half-elf took a bath and dressed for the day.  He left to seek out his king.


****

The High King watched his cousin with amusement.  Elrond could barely keep still.  They waited in Gil-galad's study where a cozy table was set for dinner.  Usually Gil-galad ate in the main hall, but occasionally he indulged in a peaceful meal with his cousin or other close friends.


Now they waited for Erestor to show up.  The young elf was not yet late, but it was getting close when the door finally opened.  One of Gil-galad's personal guards, Manedil, had escorted the elfling to the room and now gave him a gentle shove into the room.  Elrond smiled and stood to greet his new friend.  The king watched them, noticing the frightened glances Erestor kept giving him.


"And this is my cousin," Elrond said after a moment, tugging Erestor further into the room.  Gil-galad stood gracefully.


"It's a pleasure to finally meet you.  Elrond's spoken of nothing else," the king said.  Elrond responded with a nervous smile.  The half-elf ushered Erestor to the table.  It amused Gil-galad to see his shy cousin take charge.


Elrond began talking, trying to put his friend at ease.  Gil-galad watched the elfling push his food around his plate, now very much not looking at the king.  He answered Elrond's questions with nods or shakes or very quiet whispers. 


When Elrond finally gave up, seeing that Erestor wouldn't calm down, he looked beseechingly at his cousin.  Gil-galad smiled reassuringly.  "Erestor," he said quietly, forcing the young elf to look at him.  "There's no reason to be nervous.  I'm not here to judge you.  I just want to meet my cousin's friend."


"Why?" Erestor asked bravely.  Gil-galad was a little surprised that the timid elfling would speak up, and he saw Erestor pale as though he had only meant to think that.  The king smiled, pleased.


"Because I do not wish to see my cousin hurt.  I would not have him penalized merely for being related to me."  Erestor and Elrond both frowned.


"What do you mean?" the elfling asked, opening up a bit with curiosity.  The king's smile turned sad.


"There are some unscrupulous people in this world who would do anything for power or favor.  They would not think twice about using my cousin's affections to get into my good graces.  I will not stand for that.  My concern is that Elrond's friends are interested in him, not me."


"But I wouldn't do that," Erestor protested.  "I don't want anything to do with you," he blurted out, but then flushed when he realized what he had said.  Gil-galad's grin widened.


"Yes, I know," he said gently.  "You give me very little cause for concern.  In fact, I'm quite glad Elrond's made your acquaintance."


Erestor's flush deepened with embarrassment but he seemed a little less intimidated and more relaxed.  "Now," Gil-galad said.  "Shall we have dessert?  I trust that's why you've been saving your appetite."


Erestor blinked and looked down at his plate, seeing that Elrond and the king's were mostly empty while his had barely been touched.  He blushed prettily, but nodded shyly.  Laughing, Gil-galad signaled for dessert to be brought.


Dinner proceeded more smoothly until Gil-galad asked, "So, Erestor, tell me about yourself."  The young elf tensed and Gil-galad fought the urge to roll his eyes.  "I'm not interrogating you.  You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to.  I just want to know you better so that we have something to talk about should we ever see each other again.  And since Elrond is my cousin and herald, it's fair to say that might happen."


Erestor glanced at Elrond, who smiled reassuringly.  Taking comfort from him, the young elf met Gil-galad's eyes.  "Well, I was born on the road.  My mother was Teleri from Círdan's haven of Eglarest, but was forced to flee after the . . . um, Dark Lord attacked.  She and a few others escaped through the Taur-en-Faroth and wandered for many years.  But my mother became separated from her kin and would likely have perished if my father had not found her.  My father is of Avari descent and had lived wild for most of his life.  It was well for them that he had, for it was so dangerous for so long in that region that there were few places of safety, but Fi-, er, my father knew best the ways of the land and knew how to hide so he kept my mother safe.


"After several long years, I was born, but . . . it was very hard on my mother, especially with no rest afterwards, and the fear of attacks, well . . . she died when I was thirteen.  A-after that, my father and I lived in the wilds," Erestor said.  Gil-galad caught the shiver that went down his spine, but said nothing.  "Um, but when I was around forty, we were separated and . . . I do not think my father survived."


The young elf bit his lip.  "I spent a few years in the wild before coming upon a group of traveling edain.  They brought me here."


