Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter.

Chapter 9: Trust

Celebrían felt the tears sliding down her cheeks and brushed them away angrily. She turned on to her side, allowing her gaze to settle on the darkness of the river and the trees beyond it.  She had lain brooding for hours over Elrond’s refusal to allow her to cross the river after him, his choice preventing her from being with her children.  Behind her, she could hear faint sounds of the guards on watch, and she felt Erestor’s hovering presence, even though he spoke no words.  Feeling desperate to gain control of her emotions, she sought for the bonds with her children.  They were all well, and she even sensed peace about them that stemmed from their father’s nearness. A soft sigh escaped her as she realized how glad she was that he was with them.  A small voice of anger spoke within, though, reminding her that they would be even better if she were with them too.

Elrond’s calmness was frustrating too! He had been aloof from her the entire time he was providing aid to Elrohir and Arwen, and then when they were well, he came to her, seeking to comfort her while ignoring her anger.  She drew in a deep breath. Be logical, Celebrían, she reminded herself. You knew when you married Elrond that he was logical and calm and pushed emotion aside at need.  Suddenly, she laughed. Not loudly, but enough that she heard several elves near her come to attention.  It is the middle of the night and I am arguing with myself over whether my husband is too logical and whether he is giving proper attention to my anger. She stifled a giggle.  I think I will shelf my wrath and merely push him into the mud when I see him.  That will free my mind for more important thoughts now and give me something to look forward to, for I will enjoy cleaning him up afterward.  She smiled and lay quietly for a few moments, feeling her muscles relax. After I hold my children, she amended her thought.  She concentrated for a moment on each child, and then felt for Elrond.  He was sleeping. She pictured him in her thought, for she had always been moved by the sight of him so vulnerable, and tenderness washed over her.  I love you too, Elrond, she whispered.

* * *

The scouts returned by mid-morning with news that they would be able to cross the Bruinen without having to return to the Fords near Imladris.  The water was high all along the lands of the Angle that were surrounded by the two rivers, but at one particular spot along the Bruinen the walls of the river rose dramatically and the river narrowed, and the elves would be able to build a bridge over the canyon below them. Erestor listened carefully to the details, but noted that Celebrían’s attention was only partially on the captain.  Her eyes were again turned to the northwest, and her heart to her children.

“We hope to complete the task tonight and cross tomorrow,” finished Athranen.

Celebrían swirled around, her silver hair flying about.  “Tomorrow?  Did you say tomorrow?”

Erestor nodded to Athranen, and then turned to Celebrían.  He gently touched her elbow. “Already the scouts are gathering small timbers to form the platform of the bridge, and planning rigging for the ropes that will bind the logs together and form a guide rail. We will join them in just a few hours and more hands will further speed the work.”

He looked into her eyes, and saw the pain and frustration that filled her, and then, slowly, her gaze softened and her shoulders slumped in acquiescence. 

“My head knows that it will be many days until I see my children, yet my heart refuses to believe this is so.  Never have I been apart from my daughter. From the moment she was conceived to that day in Imladris, she had never been beyond my reach.  I never thought to have an ache such as this,” admitted Celebrían, despair in her voice.

She turned away from him then, alone in her grief, and he was silent as she re-mounted her horse and waited for the signal to ride. He took up a position near her, and they continued southeast to the planned crossing.

They reached the waters of the Bruinen by early afternoon.  Erestor saw a sudden smile cross Celebrían’s face, and then she was sliding off her horse and running forward to the edge of the cliff. She lifted an arm in greeting to those before her and then, wrapping both arms about her middle, hugged herself as she laughed in joy.  For work on the small bridge was well in progress from both sides, aid from Imladris having arrived while they were traveling.  While the time saved was perhaps minimal, the lift it gave to Celebrían’s spirit made it worth much more than the simple savings of time.

