A Gold Star in His Crown - JazTheBard - The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue: Gloomy was the Night

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Elrond was missing.

Elrond was missing, and the Silmarils were gone, and these things were connected; they had to be.

He and Elros had been returned to their kinsman the High King six months ago, as a show of goodwill on the part of the Sons of Fëanor, who had these past two weeks been at turns threatening and pleading with the Maia Eönwë for the Silmarils.

(Everyone carefully did not speculate on what the twins had endured, at least, not where they might hear. They refused to speak of it.)

Last night had been normal. There was an air of celebration, as there had been since Morgoth fell, and the twin princes had retired early, citing the strangeness of their new existences as a mortal and an immortal rather than a pair of nebulous neither-one-nor-the-other youths. The revelry wound down, and folk slept. Including, for an unknown reason, both the sentries and those who had been guarding the Silmarils.

When they awoke, the box containing the jewels lay empty, but for note left in it, recognizably in Maglor's hand. It read simply, "Thank you for returning what is ours."

The alarm was raised.

It was not until an hour later that anyone realized Elrond had been taken, too.

Chapter 2: The Stars Burnt Bright as Day

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High King Gil-Galad knocked on Elros's door, which was promptly answered by the young -- not just a half-elf anymore -- young Man.

Elros smiled. "Can I help you, cousin?" His dark hair was uncustomarily uncovered, and Gil-Galad realized it was very early in the morning. He had probably been woken only by the alarm.

"I am sorry, I can -- I can come back later--"

"It is no trouble. What has happened? I heard the commotion."

Gil-Galad paused before speaking. "Have you seen your brother?"

"Not this morning. Is he not in his room?"

"He is..." Gil-Galad trailed off. "The Silmarils were stolen last night by the Sons of Fëanor. And so, it seems, was he."

Elros froze. "What? No. No, he cannot be gone!"

"Did you not hear anything?" said Gil-Galad, trying to be gentle.

"No, nothing. He sometimes -- he sleeps less now, so at times he wakes and goes for a walk in the camp. He must have done that last night. I just -- why would they--"

"I am sorry," said Gil-Galad, though it would hardly help.

Elros sobbed. "Why could they not have taken me?"

Why had they taken Elrond at all? Unless he had caught them in the act -- but everyone had suddenly fallen asleep last night, hadn't they? And, as cruel as it was to think it, they could simply have killed him.

There had to be a reason they had taken him.

(Maybe they merely disliked leaving loose ends, and had stolen him only to kill him.)

In any case, they would have to get him back if they could, though there was nothing they could trade. Gil-Galad hugged a crying Elros and tried to think.

Elros was withdrawn, after that. He spent most of his time alone or in the company of Men, some of whom had accompanied him and Elrond in their parting from the Fëanorians. Unlike the elves who had once followed the Sons of Fëanor, the Men had not disappeared the night after the theft.

When asked about his years of captivity (by Men, he never answered the elves), he always said a variation on the same thing: that the time seemed dreamlike, as if it had not been real, and his memories were hazy and distorted.

And when people inevitably pressed for details, he would say he had not been hurt there, not that he could recall, not by anyone.

The Men with him said the same things, how it had all felt so real at the time but now something had changed. The other mortals, those who had not been there, nodded and murmured something about the Fair Folk.

Years passed.

Gil-Galad eventually got an explanation for what the Fair Folk were, and it was not comforting to think that Maedhros and Maglor were of that ilk. It was, however, a potential reason for the second kidnapping of Elrond, given the reported propensity for stealing children.

Privately, he thought that it must have a more practical reason, but could not come up with one other than "revenge."

One day, Elros left, saying he would get his brother back.

He did not return.

Years passed.

By following Elros's trail, they had found the place that the kinslayers had gone, somewhere in the foothills of the Misty Mountains, but no one could enter it. All were stopped by some invisible force from getting near; no one yet had even laid eyes on the dwelling.

Some Men claimed to have been there, but their tales were fantastical and could not be believed, so Gil-Galad discounted them.

The twins were dead. Hopefully, anyway, for if they lived still -- what horrors could they have faced before, that their minds destroyed the knowledge? How much worse would it be now that they were no longer useful?

The rumors multiplied.

The princes were dead -- no, they were alive, how else could the kinslayers take revenge for Elwing's actions -- they were as good as dead anyway, their minds turned and the twins unable to disobey their captors -- dead, and evil magic binding their souls to the Silmarils -- alive, alive and never to be freed because it brought the murderers happiness to hurt them over and over, to destroy any spark of goodness in the world -- trapped forever by fae enchantment, unable even to want to leave --

Gil-Galad would go himself, this time, and do anything in his power to return his young kinsmen to either safety or a proper burial.

(Not for the first time he wished that someone else could have been king. If only someone other than Orodreth could have adopted him!)

He led his group of soldiers eastwards, to the place the rumors spoke of.

(He tried not to think about the content of those rumors.)

The woods grew thicker as they approached, and more shadowy, as if the trees were constricting around them and cutting off the sky. Gil-Galad shivered. The night was long; he felt as if several days had passed without a sunrise.

He saw a path just ahead, and beside it a standing stone. It looked like the trees thinned there. He hurried forward.

Dramhor, his captain, grabbed his arm to stop him. “Slowly,” they said. “At the stone is the first boundary. A diplomat or two got past it, but as far as we can tell, no one who means harm can cross.”

Gil-Galad walked towards the stone, more cautiously now. He knew he did not intend violence towards anyone within, but would it interpret his motives differently? He had come in the hopes of bringing his young cousins home, if they yet lived, which the Fëanorians might call theft.

Nonetheless, he passed by the standing stone and found no resistance, but felt a strange magic wash over him. It did not seem harmful, merely... curious.

Most of the soldiers were stopped at the boundary, but Dramhor and a few others were able to continue. The ones, he supposed, who harbored no intention of revenge.

The path led them to a small river, one of many, it seemed, judging by the sounds of water from all directions. An elegant bridge sat atop the river, its walk of plain wood but its handrails strange.

They were curving and delicate things, decorative, and began on the near side as wrought iron, before slowly changing to gold as it approached the far side.

Gil-Galad set foot upon the bridge, but could take no more than two steps. Something weighed him down suddenly, and he could go no further, only turn around and return to the riverbank.

"What was that?" he asked, feeling almost out of breath. "Everything became so heavy!"

Dramhor nodded. "The next barrier. This one is different. You cannot cross if you carry iron; it is dangerous to the fae."

"I do not like the idea of going in unarmed."

Dramhor reached into their pocket and pulled out a small knife. "This is flint," they said. "It will cross the bridge with you, though your armor and other blades will not."

None of the other soldiers were willing to divest themselves of protection, so they remained behind as Gil-Galad and Dramhor crossed the bridge.

This time there was no heaviness at all, but another magic running up his limbs to his center like some sort of small lightning strike. The sensation felt more threatening than the previous boundary spell, as if the magic was working its way deep into him for later use.

"Will they be safe there?" he said.

"I believe so," said Dramhor, still shuddering from the feel of the spell. "I was left behind there once, and no harm came to me."

They followed the path onwards, which grew wider as the trees fell away, and soon became paved with silvery flagstones, as if welcoming them. Then they came near to a peak of a hill, and a line of mushrooms growing across the path and extending as far as the eye could see.

"No one has yet crossed this boundary," said Dramhor in a hushed voice. "It continues all the way around, I think, and we know not what will let someone pass. Look." They reached a hand out, but could extend it no further than the line of mushrooms. "The body rebels against the mind -- no force of will can make me cross."

Gil-Galad approached warily. When he was as close as Dramhor, a third magic brushed him. Its scrutiny burrowed into him, as if laying all his secrets bare.

But he continued walking, and he did not stop, not even as he crossed into the ring.

Gil-Galad entered the realm of Faerie.

Five hours later, Dramhor saw the king, who had disappeared the moment he entered, stumble out dizzily.

"They live," he breathed, nearly falling. "They live!"

Dramhor caught him. "Truly?"

"I saw them. Already my thoughts grow confused, my recollection strange, but they live!"

The soldiers by the bridge had been waiting a week when Gil-Galad and Dramhor reappeared; those outside the standing stone had waited only a day.

Gil-Galad had been inside for nearly a month, if his sense of time could be trusted, with all the terrible and wondrous things that make up life in the land of the Fair Folk.

Chapter 3: Louder, Louder, Rang the Bells

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The first thing Gil-Galad heard was music. Music, and joyous ringing bells.

He blinked and looked around himself. It was not so different from where he had been just before, but somehow more vivid than anything he had ever seen: the trees greener, the sky bluer, the countless unfamiliar flowers beyond vibrant in colors he could not name. The air was sweet, and he felt that the glories of this strange world might well be infinite -- he had never set foot on the shores of the Blessed Land, but surely it must be like this!

A figure approached him, one who might appear elven if not for her golden butterfly-like wings. The way she moved, too, was strange, as if walking upon the ground were merely an affectation and not her natural manner.

"Greetings to you, Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor," she said, bowing. "Welcome to the realm of Imladris."

He bowed in return. "Greetings, my lady."

She laughed like the merry rustling of leaves in the wind. "Call me Wilwarindë, your majesty! Now follow me, I shall take you to the court where you will be an honored guest."

Apparently having no other choice, he followed her up the path, which was now paved in an almost golden stone, the flagstones glittering in the sunlight.

They crested the hill, and at last he beheld the Faerie land of Imladris, home of those Fair Folk under Fëanorian rule. It was the most beautiful city he had ever seen, though he had seen few beautiful places in war-torn Beleriand.

It was -- it was like nothing he could have dreamed! Green fields and orchards gave way to elegant architecture, all filigreed columns and shining surfaces. One of the pavilions floated in the air, untroubled by thoughts of gravity; a house there was, entangled in twining vines that either held it up or tethered it to the earth; a pool glimmered that looked to be filled with moonlight! There were buildings of crystal, of blown glass, of marble and gold!

And above it all rang the bells, louder and louder as they approached, from every impossible tower.

He saw people dancing in the valley below, and all around as he descended the hillside, and not a one of them appeared to be an elf or Man or dwarf, but strange creatures like Wilwarindë.

Then he heard their song coming from all sides:

O! Where are you going,

And what are you doing?

The sunlight is glowing,

The springtime renewing!

O! tra-la-la-lally, come into the valley,

ha! ha!

"They sing for you," said Wilwarindë. "We do not get many visitors, as a rule. But do not stay gawking! You must come to the court, to meet their majesties."

Every moment he saw a new wonder, but kept himself from slowing. Soon they came to the largest building, practically a palace, which must be the court. The doors lay open, inviting, and they entered.

The interior of the palace was lit not by candles but countless floating lights that filled the air, and on the walls hung tapestries that seemed almost to glow. She led him down a hallway made of glass, where flower petals swirled through the air on an unfelt breeze, and to a great set of double doors, which opened before her without even the barest touch.

Gil-Galad did not notice the room, wondrous though it was, or the Court in all its finery. His gaze was drawn only to the great dais at the end of the room, where sat the Sons of Fëanor -- no, that name was no longer sufficient.

They were the Fairy Kings.

The famed red hair of King Maedhros fell in a great flame-like braid, ornamented with countless jewels, down to the floor beside his golden throne, and King Maglor held before him a harp of bone, whose strange music ceased as Gil-Galad entered.

Spellbound, he could not move his eyes from them, but he noticed that below their seats, a mere step down on the dais, were a second pair of thrones, smaller but no less ornate. Upon them, as richly dressed and otherworldly as the kings, sat Elros and Elrond.

(There was no sign anywhere of the Silmarils.)

Gil-Galad’s eyes widened in surprise at seeing the twins, but he hid his shock as best he could and bowed deeply. “Your majesties. Thank you for allowing me entry to your land." Elrond and Elros were alive! At least, it appeared so; they breathed, if nothing else, and appeared unhurt.

To his surprise, Maedhros stood to greet him, Maglor and the twins following.

“Be welcome in Imladris, High King Gil-Galad,” he said. “It is an honor to have you here as our guest.”

The rest of the Court stood as one and bowed towards Gil-Galad.

For a long moment there was silence in the hall, Maedhros keeping his eyes fixed on Gil-Galad with some unidentifiable emotion in them as Gil-Galad stared back.

Then, at a gesture from Maglor, musicians struck up joyful music, and the strange moment passed with the coming of sound. The fae danced, and he felt a great desire to join in, but Maglor beckoned him forward to the foot of the dais, and he obeyed.

"Now, I assure you that my brother and I shall not be too busy to be courteous hosts," said the musical Fairy King, smiling, "but since you hardly came to see us, the twins will take care of you for the most part. I trust you have no objection?"

He would be permitted to interact with them? On a constant basis? It felt too good to be true.

"None at all," he said.

Maglor beamed, the ever-present light in his face, remnant of the Trees, increasing in intensity. "Wonderful!" He turned to Elrond and Elros and gave them each a kiss on the forehead. "Be good hosts, little stars."

The half-elves nodded and linked arms with Gil-Galad, dragging him off.

"We are so very glad to see you," said Elrond.

Elros nodded in agreement. "Rooms have been prepared for you, of course, but it will take some doing to rearrange seating for dinner. Everyone was caught quite off guard by your arrival, you know."

"No one was expecting the barrier to let you in; it never allows elves."

Gil-Galad could do nothing but walk, mind whirling. "Does it admit others, then?"

(The twins wore the eight-pointed star that was the sigil of the House of Fëanor, decorating their circlets and embroidered on their clothes. What were Maedhros and Maglor playing at?)

"Why, yes! The occasional Man wanders in, and they are permitted entry if a member of the Court is willing to take responsibility for them." said Elrond.

Gil-Galad took this to mean that the unfortunate human would become trapped if any fae had use for them.

Elrond continued, "Though Elros here does declare as many as he can to be his guests. Hospitality is a serious thing."

Seeing the fear that must have flashed across his face, Elros reassured him, "You have no need to fear, cousin. Guests cannot be harmed; there are rules. The king has declared that you must be treated with high honor."

"Hence the change in seating; you will be at the high table with us."

"Why?" said Gil-Galad. He saw no reason for the kinslayers to do anything of the kind, unless--

Perhaps they wanted him to be comfortable here. If they made him forget his purpose, or simply bespelled and trapped him, they could keep him there, harmless and content, as they did the Men they took.

(And as they might have done to the twins, whose manner betrayed no unhappiness or discomfort.)

"You are a kinsman, one whom the spells indicated to be an acceptable visitor, and High King as well," said Elros. "Now, this is where you will be staying." He gestured to the door they had stopped at.

Gil-Galad pushed it open to find a splendidly furnished room, much of it in shades of the indigo from his heraldry. It was, thankfully, less strange than other places in the palace.