"Ah, the gypsies that came here before winter," Gil-galad said.  Erestor nodded, watching the king take a bite of his cake.  "May I ask you a personal question?" Erestor tensed but nodded.


"Elrond tells me you have a passion for knowledge to equal his own, and yet, it does not seem you would have had access to much written material."


"Oh!" and Gil-galad could see the light of excitement in his unusual chocolate eyes.  It was the same light Elrond had when he talked about books or healing.  "My mother taught me to write in dirt and she had two books, one of sea songs and poetry and one on ships that I used to read, and I loved them.  I always wanted to read others."


"I trust you've utilized our libraries then?" Gil-galad asked, though he knew it was a stupid question. 


"Oh, yes.  I've read all the books on the far shelves in the large library."


"And what books are housed there?" Gil-galad asked to keep the young elf's interest.  What followed was a rather complete listing of the books in the king's library.  Even as he was talking, Erestor's eyes glanced around the king's study.  It amused Gil-galad to no end. 


A glance at Elrond showed he was just as interested in Erestor's opinion of the library selection and could listen all night.  Pushing his plate aside, Gil-galad settled in for a long night.  Elrond managed to capture Erestor's attention and the king remained all but forgotten.  He did not mind, seeing how happy both his cousin and the elfling were. 


It was an hour later that the king decided his presence was no longer necessary.  When the other elves broke for breath, he stood.  "Forgive me for the interruption, but I have work to do.  It was a pleasure to meet you, Erestor, and I hope to see you again." 


He walked behind Elrond's chair.  "You are still ill.  Don't stay up too late."


"Ereinion-" Elrond began, rolling his eyes at his cousin's protectiveness.  Gil-galad chuckled and kissed the crown of Elrond's head.


"Good night," he said and left.  Erestor watched him go.


"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Elrond asked, watching his new friend.  The young elf nodded shyly.  They sat in silence for a moment before Elrond stood, tugging Erestor up with him.  "Why don't we move our conversation to my rooms?"


With Erestor's approval, Elrond led him towards his rooms.  He opened the door to his sitting room but stopped short when he saw a lovely red-headed woman waiting for him.


"Hello…?" he asked, a little startled.


"Ninde, my lord," she said, eyeing the two shy elves.  Elrond looked thoughtful.


"Ninde," he repeated.  "Tavaril, Tulcandil, and Cuandur."  The half-elf looked at the maid, a worried frown wrinkling his forehead.  "Is there anyone else?"


"No, my lord," the maid replied, letting her eyes roam over them.  Neither noticed.


"Good." Elrond looked relieved, nodding dismissively to her.  "I still think it's silly," he muttered as he walked to his bedroom, Erestor following.


"What's silly?" the younger elf asked.


"Oh, Ereinion chose new servants for me yesterday, which is fine, but he's given me four people and I hardly have enough work for one.  But the ‘king' was most adamant."  He shrugged. 


Erestor had no idea how to respond to that.  It was so far beyond his own problems, but he knew he would be nervous if he had people waiting on his every command, seeing how he passed every second of every day.  Erestor thought Elrond probably felt the same. 


The half-elf led them to a pair of chairs by the fire.  Erestor looked around.  He had been a little surprised at how close Elrond's rooms were to the king's, though he supposed he shouldn't be. 


The rooms were spacious, a large bed commanding the space.  The closet doors and bookcases were made of beautiful mahogany.  Rich tapestries covered the walls, keeping the chill out.  The thing that drew his eye were the large bookcases on either side of the room.  They did not hold only books but other mementos too.  Of course, there had been far more books in Elrond's sitting room, but Erestor was still awed. He wanted nothing but to browse the titles.  Elrond watched him with amusement, knowing he himself was no better.


"So, what did you think of the king?" he asked.  Erestor's head snapped back, a slight color to his pale cheeks.


"He seemed nice," the younger elf said quietly, suddenly shy.  Elrond returned it with a brilliant one of his own.


"Yes, a bit over-protective but he means well."


"You're lucky to have him," Erestor whispered.  Elrond laid a gentle hand on the dark elf's arm.


"I know.  I wouldn't give him up for anything."  They sat in silence for a moment.  The half-elf bit his lip, obviously debating on asking his next question.