* * *

Garthon had ridden hard for several days, stopping only to rest the horse when needed, and at night he allowed a few hours respite for himself as well.  He had left with great haste, yet on the second day he felt a sudden peace that the situation of the children of his lord was not so dire as it had been.  Yet he kept on, and now on the morning of the fourth day, he sat on his horse near the marshland of the Nin-in-Eilph, called the Swanfleet by Men.  He was within sight of the city of Tharbad and the bridge from The Greenway, built by the Men of the West to connect their Kingdoms in Arnor and Gondor.  He had never ridden this far south on the west side of the river, and he took a few moments to assess the landscape and layout of the city before him.  Its walls were stockades built of timber, protection from the attacks of the Dunlendings, men never wholly tamed and never allies of the Dúnedain.

The River Glanduin mixed with the waters of the Hoarwell near where he now stood, and the roar of the waters filled the air. He could see that the waters were high at Tharbad, but the flat lands of the Swanfleet and those to the south of the city spread out the volume of water over a greater land mass, lessening the burden on the riverbed.

“Come, Amlug, let us visit this city of Men,” he whispered to his horse. Even as he spoke the name, he was reminded of his mission, for it had been a very young Arwen who had named this particular horse.  Arwen had been in the barn and met the young colt as he stepped out in the cold.  His breath had left a white mist, and he had whinnied and shaken his head at such an abrupt introduction to the cool air.  Celebrían had lifted her tiny daughter so she could pet the latest addition to the stables, an early arrival. Arwen had soothed him and named him the mighty dragon for his misty breath, and the name had never been changed.  Garthon smiled fondly at the memory. Arwen was a sweet and generous child, and right now he wished for nothing more than to see her home safe and in her mother’s arms again.

He entered at the city gates, greeting the gatekeeper graciously and then giving word of the destroyed bridge to the north.

“The bridge on the Great East Road has been destroyed in the floodwaters. I seek passage across the bridge of Tharbad, that I might return north on the east side of the Bruinen,” he explained.

“Such news must be conveyed to the town mayor and then relayed north to King Eldacar.  I will escort you to the town hall,” answered the man.

“My return to the North is of the utmost urgency,” replied Garthon cautiously. “I may give these same words to your mayor or you may even do so yourself, but tarry I may not.”

The man eyed him suspiciously then, but Garthon met the look with his own unblinking gaze. The man could not bear to long meet his eyes, and soon turned away.

“I will not keep you from your mission,” the man finally replied.  He stepped aside and motioned Garthon through the wooden gates.

As Garthon again nudged his horse forward, he breathed an inward sigh of relief that he had not had to explain his mission further, nor admit that elves lay injured and poorly protected on the banks of the Hoarwell.  Although these Men were allies of Imladris, he would not disclose such information without permission from his captain or lord.

He passed quickly through the town, acknowledging those who nodded or waved to him as he passed.  Approaching the eastern gate, he felt his heart lift as he saw a banner fluttering in the breeze.  The banner of Amroth, King of Lorien, and now he could also see the special banner borne by Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel when they traveled. Lord Celeborn stepped forward as Garthon dismounted and walked forward to meet him.

“Lord Celeborn,” murmured Garthon as he bowed before the elf-Lord.

“You are from Imladris,” replied Celeborn as he motioned for the warrior to rise.

“Yes, my lord, and I seek to return there with all due haste. An unfortunate event has occurred, three days ago at the Last Bridge. Elrohir and Arwen are injured, and Glorfindel and Elladan remain with them.  I do not know if other aid has reached them, but Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían do not know that Arwen was stowed in our wagon.”

Garthon had watched Celeborn’s eyes widen as he quickly told his tale. He had been part of the guard that had escorted Celeborn and Galadriel on several occasions as they traveled between Imladris, the Havens and Lórien, and never had he seen Celeborn express emotion.  He saw surprise followed by fear at the words that his grandchildren had come to harm. Celeborn asked no further questions, however, and instead motioned for Garthon to walk with him to where the Lady Galadriel waited.

“Garthon, warrior of Imladris, tell me what mischance befell your travels and of the injuries to Arwen and Elrohir.”

Garthon calmed his own racing heart, for he had never been comfortable in the presence of the Lady of Light. Yet her voice was soothing and her words guided his telling of the story. He told her of their plans to travel to the Havens, the collapse of the Last Bridge, and Elrohir’s courage in his rescue of his sister, whose presence they only then discovered.  He told what he knew of their injuries, Elrohir’s condition having been quite grave when he departed.   Lastly he told them of how peace had come upon him while he rested during the night after the second day, and that he suspected that aid had reached them. As he finished, he had to lower his gaze from Galadriel’s face, for her smile was too much for him to bear.