"We are just down the hall if you need anything, and we will come fetch you for dinner. Dress nicely," said Elrond.

They unlinked their arms from his and went off down the hall.

Gil-Galad went in, shut the door, and dropped himself on the bed.

Chapter 4: The Lofty Hall

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After a relaxing half-hour spent refraining from screaming into his pillow, Gil-Galad attempted to process his thoughts.

His young cousins were alive! That was, in all likelihood, a good thing. The worst of the rumors could be discounted.

The others, though... it was possible that Elrond and Elros were being hurt, even if he had seen no marks, and from their behavior he thought mind-turning likely. No matter; he would have time to puzzle out these things, as long as the kings did not decide to ban him from Elrond and Elros.

He sighed and sat up. Had he even brought clothing suitable for a formal feast? Best to put everything up in the wardrobe and take stock.

He opened the wardrobe, and to his shock, found it full of exactly the kind of thing he would wear to this sort of dinner.

Well.

One problem solved, at least.

He unpacked his belongings (not many, as he had not expected to gain entry) and explored his given rooms (spacious and manifold). Washing off the dirt of travel was as pleasant as ever, and he settled in to braid his hair.

Gil-Galad might prefer simple braids, ones that merely kept his hair from his face, but the fact remained that Noldorin royalty must participate in the cultural customs of their people and wear braids indicative of various personal details, such as gender, craft, and rank.

(It was never a question of braided or unbraided, of course. Even in exile, the Noldor were not so divorced from the other Amanyar as to consider unbound hair anything but scandalous, though the painstakingly detailed fashions fell out of favor.)

He paused halfway through the braid for kingship.

Elrond and Elros nearly always wore their hair in indicative Noldorin braids. Perhaps he could find insight in them as to the twins' situation?

Elros always covered his hair (modest but out of fashion), so there would be little help from him, but Elrond did not.

Think! There had been the gender braid, and two for his crafts, architecture and healing. Gil-Galad had not noticed his family braid or its symbolic beads, but his title -- his braid of rank had declared him still to be a prince.

It was not as if there was no recognized pattern for "prisoner;" those who had escaped from Angband had made one to share their identity as former captives, and simply removing the "former" part of the pattern would do it.

Despite that, he had not seen anything of the kind, which probably meant something. He would take a closer look at dinner.

The full meaning of that thought hit him.

All the stories were quite clear: to eat their food was to owe a debt and be forever trapped. Could he refuse, though, without breaking etiquette? Worse things happened to the impolite.

He had brought food with him, but would have to ration it, not knowing how long he would stay. There was probably enough for a month; he would not starve, but that presented no options for the feast tonight, or for every other meal with the kings he presumed he would have to sit through.

He continued the long, long process of redoing his braids, deep in thought.

(Not for the first time, Gil-Galad wondered why the twins had taken so strongly to the custom, when as Sindar it would be perfectly normal to leave their hair down. Even styles that were only partially braided were gaining traction among the Noldor.

On the other hand, he would hardly put it past Maedhros and Maglor to insist on "appropriate" hair from everyone, including their hostages.)

Maybe the twins could help him with regard to dinner.

After ensuring his presentability, Gil-Galad sought them out, and found them in a nearby sunny pavilion (one firmly on the ground, thank goodness), where they sat reading.

Elros had a pile of letters beside him, and a lap desk full of stationery for answering them, while Elrond leaned back against a pillar, engrossed in a weighty tome titled Principles of Dwarven Architecture as Observed in Khazad-Dûm. They looked up as he entered.

Elrond's face broke into a smile, and he marked his place before closing the book. "Cousin! How did you find your rooms? Is the wardrobe working?"

"It is, but I admit I know not how. What does it do?"

"It is a marvel of woodworking and the arts of the Fair Folk," said Elros. "The wardrobe contains a selection of clothes tailored to the desires of the one who opens it, as long as what is taken out is put back later. You should have no trouble finding something for the feast."

"That was... generous of them, to let me use such a thing." Suspicious, more like.

"Nothing but the best for honored guests of Imladris," said Elrond.

"Speaking of the feast tonight," said Gil-Galad, "I was under the impression that the food here is enchanted. Will it be safe?" There was probably no saving the twins from it, given how long they had been here.

Elrond said, "It will. They will declare it so, before the feast begins."

"That is a relief," said Gil-Galad (an understatement), "but I assume that this will not be true in the future. How can I refuse what is offered me after tonight?"

"Simply eat beforehand and say that you have; that is hardly rude," said Elros. He lowered his voice. "And, as it happens, there are a few fruit trees in the orchard that are safe to eat from, the ones I planted myself."

Gil-Galad's eyes widened. That would enable him to safely stay for a long time indeed! "How might I find them?"

"Those trees, and only those, will be marked with purple ribbon. I shall make sure of it," said Elrond.

Elros gave a regretful smile to Gil-Galad. "This will be strange, but I am afraid this is how it must be done, in a place like this." He cleared his throat. "I hereby freely give permission for you to eat from the trees in the orchard that I planted, until such time as I revoke this permission and inform you of doing so."

A tiny thrill of magic rang through the air.

"There," said Elros. "You should be fine."

"Do you always have to do things this way?" Gil-Galad said, blinking away the small dazzles from his eyes.

"For extended things, yes. One-time gifts are much simpler; I need only hand you something and declare it freely given."

Gil-Galad gave a hum in answer, not knowing what to say.

Sunset, and therefore dinner, came quicker than Gil-Galad would have liked. He dressed in indigo robes from the wardrobe and steeled himself.

Elrond and Elros awaited him outside the door to escort him to the great hall.

"You will be sitting to my left," said Elros, "so follow me when we enter. There will be dancing and music after dinner, which..." He trailed off. The dangers of fairy dances were well known.

"If you wish to participate in the dance, tonight is the safest chance you will get," Elrond finished. "Tea will be served after the main course; it is magic, but not unsafe."

The hall had been filled with tables and benches since Gil-Galad had arrived, and the floating lights had multiplied to illuminate the room now that the sun had set.

Wilwarindë stood by the rightmost chair at the high table, facing the hall, but she turned to greet the trio. "You shall be just there, your majesty," she said, gesturing to the seat at the right of Maedhros's throne, as befit the guest of honor.

Elros stood at the place to the left of Wilwarindë. Idly, Gil-Galad wondered if this meant he outranked Elrond, whose seat was on the other side, past Maglor's throne. More likely, they took turns.

Past Elrond stood Erestor, whom Gil-Galad recognized as one of those who had brought the twins to Gil-Galad when they had first been released.

They did not wait long before the kings appeared and took their places. The informal chatter of the hall ceased.

Maglor said, "I am honored to announce that High King Gil-Galad is joining us tonight for the feast. Therefore, we have ensured that the meal is safe for him and will not leave him trapped here."

The two kings sat, prompting everyone else to do the same, and the first course appeared on the plates from thin air.

Chapter 5: No Matter What You See

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The first course was a flatbread topped with peppers and green onions, hot and fresh. Upon seeing other people begin to eat, and their lack of surprise at its sudden appearance, he took a bite.

It was the best thing he had ever tasted.

The food would not trap him here, he reminded himself in an attempt to calm his fear, but that did not mean it would not be addictive. He expected the flatbread to taste less good, somehow, when he realized that it was sinister, but it did not.

He attempted to observe his neighbors at the table, but he found Maedhros more intimidating than he could handle, and Elros seemed at ease with the proceedings.

(There should not have been a question as to whether the twins were well-fed, but under the circ*mstances, Gil-Galad felt a sudden great relief wash over him upon seeing Elros treat this as normal.)

Gil-Galad could not see Elrond's braids from here, but Elros had covered his hair with cloth-of-gold, and both wore shining gold jewelry; their robes were in white and purple silk, carefully nonpartisan colors. At least, they wore no red, and the only eight-pointed stars were those on their circlets. Their garments and such were an ostentatious display of riches, but one which gave Gil-Galad hope that Elros and Elrond were well-treated in other areas of their lives as well.

(There was still no sign of the Silmarils. He had expected Maedhros and Maglor to be wearing them.)

The second course, when the plates from the first had disappeared, was a bowl of gnocchi with a pesto sauce and mushrooms. It, too, was miraculously good.

Gil-Galad wondered who had made it. The pasta had to be enchanted, to taste so incredible, but it must have required great skill all the same.

"Are you enjoying your dinner?" said Maedhros. Gil-Galad tried to hide his startlement at hearing him speak so suddenly.

"Yes, very much so," Gil-Galad replied. He held back the incomprehensible string of praises that sat upon his tongue, for the sake of dignity.

Maedhros smiled (Gil-Galad had never heard of him smiling before). "I am glad." He sounded genuine, but said no more.

To Gil-Galad's right, Elros murmured, "He cooked this all himself, you know. He would never let anyone else cook for a guest so important."

Somehow, that worried him even more than the words Maedhros had spoken.

Soon the second course disappeared, and the hall took on a more relaxed atmosphere as gently steaming cups of tea appeared on saucers.

He glanced at Elros for explanation, and saw him leaned back in his chair. "This is the break before dessert," Elros explained, seeing the question in his face. "The most formal part is over."

True enough, the low rumble of conversation in the hall became a bright cacophony of speech and laughter.

"Do you have these feasts often?" asked Gil-Galad, feeling more at ease to speak.

"Not so often, no; this sort of thing is only done for special occasions. The food, though, is not out of the ordinary in the least, since he always cooks for us. Now drink your tea," said Elros, "it will show you a vision of things that have been."

Gil-Galad drank his tea. It filled his mouth with warmth and the taste of lemongrass and rosehips and other things he had no name for, and his mind with a flood of gold and silver.

The shining flood cleared to reveal a room, one more in line with traditional architecture than Imladris, likely a fortress of some sort. Upon a couch sat Maedhros and Maglor, less resplendent than they were now, and a much younger Elros and Elrond.

The children were curled up between their captors, weeping, as Maedhros and Maglor each held one of them enfolded in their arms. Gil-Galad felt his heart break, glad he had not been forced to witness that which had brought the twins to this state.

But then the kinslayers moved, and he realized with growing horror that the torment was not yet over.

Maglor had shifted away from the child he held, whom Gil-Galad could now identify as Elrond, and begun to unbind his hair. Maedhros did the same to Elros, though slower due to his missing hand.

If he had not known this to be a vision, Gil-Galad would have backed away in horror and averted his eyes. As it was, he could only watch as Elrond and Elros endured this -- this cruelty, this horror, this terrible disregard for their boundaries!

(No wonder Elros covered his hair, if he was used to his jailers doing this. It was at least a small protection.)

And what overstep! Children, by custom, had their hair cared for only by close family, usually parents. For their captors to do such a thing -- it was unthinkable.

But the children slowly calmed. Their sobs subsided as their hair was gently combed and then returned to braids. Maedhros and Maglor smiled down at them all the while, something strangely like fondness written on their features.

Gil-Galad could hardly stop watching, no matter how intrusive it felt, but guilt and shame welled up within him for seeing what ought to be private, even if it were a mockery of familial intimacy.

When Maglor and Maedhros finished their work, they gave the children kisses atop their heads and held them close. The twins breathed slowly and evenly, relaxed enough to fall asleep.

The silver and gold overtook his vision again, and he blinked his eyes open in the great hall of Imladris, mere moments after he had first drunk the tea, though the vision had been an hour long.

He fought to keep his face from betraying the horror of what he had seen, but he did not trust himself to look at Elros without weeping.

He put down his teacup and attempted to act casual. "What is it meant to show you?"

"Something you need to see," said Elros. "I myself saw what became of my favorite scarf; Elrond took it and did not tell me." Seeing Gil-Galad's stricken expression, he assured, "No one will be so intrusive as to ask about yours; we do have some manners here."

Gil-Galad flinched in guilt at the word intrusive.

"I would prefer," he said, "not to speak of what I saw, but the tea was delicious."

The dessert course appeared, a trio of chocolate-dipped biscotti and a second cup of tea.

It is important to detail, at this juncture, the dislike that Gil-Galad bore for biscotti.

He had no quarrel with the concept; indeed, hard cookies that kept well were often the only kind of dessert one could obtain in Beleriand. However, as many do when confined to a single choice, Gil-Galad grew sick of them. The fact that he had once chipped a tooth on one did not help.

Therefore, Gil-Galad was (perfectly reasonably, in his opinion) mistrustful of biscotti at best.

Maedhros, however, was an accomplished cook and baker, and did not know of others' bad experiences with the cookie, for his never reached such levels of toughness unless very stale indeed.

His cooking had been thought extraordinary in the Blessed Realm and Beleriand both. Here, though, as the Fairy King, that which he made fell beyond the bounds of imagination.

Gil-Galad looked at his plate and wished it would not be impolite to refuse to eat the biscotti. To his right, Elros gave a small exclamation and beamed, dipping and eating a cookie with enthusiasm.

Perhaps the claim Elros had made, that he and Elrond were always well fed, was false after all. No one who had grown up on such foods as were served at this feast would be so thrilled for biscotti.

He glared at his plate once more. One of the cookies contained chocolate, another nuts of some sort, and the third dried berries. Failing to eat one would be a breach of etiquette, a potentially fatal disrespect to his host, but after that he could claim to be full. He picked up the berry cookie and looked askance at his tea.

"This is the same tea, but without the effect of visions," said Maedhros in a strangely soft voice upon noticing the direction of his gaze. "It is enchanted instead to give its imbiber energy for the coming dances."

Gil-Galad picked up the berry cookie, dunked it in his tea, and steeled himself. He took a bite and--

Oh.

It tasted good.

It was the slightest bit chewy, even, and easier to eat than any biscotti he had tried in the past. It tasted of cranberries and orange, and the tea.

Magic indeed. He wondered briefly if the tales were true, that all the Fair Folk's food was merely dust enchanted to fool the senses; surely no biscotti could truly be this good.

(He was focused on his dessert, but did not fail to see the soft and satisfied, verging on smug, smile of Maedhros to his left.)

Gil-Galad finished all three of his biscotti and all of his tea before he noticed what he was doing.

Everyone else had eaten theirs as well, it appeared, for the plates disappeared and the tables soon after, the chairs of the long tables arranging themselves into an arc with the fae still seated. The floor, now cleared, turned to crystal through which light bent and reflected, a magical place to dance.

Maglor clapped his hands, and the music began.

Chapter 6: Would Never Tire

Chapter Text

The music! Enticing and lively, and Gil-Galad wanted nothing more than to rise from his seat and dance to it, but no one had yet indicated that such would be appropriate.

He did not have long to wait, however, for Elrond and Elros both stood and moved to stand, looking hopeful, before the Fairy Kings.

"Go and dance, dear ones," said Maedhros, smiling at them indulgently. He and Maglor gave each of the twins a kiss on the head.