"I noticed that . . . when you spoke of your . . . father that you . . . well, the way you said . . . did he hurt you?" Elrond finally blurted out.  His expression was hesitant and uncertain.  Erestor fidgeted, not meeting his friend's eyes.  "If you don't want to answer-," Elrond said quickly, but Erestor shook his head.


"It's okay," the dark elf said quickly.  He glanced away.  "Yes . . . he hurt me," Erestor said simply.  Elrond didn't need to ask more, seeing a familiar pain in his eyes. 


An uneasy silence descended upon them.  The younger elf fiddled with his sleeves, wanting to ask his own personal question.  It took him a few minutes to gather his courage.


"Um, I've read some things about you, or rather . . . about your family.  Your abduction, er, kidnapping . . . was it the Fëanorians who hurt you?" he asked in a rush.  Elrond sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful, though a shadow of pain lay in his eyes.


"Yes and no.  If you mean was it Maedhros or Maglor who hurt me because of my mark, then the answer is no.  When they took my brother and me, they were not kind, but they were angry because they had lost their jewel.  I think Maglor gave us to others to be raised in order to protect us from their anger."  Elrond let out a mirthless snort.  "But their people were as mad as they.  Our . . . caretakers were the ones who . . . hurt us.  They separated my brother and I," Elrond said, his expression darkening here for a moment before he continued on quickly.


"When Maedhros and Maglor found out, they stopped it.  I think Maglor felt so guilty about it that that was why he let us go."  Elrond shrugged, trying to exude an air of nonchalance for Erestor's sake, though he did not quite succeed. 


"Was it rape?" Erestor asked, needing to know.  The barest nod was his only answer.  Elrond looked up, tilting his head by way of asking the same question.  Erestor tensed and looked away, his answer equally unmistakable to Elrond's trained eye. 


The uneasy silence returned.  It felt oppressive.  Clearing his throat, Elrond stood and walked over to his bookcase.  He looked over the titles before choosing one.


"Here," he said, handing the book to his new friend.  "This is for you."


Erestor's eyes widened as he looked back and forth between Elrond and the book.  "I-I can't," he squeaked, trying to give the book back. 


"Yes, you can," Elrond interrupted, pushing the book back towards Erestor.  "I want you to have it."


"But-"


"Don't worry.  I have a copy.  I think you'll enjoy it," Elrond said.  Erestor blinked, seeing Elrond's expectant face.  He saw that arguing would be fruitless.  Gently caressing the book, he carefully opened it.


It was a book of recent Teleri poems from a young poet just starting to make a name for herself.  His eyes moistened.  "Thank you," he whispered, looking gratefully at his friend.  Elrond smiled warmly.


"Have you had a chance to practice your writing since you got here?" he enquired.  Erestor shrugged, clutching his book tightly to his chest.  "Would you like to?" Elrond persisted, moving to get a stack of clean parchment and a bottle of ink.  He set the items on the low table between them.  Erestor looked at them with awe.


"I d-don't deserve this.  Why are you being so nice?" Erestor could hardly believe his luck. 


It was Elrond's turn to shrug.  "I know what it's like to be in a new place with strange elves and customs, and you feel out of place.  I was lucky because I had Ereinion to look after me, and my brother was here.  I . . . well, it would be nice to have someone to talk with about my interests.  My cousin tries his best, but he just isn't interested in history the way I am."  He shrugged again, not really knowing what to say.


They were silent again, Erestor gently caressing his new book.  Finally, Elrond leaned back into his comfortable chair.


"So, tell me about the books your mother left you.  I don't think I've seen them before."  Erestor smiled and began to quote poetry.


****

"Círdan , welcome," Gil-galad said, rising to embrace his foster father and old friend.  The Shipwright returned the embrace gladly. 


"Where's my favorite elfling?" the gruff elf asked. 


"Researching with his new friend," the king replied, gesturing for the older elf to take a seat.  Círdan canted an eyebrow.


"Anyone I know?" he asked, a note of protectiveness in his voice.  Gil-galad grinned.


"No need to worry.  Erestor's as sweet as Elrond and just as shy.  I'd offer to introduce you, but he'd probably explode in embarrassment."  Círdan grunted and declined the cup of tea his foster son offered him.