“You have done well, Garthon of Imladris.  Part of this tragedy I saw in a vision, but we too have sensed that their need is no longer dire.  We will send word north to Imladris while we continue west and north to meet them.  You will guide us to where they camp.”

Garthon nodded and bowed his head, unsure if Galadriel had read the desire of his heart to return to those in need, but grateful none the less. He felt suddenly as if a burden had been lifted from him as Celeborn began quietly ordering north those he would send to ensure that news reached Imladris, and informing those at the city gates of their plans to continue through Tharbad.

* * *

Elrohir awoke to find Glorfindel stretched out near him, while his twin finished out the morning watch.  He lay silent, his gaze resting on the golden haired warrior beside him. Glorfindel’s story had surprised him in many ways, and he suddenly saw his father in a new light. Hearing stories from Glorfindel as a child had been different, for he had not the life experience to be able to imagine himself in his father’s place. Now he could try to do so, try to imagine how he would react to the people and situations his father faced. What must it have been like to serve King Gil-Galad, who from all accounts was very charismatic and charming; or be in the counsels of Círdan, one of the oldest elves? An elf I guess we will not be meeting any time soon, he interrupted himself soberly.  Or to meet Glorfindel for the first time, an elf renowned for his courage and bravery; re-embodied and sent back from Aman – and then find out this person plans to serve you?  I am suddenly very glad that I am Elrond’s son, and not Elrond himself, he decided. He had been born in a time of peace, to a house ruled by his father, where his oldest memories included not only his parents, but the family protector as well.  I suppose Elladan and I are more like Eärendil, who also would have known Glorfindel from birth. How ironic that in this we have more in common with a grandfather we never knew than with our own father.   Elrohir laughed then, not loudly, but enough that Glorfindel awoke.

“Good morning, Glorfindel.”

“Suliad, elfling,” replied Glorfindel as his eyes swept over Elrohir, one hand automatically reaching to touch Elrohir’s forehead as he took Elrohir’s hand in his other. To an observer, it might seem like a gentle caress, but it was also the touch of a healer assessing his patient.  Elrohir smiled patiently, for he knew when his father awoke, he would be subject to another examination more thorough than Glorfindel’s.  The smile turned into a grin as he met his brother’s eyes across the campfire, and he rolled his eyes as Elladan came to sit beside him, his hand also reaching for his brother’s head, a stroking caress that smoothed back his hair, touched his temple and cheek to see if he was too warm or too cool, then moved down his neck, checking if his pulse was too fast or too slow, and ended with his hand firmly held in the strength and warmth of his brother’s.

“What amuses you so early, brother?” asked Elladan, teasing in his voice.

“I am only thinking,” replied Elrohir. For all that he laughed at how alike he and Elladan were to their father and probably Glorfindel, having learned at their sides, he was grateful when Elladan immediately began to help him with needs he could not take care of himself.  He did not need to ask, he did not need to even state his need – for their father had taught them to anticipate such things. Elrohir recalled the first man he and Elladan had ever really known – a soldier named Albast.  He had been injured and cared for in the healing rooms of Imladris the same spring they were injured in the waterfall cave-in. He had eventually recovered and returned to his people, but the twins had seen him several times in their adult years.  On one of those visits, Albast had told them that coming home had been wonderful and strange; wonderful to be well, but strange having to learn to state his needs or prepare in advance himself, for in his months in Imladris everything he needed had been anticipated.

“Your mind is far from here, elfling,” said Glorfindel. “Of what are you thinking?”

“Do you remember Albast?” asked Elrohir as Elladan washed him with a warm cloth and changed the dressings on his wounds, the hands so gentle and soothing that he had to remind himself to stay aware and not drift off into elven dreams.

“The soldier you met when you really were an elfling,” replied Glorfindel, helping Elrohir sit so Elladan could tend his back and hair easily.  “Aye, I remember him.  Why is he in your thoughts today?”