Elros and Elrond went to the center of the newly rearranged ballroom as the music came to a cadence and paused.

The beat began again, and they danced, in intricate steps and light jumps to the music of a gigue.

Where their feet touched the ground, colorful light rang through the crystal floor with every step, forming patterns that lit the room. The dance was not long, but it was beautiful.

At the end, the Court applauded, and many of the Fair Folk took to the dance floor, forming a circle to dance a lively branle.

Gil-Galad worried. The twins had, presumably, done this before, but -- well, he did not much like the idea of them doing such things for the Court's entertainment, especially not when he had heard tales of mortals dancing themselves to death.

"They are skilled dancers, are they not?" said Maedhros. "It is always a fine evening when they perform."

Hearing this was even worse, somehow, than merely guessing that Elrond and Elros were oftentimes made to amuse the Court in such a way.

"They are," he said, "but these dances are quite energetic; I hope they will not overtire themselves." He hoped his tone managed to convey a warning.

Maedhros seemed unconcerned. "Oh, they will exhaust themselves, just like they do every time, and Maglor and I shall have to drag them away as they insist they are not tired, and they will sleep in late tomorrow."

For some reason, Gil-Galad was not comforted by this confirmation that the dance was indeed irresistible, that Elrond and Elros had fallen victim to it before.

The song ended. Maglor spoke up from the other side of Maedhros, saying, "I believe the princes wish you to join them for a dance. Will you, guest?" And, as if to confirm what the king said, the orchestra played the opening bars of "Á Querë Sillë, Merillincë," a familiar court dance for trio.

It would be rude to refuse, and surely he could stop after one dance.

He stepped onto the dance floor, which burst into color under his feet, and joined hands with Elros and Elrond. Predictably enough, they had chosen to be the outer pair, so he would stand between them and dance the middle part.

He missed not a single step, though dance had never been his area of expertise (he was learning now, but it had hardly been important in the smoldering ruin of Beleriand), caught up in the unearthly music that nonetheless took the shape of the tune he knew, and understood why mortals danced forever.

When the song ended and the applause began, he felt a great desire to join the next dance, but pushed it down. Instead, he suggested to his partners, "Would you like to sit down? You must be out of breath after such exertions."

"Oh, no, not yet," said Elrond. "It is only three songs into the night! We shall not sit any out until at least ten."

"It is the Candlestick Branle next, which is hardly energetic; we can easily catch our breath," said Elros. "I doubt, though, that you ought to participate. You see, we do not use the candlesticks."

True to his words, the fae gathering in the center of the dance floor held no candlesticks in their right hands, but small flames that sat in the palm.

Gil-Galad obediently sat down, wishing there were a way to stop the twins from burning. He could take the place of one of them, and carry fire in their stead, but not save both.

The fire-holders began their movement about the room, with smooth steps as if gliding on air. Gil-Galad could hardly stand to look at them for long, their appearances so wondrous as to depart from reality that it hurt his eyes.

The time came for the dancers to choose partners from those who waited, and much to the dismay of Gil-Galad, Elros and Elrond were chosen quickly. He waited with bated breath through the paired dance for the handing over of the flame.

It was doubtful if he could stop the dance when they were hurt, but surely Maedhros and Maglor would do something, would they not? Elrond and Elros seemed to have no complaints of their treatment; they must be taken care of to an extent or they could never have survived so long.

He tried to silence the thought that the kings would simply heal them later, and perhaps erase the memory of pain to keep them complacent.

(He tried even harder to silence the thought that such magicks would allow them to hurt the twins over and over without them knowing.)

He braced himself as the little fires changed hands, but--

The twins did not burn.

They held the flames in their left hands as a matter of course, unharmed, as if nothing could be more natural, and the dancers wove patterns across the floor with their lights. Later, when the dance ended, he looked to their hands, which remained unmarked. How could this be?

It was not until nine dances later that he convinced the twins to sit one out, and they rejoined on the very next song despite his worry. The dancing was poised to continue through the night to dawn, none of the dancers save the twins appearing to tire in the least.

But it seemed that Maedhros had not lied when he had spoken to Gil-Galad, for after what felt like many hours, the Fairy Kings descended from their thrones and pulled Elrond and Elros from the dancing, much to their protest.

"Come along, darlings," he heard Maglor murmur, "you must sleep, you know."

"I will pick you up if I must," said Maedhros, tugging a resisting Elrond behind him.

Gil-Galad made his excuses and followed, hoping to ensure the safety of his young cousins, or at least discover more about their situation.

Nothing untoward occurred as he trailed after the little group, and soon enough he saw the kings give the twins each a goodnight hug and kiss before gently encouraging them to go to sleep. Once the bedroom doors were closed, Maedhros and Maglor went to their own rooms. Gil-Galad did the same.

Sleep did not find him easily; he lay awake, lost in thought. So much had happened; it felt as if he had been in Imladris much longer than a day.

The vision especially worried him. Had such things as he had seen been a regular occurrence? Were they still? A fool had Gil-Galad been, to fear for the twins only pain and not this sort of torture, this violation.

(To touch another's hair at all, much less to braid it, was unthinkable save between close family and life partners. This was torture, same as all the rest of what Elrond and Elros had faced, merely of a more emotional nature.)

And what fine fabrics the kings permitted Elros to cover his hair with! A meaningless concession to his comfort, a gilding of the cage; it was not as if a thin layer of cloth would stop them from doing this again and again to revel in the power they held over their prisoners.

Strange, though, how Elros and Elrond had calmed at the touch, how content they seemed to be now.

Was the answer something hidden in the braiding itself? It was said that Lúthien wove her hair into a cloak of shadows; could not the fae weave enchantment into the hair of a victim? To braid the hair of another was to assert a claim. Perhaps this was the reason behind the old custom in the first place.

The twins would have to unbind their hair to ever leave, then. He could never wish such an indignity upon them, but if it were the only way to escape the way they were treated, it might well be the lesser torment.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would look at the braids Elrond wore, and learn more of their lives. Tonight he must put out of his mind the terrible things he had seen and try to find rest.

His dreams that night were only the vision, repeated over and over till he awoke.

Chapter 7: A Mortal Man in Magic Twined

Chapter Text

It was late morning when Gil-Galad woke from his uneasy sleep, still feeling better rested than he ever had. Sun streamed through the window, painting his room gold, and he heard again the joyous bells and music of Faerie from outside, joined by the singing of many birds.

Thinking on the previous night as he readied himself for the day, he wondered once more how Elrond and Elros had managed to hold fire in their hands.

He would have understood if they had been burned but showed no trace of injury the next day, for he doubted not that they could be easily healed, but to be seemingly immune -- it could not be possible!

And yet, the fairy folk themselves had held the fire as well. Could the ability be granted to those who did not possess it? Perhaps, along with the fae food, there were other gifts given to keep the twins trapped in this place, and this was one.

They seemed to be healthy, and were certainly kept in comfort, from what he had seen (in luxury even), but none of this meant they were not being hurt, only removed potential methods of it.

He left his room and knocked on the door to Elros’s room, hoping that he might be shown to the orchard he had spoken of.

Elros opened the door, yawning. Unlike the last time he had been awoken by Gil-Galad, his hair was covered, today in a shining hair net set with jewels. It appeared to be sea silk, though Imladris lay hundreds of miles from the sea. “Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. How are you? You seemed exhausted last night.”

Elros shrugged. “I am well. It is a pity my brother and I missed so much of the dancing -- it tends to go to dawn, you know, but we never are allowed to stay the full time. Overprotective, I call it.”

Gil-Galad, willing to grasp at any straws indicating that the kings cared for the safety of Elros and Elrond, chose to take this at face value. “I suppose they do not wish to see you hurt yourselves,” he said with caution.

"I know, but really! We are seventy-two years old; I believe we can handle a simple celebration."

"You looked about to collapse by the time you left," Gil-Galad observed dryly. "I distinctly remember, too, how often you would turn in early during those revels in the wake of Morgoth's defeat." Like the night Elrond had been taken, he realized too late, but to his relief Elros seemed to think nothing of it.

"I shall be expected for a late breakfast," said Elros. "Would you care to help me wake my brother? He may be more elven now, but he sleeps deeply indeed after great excitement, at least when he knows himself to be safe."

Another knot of worry untied itself. True, the twins were almost certainly mind-turned, but the enchantment made them happy. Things could be worse. They were safe.

(Or, at least, they thought themselves to be.)

The two of them woke Elrond, who glared at them for this rude behavior and shut the door in their faces, saying to let him dress for breakfast. Elros returned to his room to do the same as Gil-Galad awaited them in the hall.

Soon the twins emerged, dressed in green and gold, and once again wore their delicate circlets emblazoned with Fëanor’s star, which Gil-Galad found himself beginning to hate. He looked at Elrond's braids, hoping to glean more information from them as he had planned, but the young elf's hair, by inconvenient coincidence, lay not in the indicative patterns but in a braided crown across his head, adorned with jeweled flowers.

Knowing not the way, he followed them to a courtyard where breakfast was laid on a small circular table. The scent of blooming roses filled the air of the little space, and vines of ivy twined about bower clematis on the walls.

Maedhros and Maglor sat already at the table drinking tea, less resplendent than at the feast, but intimidating still. They smiled as he and the twins entered the courtyard.

“Good morning, darlings,” said Maglor, giving Elros a kiss on the cheek as he took the seat by him. Maedhros did the same to Elrond. Gil-Galad took the last available seat, looking in wonder on the meal laid for them and valiantly attempting not to show his hunger.

Elrond poured tea for Gil-Galad from a delicate porcelain teapot painted with more bower clematis, the four leaves reminiscent of the four-pointed star of Gil-Galad's heraldry.

(Did not most varieties of clematis have eight petals? He had heard it called the Fëanor flower before.)

He blinked. While he had been focused on the teapot, Elros had taken the liberty of filling his plate for him with strawberries, an omelette, and an unfamiliar pastry, none of which Gil-Galad felt safe eating though the rest of the table showed no such care.

Noticing his hesitance, Maedhros said, "Nothing have you to fear; is it not the obligation of the host to provide fare for the guest? Hospitality demands it, and I should prove myself an unworthy host, much against the customs of my people, were I to harm or enchant you upon your second meal shared in my house."

He had not said the food would not bind him. Gil-Galad sat tense, hoping to discover the truth by scrutinizing the Fairy King and finding nothing. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Elros give a tiny nod of confirmation.

That was enough; he boldly picked up the pastry and took a bite. It was an intensely buttery thing, and filled with sugar, and he felt he might weep at its perfection.

(The magic was to blame, of course. It could never be so good naturally, could it? But he felt no binding upon him, so there was some safety.)

Breakfast went quickly, after that, and Gil-Galad forced his fear down in an attempt to be a good conversation partner. When it ended, Maglor addressed Gil-Galad.

"I believe Elros and Elrond wish to give you a tour, if you feel up to it," he said. "You have seen little of our home."

"I would be honored," said Gil-Galad, causing the twins to grin and pull him from his chair, not bothering even to bow in departure from the kings in their excitement to show him around.

After leaving the courtyard, Elros said, "Let us show you to the orchard! The safe trees have been marked, and you shall need to know the way."

"Did not the king say something about the rules of hospitality, that I would not be harmed?" asked Gil-Galad.

"Binding you is not harm," said Elrond, "for you could be made very happy here. Should you eat the fairy food again, after the first day of hospitality has passed, it is taken to mean that you are willing to stay."

After that worrying sentence, and the confirmation that the twins were bound and enchanted into contentment, their conversation turned to other matters. Elrond took great pleasure in pointing out the details in the architecture that he had designed himself.

(Was it kindness, to allow him to build his own prison? To be bound by chains of his own making, by the great temptation of his craft?)

They entered a garden whose left side opened into a meadow of countless flowers, as its right became rows of vines and arbors. And just ahead, down the little winding path through the garden, lay a great orchard.

"Not everything is ripe at present, of course," said Elrond, "though the fruits can be sung into season by those with that power." Gil-Galad had never heard of such a power, but many impossible things had he seen since arriving.

"We have marked the safe trees with purple, and only those," said Elros, gesturing to a cherry tree laden with fruit and decorated by a ribbon.

"Truly, I cannot thank you enough," said Gil-Galad. "I know you said I owe you nothing for it, but if there is any way I may help you I shall, as a kinsman and a friend." In his heart, he hoped to hear an admission of need, that they desired to leave Imladris or felt themselves less than satisfied.

But Elrond smiled. "Nothing need we save your company, cousin, for while Imladris is a perfect home, and hardly lonely, as you know we have but few visitors."

"Then for you I shall stay a time, and assure you that I am by your side if you should ever be in need."

Chapter 8: Pleasant is the Fairy Land

Chapter Text

The days wore away as smoothly as water flowed through the many rivers of Imladris, and Gil-Galad grew accustomed to its strangeness, eating from the orchard and drinking from the streams no matter how enticing the fare that Maedhros prepared. Yet still he glimpsed no unhappiness in Elros or Elrond, only gladness and contentment, and they spoke no word against the Fairy Kings nor showed discomfort in their presence.

And yet, he still saw no sign of the Silmarils.

It was a week into his stay when Gil-Galad began to notice the oddness of the twins themselves.

Elros and Elrond glowed, lit from within as if Calaquendi, and a terrible, impossible thought began to take form in his mind.

Perhaps Elrond had been in danger when he was first taken, and he had panicked and done the only thing that would make him untouchable, unable to be harmed: absorbed the light of the Silmaril.

(It was hardly a stretch, given what was said about Eärendil, that he had melded with the jewel he wore.)

And if Elros had done the same -- did not the Oath demand that the twins be kept by the Fëanorians, safe from any who might take them? It would explain a great deal, starting with the absence of the Silmarils.

Then there was the behavior of Maedhros and Maglor towards the twins. They were constantly giving Elrond and Elros kisses on the head, or hugging them, or giving some other affectionate touch. Gil-Galad had even glimpsed what seemed to be repetitions of his vision, the twins possessively held in their captors' arms. He knew the braiding of their hair was enchantment, so this must be as well.

And it was no wonder that Elros and Elrond were treated well and made comfortable and shown great affection; to do otherwise to the Silmarils must be unthinkable to the Sons of Fëanor, who prized nothing more.

(He had been confused at first, having thought that the kings would as a matter of course flaunt the Silmarils. Only now did he realize that they had been doing so all along.)

At least the twins were content and in no danger, he reminded himself.

In fact, when he finally caught a glimpse of Elrond's braids in full, it was the familial braid that surprised him. It indicated one sibling, with a purple bead to symbolize Elros, and four parents.

Two of those beads were silver, one marked with the six-pointed star of Eärendil in gold, the other with a white bird. These were surprising enough; Gil-Galad had not expected Maedhros and Maglor to allow the twins anything of their family.