"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" the king asked, pouring himself a cup.  He looked up sharply at the Shipwright's heavy sigh. 


"I'm afraid it will not be of much pleasure once I tell you what I have come to tell you."


Gil-galad's expression turned serious.  "What is it?" he enquired. 


"Do you remember the healer you sent me a few months ago, Hereno?" the elder elf asked.  Gil-galad nodded.  A look of irritation passed over Círdan's face.  "Thank you by the way," he said sarcastically.


"Not a problem," the king responded lightly, a smirk on his face.  Growing serious again, Círdan sat back in his chair.


"I've received numerous complaints from both men and elves about his prejudices towards the Secondborn.  He's gotten far worse since he moved to the Havens.  We don't have that many travelers, save the occasional Númenorian, but Hereno makes a point to seek them out and verbally assault them."


"This is, of course, upsetting," Gil-galad said slowly, setting down his teacup.  "But I fail to see what it has to do with me?" Círdan sighed again.


"A week ago, Hereno was seen in a bar, drunk, and spouting off that the current Númenorian ambassador has ordered five hundred sets of elven armor." 


Gil-galad sat up straight.  "How could he know that?" he barked.  Círdan spread his hands in a placating manner.


"That would be where your problem is.  I interrogated the elf, once he was sober," the Shipwright sneered.  "He said a friend of his was supplying him with information from Lindon."


"Who?" the High King demanded, his voice ice cold.  Círdan hesitated for a moment and then let out another sigh. 


"Nessimon," he said quietly. 


Gil-galad remained every still, but to someone who knew him so well, as Círdan did, he could see the king was practically seething with rage.  It was several very long, very tense moments before Gil-galad yelled for Unduion.


****

"What do you suppose he wants?" Erestor asked, wringing his hands nervously.  Elrond shrugged unhelpfully. 


"He didn't tell me," he said, watching Erestor pace in the mirror.  The half-elf tried to turn but Tulcandil forcefully turned him back, restarting his braid.  Elrond flashed him an apologetic smile and obediently sat still while he finished styling his long dark hair.


Tulcandil quickly finished, letting him go to his friend.  The large elf merely shook his head at the two, moving to put away Elrond's sleeping robes.  Elrond approached his nervous friend, catching his hand thus forcing him to pay attention to the half-elf.


"I don't understand why you're so nervous," Elrond said truthfully.  "You and Ereinion have been getting along so well lately.  You barely blush half the time now.  Surely you know my cousin wouldn't ask you to do anything you don't want to do, and he certainly won't force you to do it."


"But-"


"Erestor," Elrond said firmly, letting his hands rest on the dark elf's slim shoulders.  "I'll be right beside you.  Now, should we go to breakfast?" he asked brightly.


Erestor hesitated, and Elrond sighed.  "Do you want to see Ereinion right now and get it over with?" he asked.  Erestor nodded firmly.  Elrond sighed again, but gestured his friend out.  The younger elf was practically bouncing with nervous energy.  He stopped just outside the king's door.  Elrond rolled his eyes and knocked politely.


"Enter," Gil-galad's strong voice boomed.  Elrond opened the door, pulling Erestor in after him when the dark elf hesitated.  The king looked up from his desk and smiled at them.


"Elfling!" a great voice boomed before Gil-galad could greet them.  Elrond turned, smiling brightly when he saw Círdan by the fireplace.  The Shipwright set down his tea, rose and drew the half-elf into a bear hug, which Elrond heartily returned.


"Círdan!  I didn't know you were here.  Did you just arrive?" the half-elf asked, leaning into the elder elf's embrace.


"Just yesterday, but I've been busy.  I'm leaving soon but I wanted to see you before I went."


"You're leaving already?" Elrond couldn't hide his disappointment.  Círdan tugged Elrond's braid affectionately.


"I'm afraid so.  The fishing fleet will leave soon, but I promise to return when the fleet comes home."


Elrond frowned, glancing at Gil-galad.  "The fleet leaves in a few weeks, doesn't it?" he asked.  The king nodded.  "What could be so important to take you from that?"  Growing up in Sirion and Balar, Elrond knew how the sea worked and its needs.  There was always a lot to do before the fleet could get under way and there was a specific window of time where the ships had to leave if they were to get back before winter.  Before that, Círdan had to look over his ships and equipment, map out routes and decide on crews. 