“He said something once that I have always remembered.  He told me that during his time at Imladris, all of his needs had been anticipated.  I was just thinking now how glad I am that all my needs are anticipated, and how alike to Adar Elladan and I are, and to you in many ways, and why that is. I was also thinking about how Adar’s experiences were so different from our own, and what I might have thought if I met you suddenly one day, and you told me what you told Adar.”

Glorfindel’s musical laugh filled the small camp, joined by Elladan’s, waking Arwen and Elrond, while Elrohir stared at the two elves as if they were mad.  “I was not intending to be humorous,” he informed them.

Elladan had been brushing out Elrohir’s hair, and now pulled him back against his chest as he laughed.  “Elrohir, I am laughing because I know exactly what you mean!”

Glorfindel handed Elrohir a skin of water, still laughing. “Elfling, I am not sure how your mind connected all of those topics together, but your deep thought and utmost sincerity cannot be doubted.”

Elladan laughed all the harder at that, hugging Elrohir to him, but Elrohir glowered at Glorfindel much as he had done when he was but an elfling.  Glorfindel leaned over and kissed the top of his head.  “Knowing your life, I followed the threads and they were connected.  Perhaps I too am laughing because of that.”

Glorfindel rose, and with a last wink at Elrohir and Elladan, turned to see to his own morning ablutions.  A yawn caught Elrohir’s attention, and he turned to see his father approaching carrying a still sleepy Arwen.  She never had been one for early mornings, thought Elrohir. 

Elrond set Arwen in the arms of her brothers, where she snuggled in against Elladan who settled her carefully next to Elrohir.  She smiled at them before her eyes drifted close and she returned to sleep. Elrond looked down at his three children, his expression again unreadable.  He seemed to be thinking, and then bent down to adjust a bandage on Elrohir’s leg.  He smiled then, and though he addressed Elrohir, his eyes were on Elladan.

“Elrohir, you look much better this morning.  Elladan appears to have taken good care of you, so I will see to my self first and then start breakfast.  After that, I will want to at least listen to your breathing and check your leg.”

“Yes, Adar,” answered Elrohir with a smile.

The twins waited until Elrond had joined Glorfindel at the spring, and then Elrohir snorted, “That was painful, but he did it!”

Elladan grinned as he pretended to smack Elrohir on the side the head.  “Adar really wanted to check you over from head to toe himself.  He showed great restraint, and trust in me.”

Elrohir rolled his eyes.  “Do not start with the ‘I am oldest and Adar trusts me most’. . .!”

“Or what?” baited Elladan playfully. “I am sure you recall that I am the level-headed one, the one who rescues you, the one who. . ..”

“The one who is going to eat dirt when I am well enough to challenge you in unarmed combat,” interrupted Elrohir with a growl, turning slightly to see his twin.

Elladan laughed and pulled Elrohir back against him.  “I am glad you will be well enough soon to try,” he replied honestly.  “I cannot lose you, Elrohir. I could not bear it.”

“Nor I you,” replied Elrohir softly, pulling Elladan’s left arm tighter about him.  Elladan pulled Arwen to them as well, and she sighed and murmured in her sleep, but did not wake.

* * *

Elrond prepared the morning meal, a smile tugging on his lips as he listened to his children banter. The sound of their voices was something he had always treasured, yet it was seldom he heard all three voices together as he did now. He wished to examine Elrohir, but he also wished to show Elladan that he trusted his work and judgment.   Waiting until after breakfast was a slight concession to make, and the laughing of the twins as he had walked away told him they knew what he was doing.

“Elrohir will one day drown if I am not there to save him,” bragged Elladan.

“He was saving me this time, so it does not count,” Arwen defended Elrohir.

“You look like someone painted you with pink stripes,” teased Elladan, but not unkindly.  “Do they still hurt, Arwen?”

Elrond looked over to see all three inspecting the many healing cuts and scratches on Arwen.  His silk undertunic was so thin and transparent that it was easy to see that she did appear to have stripes on her abdomen and back.

“Not really,” she answered bravely.  “Not nearly so much as Elrohir’s leg.”