But it was the other two that shocked him: one red and one blue, each emblazoned with the star of Fëanor in mithril. According to these, Maedhros and Maglor were parents to Elrond and Elros, and had, if Gil-Galad guessed right, put the beads in the braids themselves.

(At least, "parents" was the closest analogue to what the Fairy Kings were to them. It was an assertion of the twins being theirs, as the Oath demanded they be.)

He was comforted by the knowledge that they were safe, but made fearful, too. No one, he knew, had ever kept a Silmaril and failed to become greedy and grasping, and the Fairy Kings had in their possession two that lived and breathed. He knew not what it was he feared, but felt unease within his heart.

Nonetheless, despite his misgivings, his time in Faerie was far from unpleasant, for its royal family (however much it pained him to call them so, however inaccurate it was) were attentive hosts, and Maedhros especially seemed dedicated to his comfort, likely because of his responsibility as head of the household.

Once or twice he tried to ask for the freedom of Elros and Elrond, and even knowing he would be denied it felt like failure when the refusal came. Instead of continuing to ask, he chose to think on methods of rescue and escape, that he might perhaps free his young cousins without the leave of their so-called fathers (for the twins did call them so, happily and without reservation).

All in all, he happily spent a month in Imladris as an honored guest of the kings, but knew not how to proceed. His people soon would need him, and he wished not to remain forever, though the thought of abandoning Elrond and Elros tore at him.

He knew he must leave soon, for he ran low on food from the outside world, and told his cousins so, who expressed sadness at his leaving. He intended not to bring up any sensitive topic, and yet -- he must know.

"It is strange that I have not yet seen the Silmarils," he said pointedly. "I thought the kings would wish to flaunt them. Lie they in some vault impenetrable, never to see the light of day?"

But Elrond and Elros only blinked at him. "Did you not know?" said Elrond. "The Silmarils burned them, for their crimes, and they threw the gems away rather than be hurt further."

Gil-Galad felt his theories crumble to dust. "Truly?" he said, in as conversational a tone as he could muster. "I would not have guessed that they would give them up, though I am less surprised by the burning." Why did they treat the twins in such a way, then, and why go to such lengths to demonstrate control, if they were not the revered treasures they had sought?

"There are few who would hold to that which hurt them. The Enemy was a fool," said Elros.

Gil-Galad remembered the dance with the flames. The twins must have been granted some immunity, but the irony of them holding fire unburnt was not lost on him.

No matter. Everyone knew that it was the way of the Fair Folk to steal away children, though no one quite knew what happened after that. Perhaps Elros and Elrond still were prized possessions of the kings, not the Silmarils but rather treasures taken from a conquered enemy, dressed all in gold and silver and carefully hoarded and called princes in mockery.

(The reason mattered little; the fact of their treatment remained. He worried, though, for now he knew they were not quite so precious as to be above harm.)

But the reason Gil-Galad left Imladris was not only his dwindling supplies of safe food -- no, it was a conversation with King Maedhros that sparked his departure.

He had hinted, of course, that it would soon be time for him to leave, so as not to give the impression that he was willing to be trapped forever (no matter how perfect the valley might be), and soon after implying so, Maedhros found him in the halls of the palace.

"Good morrow, your majesty," said Maedhros pleasantly, in the same kind tone he always used to speak with him. There was something hidden behind it, but Gil-Galad knew not what. Ill intent, most likely.

"Good morrow," he said in return, for there was no call for rudeness.

Maedhros seemed for a moment to hesitate, but spoke nonetheless. "I wonder," said he, "if you should like these." He held out in his hand a number of hair ribbons, golden and shining in the sun.

Gil-Galad froze. He knew better than to accept any gift from the Fair Folk, much less the sort that might enchant and bind him as the twins had been.

(He knew also that anything offered three times must be accepted.)

"That is kind of you, but no; though they are lovely, I cannot accept."

The king's smile faltered, but he said, "Of course. I bid you good day." He swept off down the hall.

Knowing himself to be unsafe, he hurried in his preparations to depart, lest he become unable to escape. Yet nothing came of the fear which gripped him, for he was not stayed, only told that he would be missed.

"Farewell," said Maglor at his departure, "and safe travels! You shall reunite with your people who remain within the outer boundaries shortly; they have not left."

"And you are welcome to return whenever you wish," said Maedhros. "It is my hope that we will again have the honor of your presence soon."

Gil-Galad bowed. "I thank you for your gracious hospitality," he said, and took his leave.

He was not stopped by anyone as he left Imladris, nor was he stopped by the ring of mushrooms, but as he crossed the boundary it was as if the world turned on its head, so dizzy did he feel. As he stumbled from Faerie, the world without seemed less full of color and wonder, and the memories of his time within distorted, incompatible with the rest of Middle-Earth.

But one thing he did recall: "They live," he cried, tripping over his own feet. "They live!"

"Truly?" said Dramhor, who was here, who was safe, thank whatever powers had kept them so!

"I saw them. Already my thoughts grow confused, my recollection strange, but they live!"

Chapter 9: She Showed No Fear

Chapter Text

Gil-Galad returned to Lindon, still mostly in a daze, trying to communicate to Dramhor what he had seen. The wonders and glories fell flat on his tongue, and the memories refused to be described, but he did manage to express that he had seen Elrond and Elros, that they were alive and, at least from what he had observed, well cared-for, though clearly under enchantment and unable to leave.

(It was in only hushed whispers to Círdan that he spoke of his terrible surmises, unwilling to put them to words too loudly for fear that he was right. Or fear that he was wrong, and the truth worse.)

Lindon was better than Imladris. Safer, to be certain, and more real. And yet no earthly food compared to the sole two meals of Maedhros's make that he had eaten, nor even the fruit of the trees Elros planted; no flowers gave such sweet perfume as those in the gardens there; no music affected him so greatly as that of Maglor upon the harp of bone, and a longing awoke in his heart to return to the beauty of Faerie, which he pushed away and ignored.

He ought to finish unpacking. Once he felt settled back in, those thoughts would fade.

He put nearly everything back into its rightful place, but the flint knife from Dramhor was nowhere to be found, no matter how hard he searched. Had he even unpacked it, back in Imladris? It had not left his pack that he remembered.

His hand closed around a hilt. Found it! he thought, and pulled the dagger from his pack.

It was not the same dagger.

The knife of flint had been plain and serviceable, but this -- this was ornate and lovely, and most noticeably, made of steel. It seemed to be old, parts of the decoration worn away, with neither a maker's mark nor one of ownership visible.

Gil-Galad felt his blood run cold. Was this a threat?

Then a new thought, worse still, came to him. He had, however unintentionally, accepted a gift from the Fair Folk, which meant he owed. But if they had taken his own knife, perhaps it counted as an exchange? He hoped so.

Five years passed as Gil-Galad worried for his young cousins, but no one had yet managed to enter Imladris save himself, and leading the building of new lives was too vital for him to leave. Eventually, though, things ran smoothly enough for him to justify going on this diplomatic mission.

To his surprise, when he announced his leaving, a group of Men approached him, led by a young woman (though that had a different definition now that some Men had received extended lives; she was in fact forty-six).

"Greetings, your majesty," she said in perfect Sindarin. "My name is Inzilarî. Would you mind terribly if a few of my people and I joined you on your way to Imladris?"

"Of course you may, but might I ask why?" It was hardly a place to visit for no reason, even if one could enter.

She looked at him as if the answer were obvious. "We go to see Elros; what else? It has been determined among the Edain that he shall lead our peoples to the Isle of Gift, which even now takes shape. I lead in his absence, though he does correspond with us regularly."

So that was why Elros wrote so many letters! Strange that he was permitted to do so, but Gil-Galad had seen how indulgent the kings were to their prisoners.

There was one problem, however.

"But how is he to lead, if he is unable to leave Faerie?" he asked.

"They cannot hold him forever," said Inzilarî, "for he has chosen the fate of Men, but in Faerie he cannot age and die, and they shall not kill him. They must release him one day; even now he plans for his freedom. And, of course, Prince Elrond has been providing plans for the capital city being built; he is -- well, he is remarkably insistent about his artistic vision."

"It certainly sounds like him," Gil-Galad agreed, not remarking upon the fact that she called Elrond prince but gave Elros no title. They must be close indeed for her to do so. "If it is your wish to make the journey, when will you and your people be ready?"

"Give us two days, your majesty."

Two days later, they set off, though Gil-Galad doubted that any of those who accompanied him would be able to cross the borders.

When they came to the standing stone, not one of the Men was stopped by the barrier, and when they reached the bridge they duly removed any iron they carried without prompting.

Seeing his puzzled look, Inzilarî said, "There are some who have been here before, you know! You were only the first of the elves to enter, or have you not heard our people's tales of Faerie?"

"I was not aware," said Gil-Galad. "I supposed that Prince Elros must have told you."

"Oh, he did; he would not let us be unprepared," she said, crossing the bridge without hesitation, "but some things can be remembered even when one wanders in or is stolen."

Gil-Galad knew not if he could cross with the dagger he had been given, but its origin was of Faerie, was it not? He steeled himself and set foot upon the bridge.

To his relief, he had no difficulty in continuing, and felt all the better for the bit of steel protection he kept with him.

When they came to the ring of mushrooms, Gil-Galad privately thought that his companions might be denied entry. To his surprise, however, they were stopped not at all, and they entered Faerie with no difficulty.

It was not, as he had expected, Wilwarindë who waited to greet them on the other side, but Elrond and Elros themselves.

"Greetings, your majesty, my lady, honored guests," said Elros in Taliska, bowing to Gil-Galad, Inzilarî, and her companions in turn. "It is my honor to welcome you all to Imladris. Will you walk with us to the palace, where we may see you situated?"

"We shall," said Inzilarî with a smile, taking his offered arm.

Gil-Galad and the rest of the Men followed the pair, who spoke as old friends, down into the valley from which joyful song rose.

Elrond fell into step beside Gil-Galad. "Welcome back, cousin," he said. "I am glad you chose to return."

"And I am glad to see you well! Tell me, how have you and your brother been?"

"We have been perfectly content, though we have missed you greatly. I have been designing the great city of the Isle of Gift, and Elros has been busy with his academic pursuits, and the gardens too. I cannot believe how he manages to find time for everything he does!"

"He and Inzilarî seem close," Gil-Galad observed, "do they know each other well?"

"Oh, certainly! And you must keep this a secret, but he is very much in love with her, and she with him."

Looking at the pair walking in the front, and how they leaned into each other, he said, "I can believe that."

They came through the valley, which now contained a few more pieces of architecture that defied nature. "I designed these," said Elrond proudly, pointing them out. "I may not be the sort for towers of silver and gold, but a few crystal spires fit this place well, I think."

Looking at the spires, the floating buildings, and the web of walkways high between them, Gil-Galad felt a sudden sympathetic vertigo for those of the Fair Folk who must live there.

Elrond drew his attention to a new building, one with a golden roof above elegant arches and elaborate stained glass. "That is the library, which is why Elros has been so busy. He is supervising a reorganization and a great copying-out of books, a number of which I believe he intends to gift to his lady."

"I must say, the new additions you have made are stunning. Are you planning more?" In a way it was soothing to hear Elrond speak of his craft flourishing, to know that it was not enchantment alone that made him content to stay.

"Yes, an addition to the greenhouse first, then a building that shall sit within one of the waterfalls, which -- oh! We have arrived." The palace stood before them, splendid as ever, and the doors opened as they approached.

"Come in," said Elros, again speaking in Taliska for the sake of his companions. "We must take you to be greeted by our fathers, and then shall you have the chance to rest before the welcome feast."

They came into the throne room where the kings awaited them, the thrones of Elrond and Elros empty, for their occupants led the guests, but the Court all in attendance.

Elrond bowed and introduced the group. "May I present High King Gil-Galad, Lady Inzilarî Nothlirêda, and her companions, the honorable Wingrôth, Vidrizimra, and Haladbor?"

"Lady Inzilarî, it is an honor to welcome you and your people as guests of my son Elros," said Maedhros. "High King, I am glad that you have returned to visit. I welcome you." He stood from his throne, and all those seated did the same. To the great surprise and mounting dread of Gil-Galad, King Maedhros descended from the dais and came to him. "Come," said Maedhros, "allow me to show you to your rooms."

Having no other choice, Gil-Galad allowed himself to be led to the same rooms as before while his traveling companions trailed after Elros in the opposite direction.

"Will they be staying elsewhere?" asked Gil-Galad, puzzled.

"Why, of course! They shall be in another wing; after all, they are hardly family."

The creeping dread that suffused him grew. He changed the subject. "My companions are guests of Elros, you said?"

Maedhros said, "They are indeed, for he cares much for their comfort and safety, and he wishes them to be under his protection. They need not fear that anything they are given shall leave them trapped, for it comes from him, and he would not do so."

Gil-Galad nodded in understanding. He understood that Inzilarî and her people were safe, as only Elros would owe anything in return for what they were given. A cruel thing to do to him, especially to dress it up as protection as if he held any real power here, but Gil-Galad knew Maedhros to be indulgent of the twins, and this was ultimately a harmless fiction.

He also understood that, as a guest of the Fairy King, he had no such safeguard.

Chapter 10: The Floor of Crystal

Chapter Text

Elrond came to fetch him for dinner, as happy as ever. "You shall have to put up with me for most of your stay," he said, "for my brother is busy with his guests and will not leave them."

"That is hardly a difficulty; I enjoy your company a great deal," said Gil-Galad. "I am glad that Elros may spend time with his friends, and that they have no need to worry for their safety or continued freedom."

"It was good of Atya to set them at ease," said Elrond, and Gil-Galad would never get used to the twins speaking of the kinslayers so, but he smiled through it. "Now, we must not be late!"

They walked through the halls together while Gil-Galad asked a question that had been on his mind since his arrival. "Is there any hope that the suit of Inzilarî might be accepted? Will your fathers allow them to marry?"

"She has not yet made her suit," said Elrond, "for she is a woman of wisdom, and knows that to ask them now would be to be refused. But if she makes her way into their good graces, they will at least consider it, so long as Elros makes it known that he intends to accept."

"Better prospects than I had thought!" Gil-Galad exclaimed. Truly, he had thought an elopement to be the only hope, which was impossible with Elros bewitched.

"Lady Inzilarî is a worthy suitor, and my fathers will recognize that, I am sure. Now, here we are!" They came into the great hall. "You shall sit here, again to the right of the host, but since we have two guests of honor the arrangement shall be different."

And just as Elrond said so, Inzilarî took her place to the left of Maedhros's seat, with Elros on her own left, then Haladbor and Wingrôth. The place to the right of Gil-Galad was empty, presumably for Maglor (though he did not look forward to an evening sitting directly between the Fairy Kings), and Elrond was next, with Vidrizimra at the far right.

