Bright sunlight streamed through the windows of the Last Homely House, augmented by the sparkle of the snow outside. It was a beautiful day, and everyone wanted to go outside to play in the snow or just walk in the gardens breathing the pure air and enjoying the sight of the snow-topped trees and buildings set against a blue sky.

Maerdess walked dreamily through the trees. She reached out, cupped her hands around the boles and swung around them from time to time, frolicking like a child. Her heart was glad and she hummed a lively tune. Following the narrow path to the practice fields, she smiled when she saw Glorfindel there, and picked up a sword.

“My lord,” she called, “may I spar with you?”

“You may,” he replied, and bowed to her.

They took their positions then traded thrusts and parries. Maerdess acquitted herself well before the audience of experienced warriors. When she was finally disarmed, they applauded her.

As he turned to her, Glorfindel grinned and said, “My lady, since I had to work so hard to get the better of you, may I make a request of you?”

“As soon as I have got my breath back, my lord,” Maerdess said with a wicked grin. They had discussed this the night before.

The others moved closer, wondering what this might mean for them.

“You.” Glorfindel pointed at one of the warriors. “Take your sword and see if you can get the better of my lady.”

An awkward moment ensued as the warrior took his position. The surprise on his face and his uncomfortable demeanour would have made the others laugh if they were not so certain they would all be made to face Maerdess. He looked to the others for support, but they just moved away, ostensibly to give them space.

Glorfindel grinned, and Maerdess returned the gesture. This was going to be very amusing!

“Have you heard the news?” Celebrían asked Losgael after breakfast.

“What news, my lady?” asked Losgael, whose mind was still full of thoughts of the night before.

“Glorfindel has persuaded Maerdess to return to him,” said Celebrían, breathless with excitement. “I wanted to bring this to your attention in private, so I could comfort you if you were upset by it.”

“I am pleased for her,” Losgael replied, detached.

“I thought you would be upset.” Celebrían's oval face was tilted sideways and frowning. She always did that when she was confused.

“I am as surprised as you are that I am not,” said Losgael. “It seems I have been more interested in the idea of love than in Glorfindel himself. Though he is noble and brave, he thinks too highly of himself and tends to want what he cannot have. I understand that your efforts were directed towards convincing him to think of me in that way.”

“You seem different somehow,” Celebrían remarked. “Detached, as if you are not really here.”

“On the contrary,” Losgael replied, “I am certainly here, and am more aware than ever of things around me. Lights are somehow brighter, fires warmer and colours more vivid than before. It is strange.”

Celebrían drew back, regarding her critically. “Oh.”

“What is it, my lady?”

“You are in love with Erestor.”

“No. I am not bumping into things, thinking constantly of him,” said Losgael. “I just feel that something within me has changed, and I see things more clearly than I did before. If anything, I am out of love. My passionate desire for Glorfindel was naught but a passing fancy, built on songs and stories. There was no foundation. It was just a dream, nothing more.”

Silence filled the corridor, making a gulf between them, though they remained standing close to each other.

“What of Erestor, then?” Celebrían asked her after a while.

“You seem to be concerned,” Losgael told her. She looked carefully at her for clues to what she might be thinking.

It had never occurred to do such a thing before, particularly to Celebrían, whom she had known from her earliest years. The shift in her attitude, though, had changed more than her perceptions. It had happened after she and Celebrían had parted the night before, precipitated by her conversation with Erestor. The idea of holding people in awe when they had weaknesses in their characters and did foolish things now seemed ridiculous to her, and she was resolved to only show them the respect due to their stations. Since they were only at different levels in their societies due to accidents of birth and circumstances, Losgael now felt at leisure to scrutinize other Elves, even those in senior positions. She knew it would not do to make this too obvious, for those in higher positions only treated others with respect out of courtesy, and not because they believed they were equals, as far as she knew.

“You have changed,” said Celebrían. “I am not sure if I like it.”

“I also dislike change, my lady, though it can be a good thing,” Losgael replied.

“I love Erestor for helping to unite me with the one I love,” Celebrían said defensively.

“What did you do, my lady?” asked Losgael. Erestor had told her Celebrían had interfered once. Later, the things she heard told her there had been many instances in which her lady had tried to influence the course of love. What was the truth of the matter?

“I told Lothwen he loved her, and did not have the courage to tell her in case she rejected him,” Celebrían admitted. “Then I told him that she loved him, but did not know how to tell him. I put them together whenever I could, hoping they would fall in love because I thought they were suited to each other. It failed utterly. They actually avoided each other when they could, barely able to look at each other, for I had worked hard to cause them to believe I spoke truly. Eventually, I was forced to admit to what I had done, for Erestor complained to Elrond about my conduct.”