Elrohir tugged her gently to the side, so she lay with her head on the thigh of his uninjured leg.  “My leg is healing well enough.  Barely a twinge of pain now,” he reassured her.

“I wish Nana were here, though.  I think she must be lonely without us,” said Arwen softly.

Elrond closed his eyes and sighed.  If Arwen only knew the state Celebrían was in from being apart from her daughter!  His attention was drawn away by the sound of Glorfindel approaching from wherever he had been these last few minutes, and he watched as the warrior leapt over a large rock near the fire, landing gracefully in a sitting position in front of it. He leaned back on one elbow as he popped something into his mouth and then chewed it slowly, his face reflecting utter bliss and joy, and Elrond could swear he heard him purring.

Knowing that Glorfindel wanted him to ask what he was eating, Elrond resolved not to.  He continued his preparations, ignoring the sounds of Glorfindel relishing whatever it was he had found. Plop. He turned his head slightly at the sound of something hitting the bowl next to him, and he couldn’t help but exclaim his joy at the sight of the plump red strawberry before him.  Without thought, he grabbed the berry and ate it.  He heard his own purr of delight escape him before he could restrain it, but he did not care.  It was so sweet and juicy! He swallowed, and then turned to where Glorfindel sat grinning at him.

“Where did you get that?” he demanded.

“One just has to know where to look,” replied Glorfindel smoothly. “The scent alone is enough to draw the attention of a good hunter. Those with poor noses miss out on this sun-kissed goodness.” He finished speaking, and lifted another berry by its stem, lowering it slowly to his mouth.  He nipped the berry loose and chewed it with relish, then grinned at Elrond.

“Do you have more?”

“I have a few,” replied Glorfindel, glancing down at something off to his side.

Elrond grimaced and nearly bit his tongue to keep from responding unwisely.  “Do you plan on sharing?”

Glorfindel sat upright and looked over to where the three peredhil children were watching in amusement.  “I suppose I might share with Elrohir and Arwen, as they cannot go find their own.”

Elladan laughed out loud at that, and Elrond glared at him before turning back to Glorfindel.  “Fine.  Tell me where they are and I will go pick more.”

Glorfindel seemed to consider this for a moment, but then shook his head.  “No, it may be a number of days yet before we travel.  I intend to enjoy some each day we are here.”

Elrond found his anger growing, for he knew that Glorfindel was teasing him and trying to raise his ire.  Glorfindel knew strawberries were his favorite fruit and yet he behaved comically ingesting them and then declined to share with the rest of them. He drew in a deep breath before speaking. “As you wish.”

Elrond returned to his task and soon had a breakfast prepared that he thought would appeal to Elrohir, who had eaten little beyond a light broth and bits of lembas since he was injured.  He served his children first, helping Arwen to sit up comfortably and arranging dishes so Elladan could eat and help his twin.  Elrond watched as Arwen shifted slightly so that she was putting no strain on the healing gash that ran from ribs to thigh along her side. It was healing well and she had not voiced any complaints, but he could tell she favored that side. Once they were eating, he returned to the fire where Glorfindel still lounged, now with a thoughtful expression on his face.  Elrond fixed himself a plate, then paused and fixed one for Glorfindel as well.  Setting it before his friend, he then sat down to eat.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Glorfindel set his stash of juicy fruit next to his plate.  Elrond pointedly ignored the elf as he ate, but when he thought Glorfindel was not looking, he stabbed a strawberry with a fork and quickly stuffed it in his mouth.  He chewed it with some relish, and was just turning to look smugly at Glorfindel when he saw the elf raise both arms in the air and cheer.

“I win!” laughed Glorfindel in delight.

Across from them, Elladan buried his head in Elrohir’s hair as both laughed, chagrinned looks upon their fair faces. Elrond looked from his sons to Glorfindel, and then to Arwen, who sat grinning from ear to ear.  He shrugged, and then reached over and took the rest of the strawberries, and proceeded to eat them while ignoring Glorfindel and his children.  He did not know what the little bet had been about, but it did not matter when his favorite fruit awaited him.

“Adar, I am so surprised at you!” Elladan finally said, shaking his head.

“I knew he would do it!” replied Arwen.  “They are his favorites, and it was only Glorfindel.”