The Men, like Gil-Galad, must have found their own enchanted wardrobes, for all were dressed in finery, especially Inzilarî, who wore garments embroidered in gold and whose hair was covered (as was her custom and that of her people, not unlike Elros) with silk the color of the night sky.

"Clever," said Gil-Galad, "to find a way to seat the lovers by each other."

Elrond grinned. "I am willing to allow him precedence this once, though it ought to be my turn to outrank him."

Then came the Fairy Kings to the hall, and again Maglor announced the guests and declared that the feast should do them no harm nor force them to remain (though the guests of Elros knew themselves already to be safe), and the first course appeared: dates stuffed with herbed goat's cheese and pecans.

Just like everything else he had eaten under this roof, it was unparalleled, but unlike before, in the dates he tasted somehow the feeling of being welcomed. It filled him with a warm peace, which curdled quickly into fear. Perhaps he would not be trapped by virtue of eating it, but it felt like the precursor to something that would, felt like an invitation to remain forever in this realm.

And yet he could not help but eat every one of the dates, for they tasted better than anything, better even than what he had been given on his last visit, which had been almost unreal.

The second course appeared, and was eaten as quickly as the first, a tostada warm and fresh and tasting of the togetherness of a family meal, the love of a cook for those they cook for. It nearly brought tears to his eyes, and unease crept in again. How could he ever give this up? How could he resist staying when he was so welcomed?

(Gil-Galad made conversation, but knew not what he said, the meal taking all his attention.)

The tea appeared, and the atmosphere relaxed and turned convivial. Maglor continued their conversation, saying, "Do you think you shall--" and suddenly cut off, turning to Elrond. Maglor plucked Elrond's teacup, which appeared to be filled with something other than tea, from its place, much to the disappointment of Elrond.

"Give that back!" Elrond said, trying to snatch it from Maglor's hand.

"Who gave you coffee?" Maglor demanded. "Neither of you are allowed to have the enchanted coffee, you know it will keep you up all night! Here, you may have my tea."

Elrond took it, sulking. "I still fail to see why we are not allowed to stay for the entire dance."

"Because you would hurt yourself trying to dance every single dance, and you are not an elf and need sleep to be healthy," said Maglor serenely. "And because I am a controlling parent who gives you no choice in the matter."

Gil-Galad, having gone to take a sip of his tea (raspberry and hibiscus and the joy of reunion) nearly spat it out. To hear it spoken so openly -- and no one so much as batted an eye! But he could hardly object when the decision was framed as being for Elrond's well-being, so he held his tongue.

"I will be having words with whoever you convinced to give you this," Maglor said, and Gil-Galad feared for the cook and Elrond both.

To take his mind from thoughts of what would befall those who had earned the displeasure of Maglor, he turned to Maedhros. "What effect does this tea have?" he asked, distracting the Fairy King from his conversation with Inzilarî.

"It gives a vision of the future," said Maedhros, seeming not at all displeased to have been interrupted, "but only a pleasant one, for it would be a poor host indeed who allows their guests to see that which might distress them."

Gil-Galad nodded and drank his tea. As gold and silver overtook his vision, he comforted himself with the knowledge that it would be better than the previous time, when he had watched -- no, he could hardly think of it without feeling ill.

When he could again see, the scene before him was clearly somewhere in the palace, a room he did not recognize but which looked similar to the drawing room Elros and Elrond had used to spend time with him on his previous visit. On one of the couches sat himself, dressed in the fashion of the Fair Folk and wearing no crown or circlet, with Maedhros coming to sit by him.

Then, to his horror, he watched his own hair unbound.

His future self relaxed as Maedhros combed his hair and relaxed as he called him son (and almost certainly meant possession) and Gil-Galad could not call this pleasant, but perhaps the vision did not need to be pleasant for him, only Maedhros. Then again, his future self did seem happy...

He must have traded himself for the twins; that could be the only explanation. He would never allow himself to be bound so, not unless he might rescue his cousins by it, and they were nowhere to be seen.

Gil-Galad saw his braids redone and himself gathered into the arms of Maedhros, who kissed him upon the head and held him close, and the flood of brightness that brought him back was more welcome than he could have dreamed.

(He knew now what must be done, but it could not be done yet.)

He threw himself back into the cheerful mood of the feast and ate the lemon tart that had appeared for dessert, and waited for the dancing to start, determined to at least try to enjoy himself. After the opening dance, performed again by the twins, he joined the Fair Folk upon the crystal dance floor for a lively branle, and watched Elros dance the minuet with Inzilarî.

Elros, afterwards, came to Gil-Galad and said in a low voice, "I need your aid averting suspicion; would you dance with me, and with Inzilarî? I do not wish for anyone to notice how often we dance together."

"I shall," said Gil-Galad, glad to be of help, to have a defined purpose. "But go and enjoy yourself! Your fathers shall not allow you to stay all night; you have short enough time to dance."

Elros thanked him and rushed off to dance a pavane with Haladbor.

Gil-Galad did his best to assist the scheme, and enjoy himself in the meantime, and mere hours later the twins were commanded to go to bed, and the Men took that as their cue to thank their hosts and retire; after all, if the kings thought their sons too tired to continue, it must not be safe for mortals to do so either. He, however, chose to remain, despite the raised eyebrow from Maedhros, and watched the Court for another hour.

When he slept that night, he dreamed of dancing.

Chapter 11: Any Mortal Man on Earth

Chapter Text

The next morning, Elros was not at the breakfast to which Gil-Galad was welcomed, but his empty chair remained at the table.

(Elrond appeared unharmed, thank the Valar!)

Maglor bade him good morning and explained, "Elros is having breakfast with his guests, but I am sure you may see him later. Will you not sit?"

Gil-Galad felt much more at ease at this breakfast than he had been on his first visit, and upon finding himself so, was shocked. How could he be comfortable among the kinslayers, among the fae, among those who had stolen and tormented his cousins not once but twice?

He ate his breakfast all the same, trying not to weep at the taste of comfort mixed in with the strawberries atop the fluffiest pancakes he had ever seen. Strawberries were far from in season at present, but it seemed that at the decree of the Fairy King they ripened in any season he chose.

Maedhros said, when they all had eaten, "Will you go with Elrond, your majesty, to visit Elros? I must speak with his guest the Lady Inzilarî, and he would love to see you."

Gil-Galad agreed, and he and Elrond went to what he remembered to be the drawing room the twins used. Within, they found a second sumptuous breakfast for the other visitors, all of them cheerful as Elros poured them tea. If he had known no better, Gil-Galad might have thought Elros to be their host and protector in truth, rather than merely given the illusion of power and responsibility.

(If the kings wished to harm his guests, they could, but it probably made Elros happy to think they were under his protection, and the kings were nothing if not indulgent of him.)

"Good morning!" said Elros, looking up from his teapot and carefully putting it down, handing the filled teacup to Wingrôth. "Can I help you?"

"Good morning, cousin," said Gil-Galad. "I believe King Maedhros wishes to speak with Lady Inzilarî, if she is not busy?"

The lady in question stood from her chair next to Elros, saying, "I shall be with his majesty presently, though it is regretful that I must part company with my gracious host."

"Need you any escort, my lady?" said Elros.

"I thank you, but no; I hope only that the meeting shall be brief and I may return soon."

If the two of them continued looking at each other the way they did, everyone would know of their entanglement in mere days, in Gil-Galad's opinion, but Inzilarî left to speak with Maedhros and Elros gestured for Elrond and Gil-Galad to sit.

"I plan," he said, "to give my guests a tour today, and I was hoping the two of you would come along. Elrond, I know, has been dying to speak of all he has built to a new audience. Would you join us?"

Elrond answered for them both. "We would love to. When the Lady Inzilarî returns, I assume?"

"As if we could go without her!" said Haladbor with a laugh, having to set down their tea so as not to spill it. "These poor lovers shall have an abundance of chaperones, for I doubt their majesties would allow for the scandal of Elros being alone with a fellow young and unmarried person."

"Nor would they permit their beloved son to go anywhere unsupervised, not when they may ask the very trees to watch over him," said Vidrizimra, eyes full of merriment.

For his part, Elros rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Must you embarrass me in front of the High King?"

"What are friends for?" said Haladbor.

It was an hour before Inzilarî returned, but a pleasant one, and Gil-Galad was delighted to learn more about the plans there were for the Isle of Gift, no small number of which were Elrond's own designs for how the cities and buildings ought to be.

But it was with bated breath that they all awaited the lady's news, for any dealings of hers with the Fairy Kings must be on weighty matters indeed.

"All is well," she said, and the rest of the room breathed a sigh of relief. "Their majesties merely wished to impress upon me the importance of appropriate behavior and the rules of hospitality as they apply to guests."

"Aye, it would not do for you to seduce the son of your hosts under their roof," said Wingrôth, completely deadpan. "Terrible behavior. A blessing, really, that you did so beforehand."

"You forget, my friend, that my fair Elros is our host!" said Inzilarî. "Seducing one's host is perfectly acceptable, or at least there are no rules that forbid it."

Elros covered his face with his hands.

"I think we ought to show you the valley now, before my brother dies of embarrassment," said Elrond, having mercy on Elros by changing the subject.

Everyone seemed amenable to this, and they embarked on their tour.

Elros took them to the library first, with its high domed ceilings and stained glass windows that somehow caught the light no matter the position of the sun.

"I have made copies of some works that you might find of interest," said Elros, "so you may take them with you when you leave, if they are to your liking."

"Any gift from you, beloved, is one I shall hold close to my heart," said Inzilarî, kissing his hand while her companions rolled their eyes.

"Every time, as if you forget we are in the room," Elrond grumbled. "Now, the works we chose for copying are books and manuscripts of lore, a few language treatises (half of them written or translated by Elros in the first place), and whatever could be found regarding life in warmer climates, since the Isle of Gift is much further south than any of us are accustomed to living."

"And I thank you for it, brother," said Inzilarî. She had not let go of Elros's hand, and he gazed at her with unconcealed longing in his eyes.

Vidrizimra clearly wished to remain in the library, but Elros cajoled her into continuing the tour by promising that she might return whenever she wished, and they went on.

After seeing the winery, the two amphitheatres and the concert hall, the workshops of the craftspeople (and forges -- they were Noldor, after all, fae or not), and after having begged off a tour of the healing wing, leaving Elrond mildly put out, Elros led them out through the meadow towards the edge of the valley, where they found a copse of trees by a waterfall and a picnic awaiting them in the shade.

It came to pass that Gil-Galad was seated next to Inzilarî, upon whose shoulder Elros rested his head, and at last had the chance to make more conversation with her.

"Have you any hope," he asked, "of your suit being successful? If I were you, I would have little."

"I need not the permission of his fathers to wed my love," she said. "I wish it for his sake, for he loves them and desires their approval, but we shall marry whether or not I gain it, and I am certainly not above a daring rescue if we are forbidden from one another."

"Is that wise?"

"Love never is. But what can they do against true love? I might feel insulted if they set no challenge at all for his hand."

"It had better not be too daring of a rescue," said Elros. "I like my hands where they are, thank you."

Inzilarî grinned. "And I would like them--"

"We are right here," said Elrond loudly.

"--holding mine. I would like your hands holding mine, and wearing the wedding ring I shall give you, is what I meant to say."

"You know, given the poetry you write about him, I really do believe you intended to say that in the first place," said Haladbor.

Gil-Galad laughed with the rest of the group and reached for a cookie on a platter, one with a layer of jam atop the sugar cookie and strips of cookie laid across the top, but Elrond stopped him from taking it.

"You cannot do that!" said Elrond. "These are for the guests of Elros alone, and to take any would not be wise."

"You have eaten some," Gil-Galad observed.

"Yes, because I live here," said Elrond. "I will not be trapped in my home, not by the work of my father that is given to me by my brother, but it was not granted to you to eat this food, only to them."

Gil-Galad snatched his hand back. "I thank you for the warning, cousin." He paused. "There is a matter that you might advise me on, if it is no trouble. It concerns your father King Maedhros."

"I can promise you nothing," said Elros, apparently still listening though he seemed quite occupied with staring at his love, "but ask all the same, and we shall advise you if we can."

"At the end of my last visit, he offered to me a set of golden hair ribbons, which I refused. What would have happened had I accepted?"

The twins exchanged a glance, full of meaning that Gil-Galad could not decipher.

"You would not have been trapped, I do not think," said Elrond cautiously, "or at least not by virtue of merely accepting them. You would be obliged, though, to return if ever he should will it, and that is a certainty."

Elros spoke as well, voice hushed and expression grave. "Know, though, that such a choice is weighty, and it is permanent. He will not grow bored -- my fathers would keep me forever if they could, and even when we were young we knew we would be permitted neither worldly escape nor death (though I shall have both in the end)."

"And yet you would be content, as we are," said Elrond. "It is no trial to live here, nor something to be endured, but a joy. 'Twas only in the beginning that we were at all prisoners, and you never would be."

Though the conversation turned to lighter topics, Gil-Galad felt the foreboding words of Elros ring in his ears for the rest of the day.

Chapter 12: True Love Dares

Chapter Text

Over the ensuing weeks, Gil-Galad bore witness to what must be the most obvious secret courtship in the history of Arda.

Elros and Inzilarî could barely take their eyes off one another, and spent every possible moment together, which due to the necessity of chaperones was irritatingly inconvenient for Inzilarî's companions and Elrond, who were obliged to take turns.

Three weeks after the picnic, she emerged from a meeting with the Fairy Kings in a daze.

"They gave me a chance," she said, and snapped back to full awareness. "They have given me a chance! I need only do one thing they ask, and they shall consider my suit!"

Fear filled the heart of Gil-Galad, and he wondered at the task they had set for Inzilarî. Would it be so dire as the quest of Beren, which had been intended only to kill him? They could not ask for a Silmaril (he hoped), but he could not guess what evil end they had in mind for whatever she was to do.

"What is the quest you must undertake?" said Wingrôth, speaking all their minds.

Inzilarî shook her head. "I cannot tell you, but I shall do it, whatever it takes. Worry not," she said, seeing their faces, "it will harm no one, and I think I know how it may be done. They are not pleased with my suit (seeing as how the king's hair turned to pure flame), but they allow me a chance, and that is better than I could have hoped for!"

"Congratulations, then," said Gil-Galad, and Inzilarî laughed.

"Give me no congratulations until I have earned them," she said, "when I may ask my love to wed me, when he accepts!"

Gil-Galad found himself caught up in her joy and hope, and allowed himself for the day to put aside his worries for her safety and that of the twins and instead share in her happiness.

A week and a half after Inzilarî was given her quest, Gil-Galad found the food he had brought missing. The next day, all the trees in the orchard that bore fruit had been picked bare, and he worried that this had been calculated.

