Spring arrived in Rivendell with a fanfare of birdsong and a riot of colour as the violets, daffodils and primroses burst into bloom. Every creature was filled with joy, and the Last Homely House was abuzz with activity as the people prepared for the trading expeditions that usually set out at that time of year.

Carts laden with clothes, boots and yarns; preserves made from the local berries; ale from the local oast-houses and finely-tooled leather goods went out. Their drivers hoped to return with silks, wine and other things they could not get in Rivendell.

“Nana, if I asked for something from the toy market at Dale...” said Elrohir, his small face upturned, his grey eyes pleading.

“And one for me, Nana,” added Elladan, not to be outdone.

“If there is something suitable,” Celebrían told them, with a warm smile.

The sons of Elrond were always excited when they saw the wagons wind their way out of the valley, and chattered excitedly about the things the merchants might return with. A rocking horse each, lifelike and well-built, had come back with the last expedition, and they had yet to tire of them. Celebrían rejoiced in the pleasure her sons took from such things, but she was afraid of spoiling them, lest they forget the reverence and gratitude due to their parents, and shame them later on. Nonetheless, if she could indulge them, she would.

Other members of the household found reasons to be outside on that gloriously sunny day. Erestor could be seen speaking intently with the main driver, and the ladies were talking to the other merchants about cloths, yarns, and other things they wanted. Celebrían could hear snatches of their conversations from where she was standing.

“That lovely red silk shot through with gold...”

“That blue cloth with the printed pictures on it...”

“Some more gold thread...”

“Those silver buttons...”

Many of the items they were asking for were things she wanted for herself, and she was glad that all of them would be able to make use of whatever came back. There was always an element of unpredictability in the expeditions. Sometimes the things they wanted were not available, while at others, something the Elves had not considered was discovered, and brought back. The rocking horses had been seen by Glorfindel when he went out with the last expedition, and he made a gift of them to his liege lord's children. This time, another Elf captain was in charge of protecting the wagons. What would he return with?

Life in Rivendell followed its usual patterns, and the romances between Erestor and Losgael and Glorfindel and Maerdess continued.

Erestor and Losgael often spent evenings together on “their” balcony in quiet conversation. Since they were immortal, they did not feel the urgency that people of other races felt in matters of love. They had not gone further as a couple than talking as friends, and Losgael had given no indication of desiring anything more from Erestor than friendship.

“Have you noticed how other people often walk away when they see us together?” she asked him one night after dinner.

“Indeed I have,” he replied with a mischievous grin. “It is as if they know more about the nature of our friendship than we do!”

“Ai! The gossips are as busy with their tongues as the farmers in their fields!” she declared.

“And the harvest is as delicious to them as the food the farmers bring forth is to us!” he replied.

“I never had much time for gossip,” said Losgael, her brow furrowed. “There is no profit in it, and it can be bitter for those who have the details of their lives picked over like scraps of meat off a bone thrown to the dogs!”

“It is only amusing to those not the subject of it,” he conceded, “though I have found uses for it.”

Losgael turned to him, facing him and watching him carefully. “What uses?”

“Well,” he replied, a shrewd expression on his face, “by learning what people think of a person, you can learn a lot about them.”

“I would not have thought of gossip as being a source of truth,” she said. She moved closer, as if doing so would enable her to hear his thoughts as they formed in his head. Erestor had always been quiet, a shadowy figure who stayed in the background and had little to say, as a rule. She had noticed that he never stayed for the lampoons when they took place.

He held his ground. “It is not. But it is a useful way of finding out how people feel. If people speak well of someone, or declare that one person loves another, there is an element of truth in there. Similarly, if they speak badly of someone or declare that one person hates another, there is some truth in that. It is the perceptions people have that interests me.”

Losgael's confusion tilted her head, as if from the weight of it. The crinkling of the corner of Erestor's eyes told her he found it endearing. “So the perception is the truth...” she said slowly.

“Exactly,” he replied. “Or to be precise, the knowledge I gain of their perceptions. Knowing who is popular and who is not is essential when running a busy realm. It was ever thus in the court of Gil-galad.”

Something moved into place in her head like the tumblers in a lock. “The most popular people have the most influence, even if, ostensibly, they are of little consequence,” she said.

“Indeed,” he replied, looking like a teacher would at a prize pupil. “If I want to get new cloaks made for the border guards, I go to Brethilgwen because she is in charge of the textiles here. If I need something from the kitchen, I can go to Buiowen, unless it is a matter I should bring before the head cook. Now that Maerdess has increased her popularity and is the lover of Glorfindel, I no longer have to rely on Brethilgwen.”

“Yes,” agreed Losgael, “for Brethilgwen is no longer able to dominate her as she did before. She is in awe of her, and treats her with respect.”

Erestor grinned. “So I heard.”

“I was not expecting that,” said Losgael. In less than a year so much had changed, it was making her dizzy. “If anything, I was expecting their rivalry to increase, and Brethilgwen to be bitter.”

“I think she always knew it was a dream,” he said. The tenderness in his voice melted her heart. “And she was trying to make it come true. Though she assumed Anuhim, who loves her as much as I love you, knew nothing about it, he has known all along. He helped her when he could, and sometimes asked me to assist in her schemes.”

“I have noticed that,” Losgael replied. “Buiowen told me Anuhim told her that Brethilgwen sometimes thinks she is invincible and that sometimes, loving someone means that you have to see them being hurt, and do nothing about it because it is necessary for them to be chastened. I think he helped her to try to win Glorfindel so he could comfort her if she failed.”

“He has succeeded in part, but I think he will never win her if he continues to make it clear that he loves her,” said Erestor. “She only wants what she cannot have.”

“I hope her new attitude will help her to appreciate what she has instead of chasing what she cannot have,” said Losgael. “Few there are who enjoy a sharp tongue and a hard face.”

Erestor laughed. “Anuhim is actually one of the few who do!”

“He does not appear to be weak, like those Men I have seen with strong-willed wives,” said Losgael. “His will seems to be at least as strong as hers.”

“Indeed,” replied Erestor. “I do not believe he sees her as a protector or someone he can send against any who cross him. He seems to admire her strength, and to be concerned for her well-being. Anuhim has told me he is in love with her. Sometimes, the things that can repulse one person can attract another.”

“That is love indeed,” she replied with a sigh.

That was what Losgael wanted, someone to love her, even with her faults. Like Brethilgwen, she had someone who loved her, but she desired another. Would her heart ever move towards Erestor? She found that his heroism in saving Glorfindel had exposed a vulnerability in the object of her desire she had not believed existed. This made her desire him Erestor to some extent, but the sheer rush of passion that throbbed through her being on those occasions when Glorfindel revealed himself to be a masterful, glorious Elf-lord never occurred in the presence of Elrond's chief counsellor. She wondered if it ever would.

TBC...