“Only Glorfindel?  Did you say only?” roared Glorfindel playfully.

Arwen shrieked in delight and pretend fear, hiding beneath Elladan’s arm. “But he knows you!” she giggled, trying to explain herself. “He doesn’t have to worry about you being mad at him!”

“Adar, I said your good manners would prevent you from taking something not offered to you,” chastised Elladan as he stroked Elrohir’s hair. “Stop laughing, Elrohir.”

 In his twin’s arms, Elrohir grimaced in pain, and Elrond knew the still healing ribs had made their presence known. “I am trying,” groaned Elrohir.  “Stop making me laugh!”

Elrond calmly finished his strawberries, his eyes twinkling as his children and Glorfindel argued.  He rose then, and kneeling down by Elrohir, helped him to lie flat. He smiled as he felt the pain leave his son as he ran his hands over the healing ribs and fading bruises, and was pleased to hear clear breath sounds as Elrohir inhaled and exhaled.  He then unwrapped the bandages covering the splint and gently felt the bones in his lower leg.  They, too, were healing well.  He rewrapped the linens and settled Elrohir comfortably.

“Properly provoked, your adar will take what he wants,” finished Glorfindel, and Elladan and Arwen both laughed at whatever the golden one had been whispering to them.

“Glorfindel, tell us what you thought when you first met Adar, and how you first provoked him, as you call it,” said Elladan.

Elrond continued his silence on the matter, and Glorfindel laughed at him, and sat down by Elrohir.  “Your adar was so serious . . ..” he began.

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Glorfindel lay upon his bed, his fingers unconsciously stroking the soft material of the coverlet beneath him.  He closed his eyes and soaked in the warmth of the sun shining through the open doors of his balcony, sighing in pleasure at the sensations evoked by touch.  He had been in Middle-earth for several weeks, learning about Lindon, its military capabilities and defenses by land and sea, and the relationship between Lindon’s leaders and the men, dwarves, and other elves with whom they associated.  Learning about Elrond and getting to know him had proved more difficult, however.   Glorfindel considered the half-elf thoughtfully, and decided that he was not frustrated.  He was reminded of something Círdan had said to him, of how Elrond was agreeable and friendly to all, making him a popular diplomat and aid to the King, but that few knew him well.  He chose his close friends carefully, and only with them did he share his private life and thoughts.  We do not need to be close friends for me to fulfill my duty, thought Glorfindel.  But he will need to learn to trust and depend upon me, and that means I will know more about him personally than he would normally share.  Such relationships take time, and time is something we have in abundance.  I can be patient.

A slow smile spread across his face as he thought back to the morning. Círdan had arrived early, and though he was not formally expected, everyone seemed to know he would be present.  His purpose became clear quite early when he stood and toasted Gil-Galad, and then gifted him with a carved ship inside a blown glass bottle.  Begetting day greetings and salutations had followed from those close to the King. Glorfindel had noticed that all had some sort of small gift for Gil-Galad, except Elrond.  His curiosity was piqued and he watched Elrond throughout the small celebration.  Elrond was his normal reserved self, watching all present, listening to all that was said.  Glorfindel had concluded that whatever Elrond had done to acknowledge the day had been done in private.  Suddenly he wondered how Elrond’s begetting day was spent – did he spend it with his close friends?  Have a small gathering in his private chambers? Was it public, due to his role as Gil-Galad’s herald and chief advisor? He became curious to know when the day was, and so had asked Elrond.

“When is your begetting day, Elrond?” he had asked conversationally.

Elrond had smiled, something Glorfindel noted, as the half-elf did not do so often. “My human heritage precludes knowing the exact date.”

Glorfindel had begun to ask what date was used instead, but Elrond had turned and left the room, a hint of the smile still on his face. Glorfindel had laughed aloud.  Trust Elrond to use this reason to ensure that his begetting day was not acknowledged, at least publicly!  Surely at least Círdan and Gil-Galad had chosen a date to use during his childhood, though.