Inzilarî and her people had no such worries, being hosted by Elros and assured that all they were given was safe (for it passed through his hands from his fathers, and only he owed), but Gil-Galad was not permitted any of that which was made for them, and no longer had any choice but to accept the meals that Maedhros always made him or to go hungry.

He refused the offered food, though every day there was made something yet more enticing and suited to his taste, for six days.

On the seventh, Maedhros gave him blackcurrant pancakes, and Gil-Galad ate.

(How had the Fairy King known? Had he reached into Gil-Galad's mind to find the knowledge of his favorite food, the thing that would force him to bend?

Or had he merely asked Elros, who could not disobey him by refusing to answer?)

Gil-Galad felt the urge to weep, but sensed no enchantment settle upon him, at least not one that was immediately obvious, but knew he would be bound to return if allowed to leave at all.

And yet -- he almost felt it to be worth it, the miraculous taste of his favorite food warm on his tongue, the flavor of home filling his mouth.

After he ate, Maedhros offered him the ribbons once more, and again Gil-Galad refused, knowing that he would, when he returned, have no choice. He took his leave the next day, and by some miracle managed to depart from the valley.

He met Inzilarî and her people again only two weeks after his return to Lindon, all of them safely returned and seeming to be in good health, to his relief. It was good that the Fairy Kings had not tired of the pretense of Elros placing them under his protection; Gil-Galad hoped they would not do so anytime soon.

He confessed to no one that he had eaten anything, though he knew he should; if there was help to be had he must ask in order to receive it, but could not bring himself to speak. Instead he told his trusted advisors of what he had seen of Elros and Elrond (speaking not a word of the former's lover, of course), and they worried with him for the twins.

Again did Gil-Galad feel a longing to return to Faerie, but it was no more intense than upon his previous return, and he ignored it as best he could, knowing that this would be his last time in Lindon before giving himself up to free Elrond and Elros.

(Surely the Fairy Kings would understand that he was a better choice of enchanted prisoner, a better choice of canvas upon which to display their power, a better choice of trophy. He was High King, after all, and they could not yet boast of having one of those under their power.)

He told Círdan of his plan, which the shipwright disapproved of, but he would not be dissuaded, and told his advisors and Galadriel that if he should not return, or if he should return changed and untrustworthy, she must take up leadership.

In private, Galadriel said to him, "You will return, Gil-Galad. I have Seen it, and I know it to be true."

"Have you any wisdom regarding our notorious cousins?" he asked, hoping that she did not mean he would fail.

Galadriel pursed her lips. "They were not so in Aman, when we were young, nor were they fae when I knew them in Beleriand. And yet -- it is not impossible that something may have changed them, and their people, when they first arrived, that I and mine did not encounter, that perhaps only came into full force later or was exacerbated by their Oath." She lowered her voice, as if her next suggestion would be too blasphemous to speak aloud. "And it is not impossible that the remnants of the Girdle of Melian warped them. She, too, was uncanny, and does it not strike you as strange that they have made barriers as she did?"

"I had not thought much of it, no," he admitted, "but I worry less of how they became as they are, and more of freeing my young kinsmen from them."

She blinked at him. "The answers are entwined. Unless you are sure the twins will not be changed in the same way and made fae as well..." She trailed off. He could not decide if such a change would be worse or better than eternal imprisonment, but it mattered not; he would take their place and spare them either fate. "And recall, too, the stories that Men tell of elves. That which they say of my brother Finrod is not so very different."

"I thank you," he said, taking her hands in his. "Keep the twins safe for me. From me, if it should come to that."

"It will not come to that." She hesitated, then embraced him for a short moment. "For what it is worth, I do not think they will hurt you. Fate smile on you, cousin."

"And on you."

Two years later, the longing increased so greatly that Gil-Galad could no longer ignore it, and he knew it to be because of what he had eaten. Resignedly he said his farewells and set off in search of the gilded cage of Faerie that would soon be his home (but, if he was lucky, not that of Elrond and Elros).

None of the barriers stopped him, and he felt only the barest brush of magic as he passed them, as if they no longer stood.

(Or perhaps because there was, after all, no sense in keeping out one whom the Fairy Kings desired to be an ornament to their Court.)

He knew what to expect in this land, or he thought he did.

King Maedhros himself stood beyond the barrier to welcome him, and Gil-Galad felt that his doom had come upon him at last.

Chapter 13: In Fairyland Obliged to Bide

Chapter Text

"Welcome, High King Gil-Galad," said King Maedhros warmly, as Gil-Galad stood frozen in shock. "It is an honor to host you again here in my home."

He shook himself out of it. "Thank you, King Maedhros, for your gracious welcome. It is always a joy to be received in Imladris; never before have I seen a land so fair."

Maedhros held out an arm in invitation. "Will you walk with me to the palace? The hour grows late, and the air cold." He laughed. "I suppose you would be bothered little, but I have become quite conscious of temperature in care of my sons, who feel it more acutely."

"I see," said Gil-Galad, for lack of anything else to say. Something felt off. "How have things been since last I was here?"

A smile spread across the Fairy King's face, and it almost managed not to look threatening. "Things have gone well indeed, thank you. Those friends of Elros have visited, and other acquaintances of his, and his lady has made progress on her quest. No friends of Elrond have come by, but I suppose he has always been less outgoing."

And he only had six months in which to make friends before you took him again, thought Gil-Galad.

Maedhros continued, "You are a friend of his, though, and you have come to see him, so I suppose my statement was less than accurate. He does treasure your company, you know, and Elros does too." There was something else hidden behind his words, but Gil-Galad found himself unable to discern it.

"I am glad to see them, as I ever am. If they ever wish to travel, be assured that they shall find welcome with me and my people in Lindon," said Gil-Galad, hoping that this was not too indirect a way of making his intent to trade himself known.

"They would enjoy that, I am sure," said Maedhros, "though we would miss them terribly here. It is difficult to let them go, when even now the safety we have is a strange revelation, when so recently merely leaving the home was too dangerous to think of."

A poor excuse, in Gil-Galad's opinion, but he would say nothing of it. "How are they?"

"They shall be all the better for your presence, I expect! But Elrond has designed a building to lie within a waterfall, and begun overseeing its construction, while Elros has spent his time split between the library and the gardens."

"Keeping busy, I see."

"They are young and full of energy," said Maedhros, waving a hand. "Looking at them, you would think it an unforgivable crime to take a break! But they become so restless with nothing to do."

They became more willing to leave the valley, no doubt, if they were not wrapped up in its activity, and Maedhros would not risk them seeking excitement elsewhere. Gil-Galad said, "I can understand that; after all, they have never lived in peace before. It must be strange still to lack constant change and danger." As if either of them had seen battle save when it had come to them, but the point stood.

Maedhros hummed in response, and they walked in almost-comfortable silence until coming to the palace, and only when they reached it did he realize what had seemed strange to him: there was no singing, though the bells rang as they had on his previous visits.

"Come in," said Maedhros, misinterpreting the pause in his steps. "There is no banquet tonight; I thought you might prefer a smaller family dinner. I think you will like the foods I have prepared."

"I am sure I will." Gil-Galad hesitated, but said, "I have never tasted anything so good as that which I have had here."

Maedhros beamed, leading him inside to the same rooms he always stayed in. "I shall send the twins for you in an hour," the Fairy King said, and left.

Gil-Galad hurried to unpack and make himself presentable for dinner, even if it would not be public. The wardrobe provided him with comfortable clothes, less ornate than those it gave him for feasts, but lovely all the same.

Before he had entirely composed himself, Elros called for him through the door, saying it was time to eat.

Gil-Galad hurriedly donned a circlet and went to greet his cousins, who led him to an unfamiliar dining room, one that was half greenhouse, with a glass roof where one could watch the rain fall, for the weather had turned shortly after his arrival. He sat between the twins at the round table, opposite the kings.

"Welcome back, your majesty," said Maglor with a smile. "Our apologies for the rush to dinner; I know we normally give you much more time, but I hope you will forgive our eagerness."

It did not escape notice that the meal was not promised not to enchant him, but there appeared on the plates the first course, fried zucchini flowers. Gil-Galad could not even bring himself to be surprised that early summer flowers were served in early winter, for he had seen such spectacle on his previous visit, but it still struck him as unnatural.

The flowers tasted like coming home, and Gil-Galad knew he would never leave again.

He listened as the twins spoke of their exploits, and answered the questions from Maedhros about his own, and ate the spanakopita Maedhros had prepared (and listened when Elrond whispered to him that the Fairy King had rolled out all the impossibly thin dough himself), and drank the jasmine tea that gave him no visions at all.

Maglor cut him a slice of chocolate caramel cake (how had Maedhros known that that was his favorite?) that Elrond and Elros had apparently helped to bake, and despite the work of mortal hands upon it, it tasted as unreal as everything else.

"There is no formal dancing tonight," said Maedhros, "but you are welcome to come to the Hall of Fire to listen to the music of our bards, if you wish, before you retire."

He ought to try and be comfortable in his new home. "I would love to."

The Hall of Fire was aptly named, for a great hearth sat within, around which gathered many of the Fair Folk singing and dancing. They bowed as the kings entered, and Maglor took a seat by a great harp of bone and began to play.

He sang a haunting ballad of (unfortunately for Gil-Galad's nerves) a pair of dead children who haunted their mother. It was, however, a Mannish folk song that Gil-Galad had heard on occasion, so he tried his best not to worry about its implications.

Maglor played many songs, and sang, and Elros and Elrond sang as well, mostly unobjectionable hymns to Varda and songs of the Edain, for any song based on real events would be a touchy subject for one reason or another. There were sung also songs of Imladris and its delights, and of the Fair Folk themselves.

Gil-Galad tired after a few hours, though the music urged him to stay. Maedhros noticed, and offered to bring him back to his rooms. Gil-Galad accepted, though no longer felt he weary, so great was his apprehension.

The Fairy King began to lead him towards the family wing, but paused. Hesitatingly, he drew the golden ribbons from thin air and held them out to Gil-Galad. "Would you?" he asked, knowing the rest of the question needed no words to be spoken.

Nothing offered thrice could be refused.

"Please do."

A smile broke across the face of Maedhros, brighter than sunlight, and he steered Gil-Galad, who felt himself to be almost in a trance, into a drawing room, and nudged him into sitting down.

(At least, he thought distantly, he would not have his hair cut. Such a thing was nigh unthinkable, an act that Morgoth subjected his prisoners to.

But now that it had occurred to him -- it would not be much of a surprise if the Sons of Fëanor had cut the hair of Elrond and Elros to break them.)

Maedhros hummed softly as he unbound Gil-Galad's hair, a familiar melody he could place no name to, and began to comb out his tresses. Gil-Galad wanted to weep, it was so gentle. This might be easier on him, truly, if it were less tender, less affectionate; if he could pretend he had not agreed to it.

He lost himself in the steady rhythm of the comb's movement, trying to hold back tears in his last moments of free will, as Maedhros finished his untangling and began to braid. Gil-Galad felt the enchantment upon him, binding him to Maedhros with every inch of golden ribbon woven in.

Maedhros spoke as he worked, about how much Gil-Galad looked like the late High King Fingon with these ribbons in his hair, and how glad he was that Gil-Galad had come, and what Gil-Galad's father would think, and cold dread filled Gil-Galad's heart.

(Of course! Of course Maedhros had enchanted the High King and led him to his doom; everything made perfect sense!

If only someone else -- anyone else -- could have been the heir to the throne. If only someone else had survived, or Idril had chosen to press her claim, or someone other than Orodreth had adopted him.)

When Maedhros tied off the last ribbon, Gil-Galad felt the binding fall perfectly into place, and its magic poured into his soul.

My son, said Maedhros, directly into his mind, and kissed his head.

Gil-Galad let a single tear fall.

Chapter 14: Rosebuds Soft and Sweet

Chapter Text

Gil-Galad woke the next morning from the best sleep he could remember having to a bird pecking him. He opened his eyes to see a starling with shining wings and blue plumage that, upon seeing that he was awake, nuzzled him with its head and flew out the open window, from which drifted the scent of many flowers that had not been blooming the night before.

He stretched, and brushed a hand over his braided hair, and the knowledge of his loss of freedom struck him again and for a moment he could not breathe. But the feeling eased, and he felt still the warmth of the fae spells within his heart, and he stood to face his new life.

His belongings had not been removed from his room, not even his circlet, but he knew he no longer had the right to wear it. He could no longer be High King, so he left the circlet where it lay and instead dressed himself from the wardrobe in a fashion befitting his new circ*mstance.

No knock came upon the door, but the sun was up enough that he surmised he ought to attend breakfast, and he made his way to the little courtyard where he had eaten on his previous visits, where the Fairy Kings awaited him.

Maglor pushed a cup of tea towards him and gestured for him to sit by Maedhros, saying, "Good morrow! Slept you well?"

"I did indeed," said Gil-Galad, taking the tea and the seat. "Where are Elrond and Elros? I had expected to see them." Seeing all five chairs at the table, he quashed the hope that they might have been released.

"Sleeping in," said Maedhros. "I doubt not that they shall join us soon; there are cranberry scones, which they would not miss the chance to eat."

Maglor grumbled, "Sometimes I think my brother's cooking is the only thing that will wake them at a reasonable hour after late nights. They do make a striking effort to be nocturnal at times."

"Oh, I have noticed," said Gil-Galad, relaxed despite himself. "When he was in Lindon, Elros would be out at all hours and sleep in till nearly noon. He said that the first Men may have woken with the sunrise, but he had no intention of continuing that tradition."

"I cannot count how many times I have heard that," said Maedhros. "Elrond used to do it, too, before he Chose. These days, he insists that since Elves were not made with the cycles of the Sun in mind, he should not have to abide by them."

From what he had learned of Elrond on his past visits, this was very much in character for him. "You know," he said, as conversationally as possible, "they are missed in Lindon. A great number of people would be happy to welcome them there."

(How foolish he had been, not to have the kings' guarantee that the twins would be freed after he was bound, but perhaps that could be fixed now.)

To his surprise, Maglor nodded along. "I think that would be good for them, to go there. As long as they are safe, I see no reason why not."

Could it really be so simple? Gil-Galad felt almost ready to weep with relief.

"Ah! And here they are," said Maedhros, directing his gaze to the courtyard entrance. And true enough, Elros and Elrond came in, Elros covering a yawn.

"Good morning," said Elrond, dropping himself into the chair next to Gil-Galad and reaching for a scone, markedly less formal in his behavior than Gil-Galad had ever seen him be before.

"Good morning," said Gil-Galad. "We were beginning to despair at your ever coming."

"We need more sleep than elves do; you cannot begrudge us our health," said Elros, and by the fond exasperation written on Maglor's face, this was a familiar excuse.