Losgael went quiet. Erestor had been discreet about the matter, and had shown respect for his lady. That was a good quality. “Did you do what you did to benefit him, or was there another reason?”

“I discovered his involvement in the writing of the love letters Elrond sent me after we were married,” she replied, a faraway look on her face. “I spent the next few weeks wondering if my marriage was built on real feelings or on my own desires for the love the minstrels sing of. Eventually, Elrond reassured me that he loved me and could not bear the thought of my being unhappy. His need for me is real, and I know he is truly in love with me. I suppose I wanted to show Erestor what it was to have the hand of another in his affairs, but it honestly did not occur to me me to think thus at the time. He and Lothwen are temperamentally suited to each other, and I have great love for her. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

“I understand, my lady,” said Losgael. “He told me he helped to write the letters because Lord Elrond was in love with you, but was afraid to speak of it. He wanted to bring about the marriage to make his friend happy. The words were his, but arranged by an expert hand.”

“Lindir's,” Celebrían stated. “I knew it was him when he sang for us in the Hall of Fire one night, and used phrases like the ones in the letters sent to me. The anger I felt! My heart laid out for the world to see! I was so upset, I was ready to leave then and there, but Elrond kept telling me he loved me, even as I saddled my horse. I turned to slap him in the face – again – but I saw tears on his face. He wept at the thought of losing me. I believed him, and said I would stay. Then Erestor, who had been watching us from the door, came forward and admitted his part in it all. If Elrond had just plucked up the courage to write his own letters instead of being so afraid I would say no, it would not have come to that. Alas, while he would gladly have slain a dozen Balrogs as a bride-piece, he could not bring himself to speak of his feelings for me because being rejected and alone is the thing he fears the most.”

“Do you find it easy to speak of your feelings, my lady?” asked Losgael. Celebrían had always spoken of her hopes and dreams to her, but that was because she had grown up with her. Was it hard to speak of them to someone she did not know so well?

“I always believed that I could speak freely to anyone who loved me,” Celebrían told her, “but now I think it is wise to keep things to oneself, telling only what is needful for the other to know.”

“I also believe this, my lady,” she replied. “I wonder what Erestor will think of Glorfindel and Maerdess being lovers?”

“I think he will be glad, for it will give him a clear shot at your heart,” she giggled.

At the practice range, Glorfindel was busy with his bow. His pride in Maerdess was growing. She had rarely used a bow, since she had no taste for the hunt, but she was eager to improve the skills she had, for she wanted to start making the quivers the bowmen used.

“I cannot improve the design, if improvements are needed,” she told him, “unless I know first hand what it is like to use it myself.”

Glorfindel smiled. It had taken much persuasion to bring Maerdess back to his side, but by taking an interest in her pursuits, he had learned that she could be more useful to him than he had ever realised. Blessing Elrond and Erestor in his heart, Glorfindel applied their advice as well as he could, and took pleasure in seeing how right they were each time he did.

“They have to be waterproof, and leather cracks if it is not regularly oiled,” said Glorfindel. “They must be rigid, or the arrows would catch in a softer fabric.”

“What oils do you use?” asked Maerdess, turning to him.

“Usually animal fats, depending on what we can get hold of,” he replied.

“Do the tanners practice on the range?” she asked.

“No,” he told her.

“That might be the answer,” she said, “for I have no skill in working with leather, and think it would be best left to someone with more experience than I.”

“I shall mention it to them,” said Glorfindel, mulling over what she had said. It was a good idea. Yes, she was useful, not just because of the skills she had with fabric, but because of the way she thought. What a treasure he had!

In the evening, after dinner, Erestor met Losgael on the balcony where they had conversed the night before. He admired her slim figure and long, silvery hair that billowed in the soft evening breeze. He stood and watched her for a while, then spoke softly to break the silence.

“Good evening, my lady.” His voice was calm and gentle.

Losgael turned to him. “Good evening, my lord,” she replied with a smile.

“Lost in thought again?” he asked playfully.

“A little,” she said, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “I heard of a great deed you did today.”

“The time I pulled a massive troll off Glorfindel?” he asked, trying to guess. She was in a strange mood tonight, and he wanted to share it, to join her as if they were both on the same boat, floating down the river.

“I never knew about that,” she told him, puzzled.

“He is supposed to be invincible, so the story never got out,” he teased. He was telling only part of the tale.

“Tell me the story,” she said, and looked at him directly.

Ai, she was scrutinizing him! He knew she was quick to learn, but this surprised him. Shy Losgael had been easier to deal with, but Strong Losgael was an unknown quantity. Still, as she had pointed out, they were but friends. If they were betrothed, it would be harder to deal with the shift in her heart and mind. It was like a tree falling over in a forest that permitted more light to shine on the other plants there. She seemed brighter somehow, and more powerful.