Elrond controls most situations he is in, but in an understated way.  Most people do not realize that he has maneuvered them exactly where he wants them to go.  Instead, they believe it was their idea.  Glorfindel had pondered this for part of the afternoon, and now as he lay in the warmth of the setting sun a plan formed in his mind, almost of its own accord.  He would create a situation and not allow Elrond to lead him anywhere.  He was fascinated to see how his charge reacted when he was not in control.

* * *

It took several days to put his plan into action.  He learned from Gil-Galad that they had used Elrond and Elros’s day of birth in place of their conception day, and Glorfindel had readily discovered the date.  This information he would tuck away for future reference. He had also told Gil-Galad that he wished to borrow Elrond on a morning he normally appeared in court.  Gil-Galad had asked what for, and grinned when Glorfindel had said an experiment.

“Is Elrond aware of the experiment?” he had asked.

“No, my lord,” Glorfindel had replied with a smile.  “Elrond is the experiment.”

Gil-Galad laughed at Glorfindel.  “Do not be surprised, my friend, if you find your roles reversed by the end.”

“Perhaps,” he had answered. “That is indeed the reason for the experiment.”

Now he was ready to begin. It was early morning, and he knew Elrond would begin his day with a walk around the courtyard.  He would wander through the rose gardens then cross to the pavilions and walk back to the palace.  He typically spent a half to a full hour, depending on what was on schedule for the day.  Glorfindel sat on the ledge of the fountain in the courtyard, waiting.  He rose when Elrond walked down the palace stairs and walked to meet him.

“Good morning, Elrond,” he greeted the half-elf with a warm smile.

“Good morning, Glorfindel,” replied Elrond.

Elrond stood in place, waiting for Glorfindel to speak, as Glorfindel had neither fallen in step beside him nor continued past him. Glorfindel smiled inwardly and allowed the silence to continue just slightly longer than what was comfortable before continuing. “May I walk with you?”

Glorfindel knew how much Elrond enjoyed this time alone in the morning.  He came early, and walked in the quiet garden with only birdsong for company. He was purposefully invading Elrond’s private time.

“Of course,” answered Elrond, without pause.  He moved slightly to the side and continued on into the garden, expecting Glorfindel to fall into step with him. Glorfindel did so, but then gently began edging Elrond towards the side of the garden, away from his normal course.

“There is a beautiful new colt in the stables,” said Glorfindel. “He has much potential. Come, let us go see him.” As he spoke, Glorfindel touched Elrond lightly on the elbow, nudging him in the right direction. 

Elrond slowed, causing Glorfindel to have to adjust his stride.  In that brief moment when they were not walking together, Elrond managed to adjust their course away from the stables. “There is not time before court this morning, but we could come this afternoon, if you are free then.”

Glorfindel pulled a copy of the day’s schedule from his pocket. “There is little planned for today.  Gil-Galad even mentioned that court would be short and that the young apprentice advisor, Erestor I think his name was, could handle everything.” Glorfindel again nudged Elrond in the direction of the stables.

To Glorfindel’s surprise, Elrond appeared slightly flustered. “I am sure Erestor will do well.  I have overseen his training myself.  However, I have not informed anyone that I would not be present.”

“We can send a messenger from the stables,” offered Glorfindel. “Gil-Galad already said you were not needed.”

Glorfindel watched Elrond and could see the turmoil within him.  Knowing what little he did about Elrond, Glorfindel suspected that Elrond had never missed a day of court unless it was to serve Gil-Galad in another way, at the King’s request.  He forced himself not to smile, and took advantage of the situation, maneuvering Elrond out of the garden and increasing his speed slightly.

Suddenly they were at the stables, and Glorfindel learned something new about Elrond.  He loved horses, and knew much about breeding them.  He stood aside while Elrond examined the young colt, his face alight in joy as he spoke to the animal, extolling the colt’s fine features and potential until even the colt was preening under the half-elf’s praise.  They then moved through the stables together, and Glorfindel found he was far less interested in the horses than he was in the way that Elrond loosened up.  His demeanor change extended beyond the horses.

“I had a stallion on Balar, but there was little room to ride and I had little time, regardless.  I took him to war, and he was a faithful friend.  He was old as the war entered the final stages, and he died before Beleriand broke apart.  Nearly all the horses we had with us did.”