"Your health would be improved by a regular sleeping schedule," said Maedhros, seemingly just as familiar a reply, for Elrond rolled his eyes.

Gil-Galad felt a warmth in his heart he could not define.

"Today is gardening day," said Elros, "since you all promised to help me. Gil-Galad, you should join us! Since everything bloomed overnight, we have our work cut out for us, and I would appreciate your assistance."

"I would love to."

Elros beamed and snatched a scone from the plate.

After breakfast, Elros led them to the garden, where every flower had opened its petals, and the sweet scent was near overwhelming.

"I will take care of the ones that bear fruit," he said, "because I trust none of you to do it. Gil-Galad, go help Atya take care of his bower over there." He continued giving out assignments, to Elrond and Maglor and the small group of fae who had come with, but Gil-Galad followed Maedhros to the bower, which was overgrown indeed, with cardamine and bower clematis and moss, and held a distinct air of melancholy.

"I have done little gardening since Nargothrond fell," said Gil-Galad in a murmur. "What am I to do?"

"Speak to them, and ask them to return to their homes, and tell the weeds to come up from the ground, pulling them if they will not. The weeds can go in the wheelbarrow," said Maedhros, pointing at a wheelbarrow that had not been there before.

Gil-Galad felt foolish, speaking to the plants when he had never had the skill of it, and not having the power of the Fair Folk to make them obey, but he tried. "Come on now, let us go back to your home, little flower." To his surprise, the flower listened, loosening itself from the soil that he might carry it to a more suitable place.

He repeated this with the rest of the cardamine flowers, coaxed the wood sorrel back into its place, and pulled up whatever weeds he could, and all the while Maedhros did the same with the lemon geraniums.

(Perhaps this gift was one from Maedhros to his now-son.)

"The moss is a lost cause," said Maedhros, "so we must pull it up and move it to the ground."

Gil-Galad nodded and helped him pick up the mosses, but in setting them down saw a pair of engraved stones set into the earth that Maedhros covered up.

(He privately resolved to come back and look at them later.)

He and Maedhros convinced the vines of the bower clematis to weave back together into the roof of the little bower and sat in its shade to rest. Wilwarindë came by offering them each a cup of water, which Gil-Galad accepted gratefully.

The rest of the day passed in an agreeable fashion, and Gil-Galad once again surprised himself by feeling content and at home. Truly, the enchantment was marvelous, and if Elrond and Elros experienced the same spell, it was little wonder they chose to remain in Faerie.

That night, Gil-Galad snuck out to the garden.

(He suspected that the sneaking was unnecessary, since the Fairy King was now his father and would surely allow him to walk abroad at any hour.)

He came to the bower and knelt down, encouraging the moss before the bench to move. Though Maedhros was not with him, it obeyed, allowing him to lift it away from the stones.

He brushed dirt from the etchings illuminated by the full moon, and read them, his eyes widening with every word.

The first stone read:

Findekáno Astaldo Nolofinwion
The Valiant
High King of the Noldor
YT 1268 - FA 472

A grave for High King Fingon? He would never have thought Maedhros to be so attached to someone he had enchanted for his own ends, someone whose death he had caused, but then again, he seemed fond indeed of Elros and Elrond.

It was the second stone that froze his blood.

Artanáro Cantëafinwë Findekánion
Scion of Kings
Crown Prince of the Noldor
FA 455-495

Fingon had a son? Gil-Galad had never known of it, though they had lived at the same time, and -- "Scion of Kings." That was Gil-Galad's own name, Ereinion, which Orodreth had called him, and Círdan had as well, and no one else had ever been named or called, to his knowledge. He did not remember anything from before Orodreth had taken him in, but the birth year seemed correct, too, and he traced over the name with his fingertips in shock.

Was he the son of Fingon? Why had Orodreth never told him, given him a new name instead of those written on this stone?

Because they were written on this stone, perhaps. If any fae knew his names, he could be easily enthralled, and if he was thought to be dead then Maedhros would not look for the child of the High King he had bent to his will. How foolish, then, to walk directly into his realm and give himself over!

(He wondered at the name "Cantëafinwë." He was of the fourth generation from Finwë himself, if Fingon was his father, but it seemed a strange choice.)

He snuck back into the palace, mind awhirl.

Chapter 15: My Father is a High King

Chapter Text

"Did you know?" said Gil-Galad out of the blue.

Elrond blinked and reached for a jam cookie. "Did I know what?"

It was three months since Gil-Galad had been bound to Faerie, and he could no longer resist his curiosity, so while Elros was busy with his Mannish friends he took Elrond up to the floating pavilion for tea, for which Maedhros had happily given them food, accompanied by a kiss on the head.

"Did you know," he repeated, "that Fingon was my father?"

Elrond frowned. "Since you first came here, of course. You never would have been permitted to cross the final barrier otherwise; we were all set to refuse you entry before the spell told us who you were." He paused. "I was very much under the impression that you knew about that. Were you not?" There was a note of something almost like fear in his voice.

"Not at all! I was taken in by Orodreth as a child, after the Dagor Nirnaeth Arnoediad, and I remember nothing of my life before it."

Elrond's hands shook as he set down his teacup, the clink of it meeting the saucer somehow louder than the ringing of the bells in the valley below, and he took a deep breath, looking into Gil-Galad's eyes. "I am so sorry. I -- we all thought you knew, but that is no excuse. Of course Fingon is your father." He reached a hand out to clasp Gil-Galad's. "You are not trapped here, you know. You are permitted to leave if you will, and I think you ought to, for a time."

He had not known that. "Why think you so?"

"I think you need distance, and the counsel of Lord Círdan," said Elrond. "Elros and I shall come and visit you in Lindon, and we will explain everything there. Not here. But -- do not speak of this in front of Atya or Atto. It would break Atya's heart to find out that you knew not your father's name."

"I will say nothing," Gil-Galad promised. "When should I depart?"

"Soon, I should think. In a few days, perhaps? Atya will miss you, but he would never want you to leave your people leaderless; no one shall stop you leaving."

Gil-Galad nodded, hardly knowing what to make of this, not his freedom to go nor the here-public knowledge of his parentage. "I will do as you counsel, then. Thank you."

"Of course, brother." Elrond gave a weak smile. "We will speak further in Lindon, when I convince Atto that it will be safe for us leaving home. He worries so."

Gil-Galad laughed. "Oh, I have noticed! How could I fail to?" Maglor fussed over his sons even more than Maedhros did, and was loath to let them go anywhere alone.

They finished their tea, and the cookies and sandwiches Maedhros had given them, in a more cheerful mood, but unease hung over Elrond still.

Gil-Galad left two days later, with food for the journey provided by his father and a last forehead kiss before sending him off. Elros and Elrond hugged him and promised to visit, and Maglor embraced him too, calling him "nephew" and telling him to stay safe.

He had not expected, in truth, to be able to leave, no matter what Elrond had said, but he was sent on his way with great fanfare, all the Court gathered to see him off.

"Since you declined an escort, we have arranged for someone to meet you outside the furthest boundary," said Maglor. "It may be safer now, but you should not go alone."

Gil-Galad thanked him and took his leave, wondering who might await him, and how long he had been gone. The bells rang as they had upon his first arrival, and as he reached the ring of mushrooms, he looked back once more at the valley of Imladris. His home, just as much as Lindon was.

He crossed the ring, expecting his memories to distort as they had before, but they remained as clear as ever, for he was now of the Fairy Court of Imladris.

He walked down the path, more aware of this strange in-between place than he ever had been, hearing the singing of the birds and the rushing of the rivers, and crossed the boundary stone with only the slightest hesitation.

And there he saw Círdan.

It had been seven months since Gil-Galad had gone to Faerie, and Círdan worried. He asked Lady Inzilarî to talk to him, if she might, and ask him to return, but some time later he felt restless suddenly, as if something called him to the east the way the sea always pulled him west. He followed the call inland, and found his journey easier than any he had ever taken by land (for the sea-ways were always pleasant and their conditions fair, having Ulmo's favor).

He knew that the path he took must lead him to Faerie, and some helpful force must aid him, as this remarkable uneventfulness could not be other than unnatural, but he chose to trust that he would find Gil-Galad.

He came to a standing stone, and all of a sudden the pull stopped. Apparently he was to wait. Círdan leaned his back up against the stone and settled in.

Not four hours later, he heard a sound, and he turned. From the other side of the stone came Gil-Galad, in strange garments and wearing unfamiliar beads in his hair.

Círdan pulled him into a hug, weeping with relief.

After some time, he let go and stepped back. "Gil-Galad," he said, eyes still full of tears. "You are alive! I was so worried; you have been gone for over half a year!"

Gil-Galad blinked. "It has only been three months for me, though eventful ones they were. I am unharmed."

"But not unchanged."

"No, not unchanged."

Círdan nodded. "As I can see in your hair."

Gil-Galad reached up to touch the beads, as if he had forgotten their presence, or their oddness. "I will tell you all, as we return, but you must not speak of it to anyone, at least not yet. Elros and Elrond shall be coming to Lindon to visit soon, and they wish to have some conference outside the confines of Imladris."

"That, at least, is joyful news! Have the Sons of Fëanor seen fit to release them?"

"No, but they have given them leave to come and see me even when I am not in Faerie." He took a deep breath, and said with false cheer, "It would be cruel, after all, to keep them from their brother."

Círdan's thoughts ground to a halt. "Their brother?"

"Yes. I was -- well, Maedhros offered to adopt me. Thrice. I could not refuse, and I thought it might give Elrond and Elros their freedom. It was only after that I found the reason he offered it."

Círdan could not believe his ears.

"What could it be, save the desire for another enthralled son, as he terms both them and you?"

"An attachment to my birth father, who was, as I discovered, High King Fingon. Everyone knows Maedhros enchanted him, and I suppose he wished to keep me too, though I was safe from him for many years in my ignorance."

"Ai, this is ill news! Shall you be obliged to return for one season in four, as the Men tell in their stories? How shall you lead your people?"

"I know not. No limit of time was given me, but as a dutiful son, as I must now be, I will obey my father's summons should he call for me."

Círdan hugged him again, and Gil-Galad clutched him as if he were the only thing anchoring him to the real world and keeping him from Faerie.

"Now then," Círdan said, "I think you may wish to cover those braids of yours. I have a scarf that could work." He rummaged through his pockets.

"No need. Elros must have seen this coming; he gave me one." Gil-Galad was less used to covering his hair, and it looked not nearly so elegant as when his brother did it, but it would serve. "Let us onwards. It would not do to be unprepared for the visit of Elrond and Elros, not when Faerie has been so welcoming and they have been such good hosts."

The journey back was nearly as easy as the journey forward, and Círdan thanked whatever power made it so, for Gil-Galad burst into tears upon seeing his city again.

Chapter 16: Faster Than the Wind

Chapter Text

Gil-Galad was happy enough in Lindon, by the sea and surrounded by those he knew and trusted. It was a change from Imladris, but not an unpleasant one.

(His heart did not ache for the embrace of his father, nor the company of his brothers, he told himself.)

But one day, he felt some strange happiness growing in his soul, and wondered what it might mean.

The day started easily enough, and he went to hold court in the hall, and there upon his throne he sat when a sudden gust of wind blew open the doors and in came a pair of starlings with shining wings. Gil-Galad's heart leapt, and he knew not why.

But the reason became clear soon enough, for the birds swooped down to land, and as they descended they changed form from one moment to the next, becoming a familiar pair of twins wearing feather-patterned cloaks that reached just past their fingertips.

They stood before him as the court looked on, in a surreal reversal of his first visit to Imladris, and bowed.

"Greetings, High King Gil-Galad," said Elros. "We have come as representatives of the Fairy Kings."

"They have decided to end the isolation of our realm, and sent us as emissaries to speak for them and the Court of Imladris," said Elrond.

Gil-Galad almost could not speak for shock, but he found his voice. "It is an honor to have you here, cousins. Be welcome in Lindon."

His brothers beamed.

The court session had been definitively ended by their arrival, everyone splitting into groups to gossip over what this could mean, so he took them to a place to stay, near to his own rooms.

"It is good to see you," said Elrond, the moment they were no longer in public, catching him in a hug. "We came as quickly as we could."

"I saw! And in such a strange way, too! You made quite an entrance."

"Perhaps we have inherited just a little of the family propensity for drama," Elros allowed. "But we came to speak with you for a reason, and our conference must not be overheard."

"And there is no better time than when everyone is too busy gossiping to spy," said Elrond.

Gil-Galad took them to his own drawing room, feeling more and more as if this were some bizarre mirror of his time in Imladris, and had them sit.

"Do you need anything to eat? Nothing will match Atya's cooking, but…" He surprised himself with how easily the familial term rolled off his tongue.

"Not to worry!" said Elros, pulling a bag from beneath the cloak and opening it to reveal a mouthwatering array of food. "Atya sent extra for you, and told us to make sure you were eating well. Have a jam cookie, I know you like them."

Gil-Galad obeyed, taking comfort in the familiar taste, still just as deliciously unearthly as it had been in Faerie.

"Let us begin with lighter topics," Elros suggested. "Elrond, tell us about your plans for the Isle of Gift."

Elrond pulled out a sheaf of papers. "Get the food out of the way, then, and I shall. See here, I have layouts for the outlying cities finished, since the capital is nearly done, and thoughts on distinct styles for the buildings of each one. It would hardly do for them to be uniform."

The plans were lovely, and not for the first time did Gil-Galad wish that Elrond could have helped to design Lindon. Mithlond was turning out to be pretty enough, but having Forlindon and Harlindon, two halves of what was nearly the same city, separated by both water and a cultural divide left much to be desired. But Elrond had, as it turned out, brought a few helpful suggestions for Lindon as it continued its development. The "few" turned out to be an extended set of notes and blueprints, and Gil-Galad thanked him for them.

"Now to our business," said Elrond, setting down his tea. He took a deep breath. "Our fathers are not fae. We are."

Gil-Galad's mind refused to process this. "My apologies. What?"

"It is the two of us who made Imladris the way it is, and Amon Ereb too, for that matter., though we had help for Imladris," said Elrond. "I am so sorry we lied to you."

"Here is the full story," said Elros, "since my brother seems inclined to start in the middle. Have you met any of the Maiar of Middle-Earth?"

"I have not."

"They are the ones who began the stories that Men tell of the Fair Folk," said Elros, "We are descended from Melian, and we inherited some of her... nature, shall we say. And, interestingly enough, it turns out that that nature is something that can be shared through bonds of the fëa."

"People were already telling the stories by the time we decided to hide Amon Ereb with our power," said Elrond. "And it was not only the ability we inherited, but the instinct, too. That is why we pulled you back after you ate the food on your second visit, not only because we missed you but because it is what is done. And the tales Men tell... they have power. You thought we would cause you to return, and so we could."