“He had gone out with a patrol while Sauron's forces had us pinned down here. Though they could not find us because we were so well hidden, they were able to stop us getting out and friends and supplies getting in. Glorfindel went out to see if Gil-galad had arrived yet to free us, and was leading his patrol around a large rock outcrop at night when a troll pounced on them and attacked them. I was with them, for I was also a warrior then. We all were. We had to be, for all hands were needed and none of us could lay claim to position or title. Glorfindel says he preferred the way things were then because status did not matter so much in those days. 'Status,' he said, 'is a luxury we can only afford in civilized times.' He is right.

“The troll came at us, swinging a young birch with all the branches snapped off. I could smell the sap. He must have broken it within an hour of becoming active, for trolls shun daylight. He swung it at us, and we all leapt out of the way. Some of us fired arrows at it, and it bellowed with rage and pain. We knew that if we failed to silence it quickly, it would bring the Orcs and other evil creatures running. As it brought the branch down again, I leapt up onto a shelf of the outcrop, and climbed to the top. The others kept it occupied, as if they realised what I was doing. I slashed at its throat, which stilled its voice and brought it down in a torrent of thick black blood. Glorfindel could not get out of the way in time and it fell on top of him.

“I cast my sword aside and tried to pull him out from underneath, but he was pinned. I could hear the approach of the Orcs, and was afraid. I managed to wedge myself partly underneath its shoulder, and raise the beast a little. The others pulled him free. I picked up my sword, and we all fled. We hid partly submerged in a deep part of a river that flowed nearby, just under the bank, which was a few feet higher than the water level. When they moved away, seeking us elsewhere, we were able to escape back to Rivendell.”

“Ai!” gasped Losgael in amazement. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No,” said Erestor, “not seriously. We were all grazed and bruised, and glad to have got away with our lives. Gil-galad arrived a few weeks later, and the siege was lifted.”

“Did you take part in the battle to free Rivendell from the siege when Gil-galad arrived?” she asked, clearly seeing him in a new light.

“I did,” he replied, “but did no deeds of note then. I killed Orcs, and was there to see Elrond meet his king and greet him.”

“You seem to think your slaying of the troll is not a deed worthy of note,” she told him, and moved closer, as if to comfort him.

“I nearly got us all killed! We were lucky to have got away,” he replied. “I cannot make any claim to great deeds – certainly no greater than any done by the other warriors here.”

“Did he say anything about it?” asked Losgael, her eyes wide.

“He forgave me at once, and said nothing more about it. He knew I was trying to save us, and meant him no harm. Still, there are times when I wonder what might have been, and give thanks to Elbereth that we all survived. What was the great deed you were told of?” he asked, looking at her for signs that she was mocking him. He was aware that she was not in love with him, and disliked the thought of being the subject of gossip.

“My lady Celebrían told me you prevented her from leaving here,” she said, clearly uncomfortable.

“I remember it well,” he replied. “After hearing Lindir's song in the Hall of Fire one night, she sent you to the sewing room to get the thing she had been working on. She said it was a gift for Lindir. You went, and she left the room. I could feel coldness coming off her in waves as she swept out of the room, and out of the house. Elrond and I followed her to the stables, where she was saddling her horse. I remained by the door, for I was afraid of making matters worse, but I wanted to be there in case I could help.

“'You deceived me!' she cried.”

“'I did not,' Elrond told her. 'Why are you leaving like this? Why are you angry? How have I deceived you?'

“'Those words Lindir sang were in the love letters you sent me, Elrond. I thought they were for me alone, but no! They are for everyone, it seems!'

“Elrond was appalled, and told her that the words had been given to Lindir to use to compose poems, but he had not told him who they were intended for. He kept swearing his undying love for her, and as she saddled the horse, he burst into tears. She turned to slap him, but when she saw his tears, she stopped. He kept telling her he loved her, and had found it difficult to express his feelings for her, and had asked for help. I came forward to confirm this, and she decided not to leave after all. It took a while for her to calm down, though,” he said. The memories of that night made him uncomfortable. “Ai! The harm we can do when we are only trying to help! I was forgiven after a while, but I know she found it hard to trust me for a long time.”

“I remember a time when she was upset, but all she would say was that she had quarrelled with her husband,” said Losgael, frowning.

“That was for the best. It is wise to keep our friends out of our arguments, lest we make matters worse than they ought to be,” he replied. “I am glad you did not pry. Discretion is a most becoming trait in a lady.”

“As humility is for any Elf,” she said, the twinkle back in her eye.

She was beginning to like him.

Erestor's heart leaped within him, but he said nothing. He would take this very slowly.

TBC...