“Do you have a horse here?” asked Glorfindel.  He loved horses and was pleased that they had this in common.

“Yes,” answered Elrond quickly.  He led Glorfindel to another section of the stables and the nickering and whinnying of a black stallion as Elrond approached announced whom the half-elf belonged to.

“This is Reviaur. He flies like the wind.  See his marking here?” Elrond pointed to a shape on the horse’s head.  “A flame. He flies with fire.” He rubbed he stallions nose, whispering to him. “I came unexpectedly, Reviaur, and thus did not come prepared with sugar or apples,” he explained to the horse.

Glorfindel motioned to a passing stable hand, who approached with treats. Another stable hand approached with a white stallion, who threw his head and stamped his foot at the sight of Glorfindel. Elrond turned to look at the horse and smiled warmly at Glorfindel.  “Yours?”

“As I am his,” laughed Glorfindel.  “He chose me, actually, the day I came to look for a mount.” He motioned out the stable door. “Shall we ride?”

Elrond hesitated only briefly before answering, “Yes.” He shed the robes he wore over his tunic and trousers and led Reviaur out of the stable.

Glorfindel was mounted and warming up his own horse when it occurred to him that Elrond had taken control of the situation.  He began to laugh – he had not let Elrond lead him on their walk, had persuaded the half-elf to trust him in regard to changing his plans for the morning, and now Elrond was taking the lead as they rode out together. He heard Elrond shout, and then Reviaur broke out in a gallop across the flat plains beyond the stables.  Glorfindel’s stallion snorted and he allowed the horse free rein.  Soon they were racing neck in neck across the field.

Several hours later they were lying in the sun as the horses grazed and rested.  A stream ran nearby, and they had all already drunk and refreshed themselves in the cool waters.  Glorfindel sat up and opened the pack that he had brought with him, pulling out fresh fruit, cheese and a skin of wine.

“You planned this,” accused Elrond.

“Definitely,” agreed Glorfindel.

“Why?”

“Eat,” demanded Glorfindel, as he set the food between them.

Elrond obediently ate what Glorfindel had set before him, finishing his fruit immediately and then moving on to the cheese.

“I want to know you,” said Glorfindel finally, “and I want you to trust me.”

Elrond looked at him strangely, but pondered the words for a number of minutes before responding. “I suppose I already do.”

“Trust must be earned,” warned Glorfindel.

Elrond stared at him, as if reading his heart, and Glorfindel made his thoughts and motives as transparent as he could.

“I would not count myself wise if I did not.”

“You seem to be a fair judge of character,” admitted Glorfindel.  He had been impressed while watching Elrond interact with petitioners and representatives of other realms.

“Are you going to eat those strawberries?”

Glorfindel grinned wickedly.  “No.”

“May I have them?”

“No.”

Elrond laughed, and then reached over and snatched the berries from Glorfindel’s plate.  He ate them, ignoring Glorfindel’s laughter, and then grinned unrepentantly.  “That is how much I trust you.”

As they prepared to leave, Glorfindel pondered that statement.  For Elrond to act impulsively did indicate trust.  He had also gained something this day that he had not planned – he would now count Elrond among his friends as well.

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

“Arwen, had you heard this story before?” asked Elladan as he ruffled her hair.  “You knew about the strawberries.”

“No, I did not!” denied Arwen.  “I am just right.”

“Adar, did she ask you what you would do?” asked Elrohir teasingly.

Elrond shook his head, a smile on his face. He turned to Glorfindel. “I had forgotten about that.”

“Arwen sees with a child’s simplicity.  She would take the strawberries from me, but she would likely not take them from someone she barely knew, nor would she take them from me in front of someone she did not know.  Trust is like that – it is between two people.” As Glorfindel spoke, he produced another small bowl of strawberries, placing it in Arwen’s lap. “The winner’s prize,” he announced.

Elrond, Elrohir and Elladan all leaned in close to her.  “Will you share with us?” asked Elladan.

Arwen grinned, and everyone knew she wished to say ‘no’, to make them laugh and do what Glorfindel had just done.  But her young heart was very generous, and even in teasing she could not do that.  She set the bowl between all of them.  “Yes,” she answered.

* * * * *