Círdan glanced at Gil-galad, who was looking at the nervous Erestor.  The dark elf had lingered near the door.


"I take it you came to hear my proposal," the king said, having learned the young elf's habits well over the last few months.  Erestor nodded nervously, glancing quickly at Círdan.  "Ah, forgive me.  This is Círdan.  Círdan, this is Elrond's friend Erestor," Gil-galad said nonchalantly. 


"Pleasure to meet you," Círdan said, moving to grasp Erestor's wrist in a soldier's greeting.  It was foreign to the young librarian who returned the gesture awkwardly.  Círdan took no notice, putting a friendly arm around Elrond's shoulders.  He looked at his foster son for what to do next.  Gil-galad gestured for the group to go to the study.


"I would guess you were too nervous for breakfast," the king said, calling for Unduion to bring food.  They settled around the table, Erestor wedged between Gil-galad and Elrond, but across from the silent sea-elf.  Erestor ducked his head, trying not to catch the lord's eye.  Under the table, Elrond found his hand and squeezed.  Unfolding his napkin, Gil-galad pretended not to notice Erestor's unease.


"Círdan is here because he has received some . . . unfortunate news," the king said, ignoring the stern look Círdan was giving him.  He knew his foster father's mind, that Elrond had no need to learn about the continuing prejudice against him.


"Nothing too serious, I hope," Elrond said, munching on a piece of toast.


"It is serious for me," Gil-galad said gravely.  "Círdan brings word that one of my advisors has been providing confidential information to unsecured persons."


Elrond blinked.  "Really?" he asked.  His cousin nodded.  "Who would do such a thing?  Has he revealed anything serious?"


Both Círdan and Gil-galad shook their heads in the negative.  "So far only mischief has been done.  But, as I'm sure you'll agree, this is quite serious," Gil-galad continued.  Elrond nodded.


"Who-?" he asked again, but Gil-galad held up his hand.


"You will learn that later today.  I have no choice but to let the advisor go and to make this public so that no other of my people feels so tempted to divulge my business."  There was a hard edge to the king's voice, and Erestor shivered.  Reining in his emotions, Gil-galad forced a smile on his face for the benefit of the younger elves.


"So," he said.  "I now have an opening among my advisors.  What do you say, Erestor?  Would you like to work as an advisor?"  Erestor's eye grew huge and he glanced at Elrond several times.  The half-elf was just as surprised though pleased. 


"But-," Erestor sputtered, unsure what to say.  He took a moment to recover.  Finally, he looked the king in his ice-blue eyes.  "I don't know anything about advising," he said.


Gil-galad smiled kindly.  "Few people do when they start.  I do not expect you to become Chief Advisor over night," he said with amusement.


"Then what. . .?" his voice trailed off, nervous to be the focus of attention.  Gil-galad sipped his tea.


"I want you to join Elrond as a junior advisor to Lemenyo, one of my father's advisors.  Elrond will be promoted to an associate advisor."  Elrond sighed wearily at this.  "But I think everyone would be happier if he continued to check in with Lemenyo." 


The king grabbed a roll, spreading jam on it and then shoved it into Erestor's absent hands.  He had taken the dark elf under his wing along side his cousin, feeling both were too thin.  Gil-galad felt the two were well suited for each other, worrying about the other and accepting their own care to appease their friend.  It pleased the king immensely.


Erestor munched on the roll absently, glad not to respond right away.  He caught Elrond's eye.  The half-elf smiled brilliantly and Erestor knew he would accept the king's offer.  It would be nice to spend even more time with his friend.   


THE END

******

A/N: Obviously, neither Elrond nor Erestor were ever abused nor is there any mention of prejudice against half-elves.

 I’ve chosen to use Gil-galad's parentage from The Silmarillion.  Thus, he is the son of Fingon and not descended from Finarfin or any of the other possibilities out there.  

 If you wish to see the layout of the royal suites, you can see it here and here.

 And, of course, Calmo, Tavaril, Ristar, Ninde, Tulcandil, Unduion, Cuandur and the other servants are my creations.  They don't belong to Tolkien.  Please don't use without permission. 

 If I've forgotten anything or you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.

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