"Have you then placed your fathers under enchantment? Is that the reason they behave as they do?" Gil-Galad asked. He could think of no other cause for the Sons of Fëanor to so warmly treat their prisoners.

"What? Goodness, no!" said Elros.

"They were always good to us," said Elrond, "and our heritage did not begin to manifest until we were nearly ten. They supported us, though we were strange fairy children and they did not understand. But when we allowed them to adopt us properly, they found that they changed, too."

Gil-Galad could do nothing but sit and listen to what they told him, his shock and wonder growing with every word.

Elros said, "After a point, it seemed like a good way to remain safe, feeding the rumors, and every time we convinced someone to stay it strengthened us. The rules Men talk about are not binding, but they are... encouraging. But now the story turns to you."

"You are the son of Fingon and his husband Maedhros," said Elrond. "Atya thought you were dead since the Nirnaeth, or he would have come to you, please believe that. But you were not, and when you came to Imladris he was overjoyed. He wants nothing more than to be your father and to make you happy in whatever way he can."

"And I am sorry we lied to you, but please understand! If the rumors falter, our people, our fathers, they will be harmed. We did not know if we could trust you at first, and could not risk their safety, or Atya getting his hopes up and you rejecting him, and we could hardly speak the truth in front of my friends, though my Inzilarî knows more of our situation."

"I understand," Gil-Galad reassured. He did not, not yet, but it seemed to comfort Elros.

"Mistake us not, we are more than happy to have you as our brother," said Elrond. "But we really did think you knew already. It did not occur to me that you would have let Atya reform the fëa bond if you did not know, if you had not repaired your relationship. Can you forgive us?"

Gil-Galad stood to go over and hug them, an embrace they returned enthusiastically. "Of course I can. I could never be upset with you; you are my brothers."

"And can you forgive Atya? He does not know; it would crush him to be told that you did not know him, but we will tell him if you wish," said Elros.

Gil-Galad paused. "I do not know what to think," he said at last, "but do not tell him. I can forgive the mistake, even if I cannot forgive all else he has done."

"You do not have to. No one would ask it of you, least of all him," said Elrond.

They embraced for a while more, then separated.

"So how did you come to create Imladris?" asked Gil-Galad, returning to his seat to eat more of what Maedhros had sent.

Elrond laughed. "Oh, now that is a story! Well, you see..."

Chapter 17: Gloomy was the Night (2)

Chapter Text

Elrond snuck through the town, secure in his plan. Elros would give him an alibi tomorrow morning, if anyone bothered to suspect him at all, and at present everyone within the hastily constructed walls of what would one day be Lindon was asleep. The magic came easily to him, especially on a night like this, the moon veiled and the wind soft, and the ever-coming sea roaring in the distance as it took Beleriand.

His aim was simple: to take the Silmarils from the place in which they were guarded and bring them to his fathers, who would not be obliged to commit any more kinslaying, thereby ending the entire messy affair of the accursed gems.

(And the future he had seen, with one father dead and another missing, would not come to pass.)

He moved quietly and came to the shed where the Silmarils were kept, its guards, too, sleeping. Neither he nor Elros could cause Maiar to sleep, not without the effort being perceived, but they could veil their activity from the senses of most, even Eönwë.

He went inside and whispered to the locked chest, which opened for him, and he placed the Silmarils into a bag that Elros had made and embroidered with runes of power for this purpose, blocking out the light.

But when Elrond left the little shed, his theft unnoticed, he saw two figures coming towards him.

Two familiar figures.

"Atya! Atto!" he hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"We are trying to steal the Silmarils!" said Maglor in a whisper. "Why is everyone asleep?"

"Because I am stealing the Silmarils! I planned to bring them to you!"

"Why would you do such a thing? Where is Elros?" said Maedhros.

"In his room, covering for me! I am trying to make sure everyone gets out of this alive, but I cannot put everyone to sleep, you know! Someone will notice you!"

And indeed, a sound came from another part of the town. Someone must be awake.

Elrond cursed quietly.

"Language!" Maglor and Maedhros both admonished.

An idea struck him. Elrond pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and pressed it into Maglor's palm, concentrating, and words spread across the paper in Maglor's own handwriting.

"What are you doing?"

"Making it look like you are the ones who stole the Silmarils. Give me but a moment," said Elrond, ducking back into the shed. In the chest where the Silmarils had lain he placed the note.

People began to wake up. They would notice, soon, the three people sneaking about. Elrond made a split-second decision.

"Come on," he whispered. "We need to go east!" And then, grabbing the hands of his fathers, he ran.

Elros woke up to Elrond repeatedly calling out to him through ósanwë.

Elros! Elros, wake up! There has been a change of plans!

I have woken, he said. How big a change?

Elrond sent him an image of the Blue Mountains, Maedhros and Maglor by his side. We were forced to run. I doubt anyone knows of my involvement; maintain that I was kidnapped a second time or some such.

A knock came at the door.

We are going east, to the place you saw in your visions. Atto is leaving a trail for our people to follow, and they need to get out tonight, at least the elves. Make them disappear.

You ask much of me, said Elros. Could you really not have taken me with you?

Elrond's reply was tinged with amusem*nt. As if you ever refused a challenge!

Elros opened the door, where Gil-Galad waited. "Can I help you, cousin?"

Over a few weeks of travel, Elrond had picked up a number of Maiar. He had not asked them to join his journey, but they chose to accompany him anyhow, and they said they would stay when he reached his destination.

"I cannot say why," said a Maia with butterfly wings called Wilwarindë, when asked, "but it seems to me, and to others, that we ought to, and that the place you make for is a place we should be. And I am not the only one of the spirits of Middle-Earth who wishes to learn of life the way the Children of Eru know it, and I think if I go with you then I shall."

"You shall indeed," said Maglor, "for our people are not so far behind us, and you will meet them soon enough. But I think not that that is your only reason."

"It is not," she agreed. "You see, we who have accompanied you are ones without any Court or leader, and we seek belonging, we who follow not Tinfang nor Tethil nor any other. Perhaps with you we may find it."

"To follow us would not be wise," said Maedhros.

"Oh, I think not so. This little Maia trusts you, does he not?" she said, gesturing with her wing at Elrond. "Many would be pleased to follow him, and he has many times laid his life in your hands, and you have kept him safe."

"You would name him Maia?" said Maglor curiously.

"Or near enough to it, yes," said Wilwarindë. "If the tales are to be believed, then his uncle Daeron has joined the Court of Tinfang and found welcome there." She paused. "You might well have the beginnings of a Court here, you know, even if it would be a very different kind. Less secret and more tangible."

It is a known thing that many Maiar take to a specific place in the world, be it a meadow or a mountain, and make it their home and become a part of it, whether because it is something they found and liked or something they created and loved when Arda was being crafted.

Elrond crested a hill and his breath caught. He stood frozen for a moment in time and then ran singing down the other side with joyful abandon, sure of his footing, knowing every root and every rock, and the river rose to meet him as he ran across its surface and fell onto the grass, beaming up at the sky.

The Maia of Imladris had come home.

"First things first," said Maedhros. "We need to protect this place, and we need shelter."

"I think Elrond has that taken care of," said Maglor, pointing.

And true enough, Elrond was sitting beneath a tree, staring into the middle distance, while all around him branches and vines grew into structures. None of them looked to be permanent, but they would serve for the time being, until construction was possible.

"Far be it from me to suggest a ward of protective magicks," said Erestor, "given how very overboard two sides of his family have gone with that, but it may be our best defense for now."

Elrond stood up. "I can do that! I will protect this place, and no one shall ever find it, nor enter it without permission, and--" he fell down.

"Perhaps when he adjusts to his newfound role," said Maedhros, "and learns not to exhaust himself."

Elros was warmly welcomed to his new home by his family, who demanded all the news from him, and his people, who had changed greatly as a result of living among Maiar.

"We found," Elrond announced proudly, "that Maiarin abilities can be shared with others! It requires some kind of bond, but it seems that connection to our House -- to the Court, now, I suppose -- suffices."

"Leave it to you to somehow become a ruler of fae by chance when I must campaign tirelessly to gain the crown I desire," said Elros.

Elrond sniffed. "I am not ruling. That is Atya and Atto's job. I am building things."

"And it is only their job because you are so inherently trustworthy, it appears. Would that my own people were so easily pleased!"

"Would you like to see the garden?"

Elros allowed himself to be distracted. "You made me a garden? I would like nothing more!"

Elrond grinned. "Not just a garden. I built you a greenhouse, too, and there's space for an orchard. I know you brought seeds with you."

"Thank you." Elros hugged his twin. "Now, when will we be ready for guests? I would love to invite my friends, and my dear Inzilarî as well."

Chapter 18: Louder, Louder Rang the Bells (2)

Chapter Text

Elros's head snapped up from the book in his hands, startling Maglor, who was braiding his hair.

"There are people trying to cross the border," he announced. "A few of them mean no harm, so it shall let them through, but -- oh!"

"Oh indeed," said Elrond. "Is that Gil-Galad? He must be very determined to take us back, if he has come in person."

"I must say, 'tis surprising that he intends no harm," said Maglor, and Maedhros nodded in agreement.

Maedhros said, "But he cannot pass the third boundary, since he is neither immediate family nor one of our people, and we have no reason to make an exception for him. He shall have to go home empty-handed."

Half an hour later, Elrond said, "He has crossed the second boundary, with one other person."

"He feels unsafe without iron," said Elros. "Not that iron would hurt anyone here unless it was enchanted to do so, but he knows nothing of the matter."

They settled back in. Maglor put Elros's hair covering in place and hugged him, while Elrond snuggled up to Maedhros, each of them reading a book.

Then, as one, they gave a start.

"The barrier -- the spell-- it cannot be!" said Elros.

Elrond looked at Maedhros in wonder. "He is our brother?"

"Impossible," Maedhros breathed. "Artanáro is dead, he has been dead! Did Orodreth -- no, it matters not. We must welcome him."

Maglor rushed to open the door. "Erestor!" he called. "Summon the Court, we are to have a guest! Wilwarindë, go and fetch him, and slow him down!"

"We need a guest room. I will rearrange the hallways to put him nearby to us," said Elrond. "Elros, do up the great hall."

"I suppose we are throwing a feast tonight," said Maedhros. "Everyone be in the hall as soon as you may, and please do be presentable."

"It was only the once that I came to an event fresh from the garden! Why must you bring it up every time!" cried Elros.

"I mentioned no names, starling."

"And ring the bells!" said Maglor. "A long-lost kinsman has come home at last; this is cause for celebration!"

Maedhros felt his heart race as he waited in the Great Hall for his son, forcing himself to hold still rather than run down the halls to embrace him.

Everyone and everything had been made presentable as quickly as possible, and Elrond said that the rooms for Gil-Galad were ready, just down the hall from the twins. Elros and Elrond sat in their thrones, fidgeting with excitement, and Maglor played his harp (made of bone that Wilwarindë had conjured, citing tradition) to distract himself.

"Do not forget," said Maedhros to the Court, "he is to be given the highest honor, and everything he wishes for. He is welcome here."

The doors opened, and Gil-Galad entered.

Maedhros could not help but stare, and knew his attention went not unmarked.

Gil-Galad took in the room for a few moments and bowed. “Your majesties. Thank you for allowing me entry to your land."

Maedhros stood, but managed to keep himself from an unseemly display of emotion such as immediately rushing down the steps of the dais. “Be welcome in Imladris, High King Gil-Galad,” he said, even though it was nothing compared to that which he wished to say. “It is an honor to have you here as our guest.” Formality was a curse, why could he not say at this very moment how much he loved his son, how glad he was to see him alive?

He kept his eyes trained on Gil-Galad, cataloging every detail of him and committing it to memory, knowing he could never have enough time with him, that Gil-Galad (quite reasonably) did not like him and would not accept him as his father and would leave at the soonest opportunity.

The musicians struck up a celebratory tune, and the Court began dancing, elves and Maiar alike (though the line had blurred somewhat, with the sharing of powers, all were fae these days whether in nature or only appearance).

Luckily Maglor saw his inability to speak or move, choked with emotion, and beckoned Gil-Galad over.

"Now, I assure you that my brother and I shall not be too busy to be courteous hosts," he said, "but since you hardly came to see us, the twins will take care of you for the most part. I trust you have no objection?"

That was a good choice. Gil-Galad would be pleased to spend time with them, and after all they were his brothers, and Maedhros wanted nothing more than for his children to get along well together.

"None at all," said Gil-Galad.

"Wonderful!" said Maglor. He gave the twins each a forehead kiss, and Maedhros did the equivalent through ósanwë. "Be good hosts, little stars."

Elros and Elrond linked arms with their brother and led him down the hall, and as soon as they were out of sight, Maedhros hurried to the kitchens.

What could he make? He only had a few hours, even if the power to make things go quicker could be lent to him, and he knew nothing of Gil-Galad's preferences, and this meal must be the very best of his ability and the magic of Faerie; he would be ashamed of serving anything else, even if his son were too afraid of enchantment to eat it.

Luckily, Elros remembered some of what Gil-Galad liked from his time living in close proximity, and Maedhros could start his work.

Dinner was a success, Maedhros watching Gil-Galad out of the corner of his eye and seeing (aside from a strange look after drinking the tea) only enjoyment. Victory thrilled through his veins, more meaningful than it had ever been in battle.

Then the music and dancing began, and he applauded (after a fashion, lacking the full complement of hands) his little stars for their performance, proud of how well they had learned all their dances, how elegant they had grown since those days of energetic stumbling around to music in their childhood, in the fortress where they had grown up.

(It was good that they had a better home, here where they were safe and wanted for nothing, here where they could be princes and not warriors. He had always felt guilty for not being able to give them the life they deserved, but that was one of his few regrets that could be mended now.)

And seeing Elrond and Elros tug Gil-Galad into dancing with them -- he felt complete. He had worried, of course, that they would not get along well with their respective unexpected siblings, and reassured the twins that he would still have time for them and love them no less, but it seemed his worries had been unfounded.

Before he knew it, the hour grew late, and he and Maglor pulled Elros and Elrond from the dance to go to sleep despite their protestations.

Maedhros went to bed, too, but slept not at all. After an hour, he went into the gardens to his bower, where there lay two memorial stones: one for his husband, and one for his son.

The flowers growing here spoke of love and of sorrow, of how he had failed his child, and the stones had for decades received his tears more often than rain, but tonight he did not weep.

He traced over the name of his son. He would never have named him Cantëafinwë by choice (few would), and it was understandable on multiple levels that he would not call himself by it. The name that Artanáro now bore was not recorded here, but he publicly called himself Ereinion still; he had not forsaken all the names his birth fathers had given him.

(How delighted they had been to name him Ereinion, when he had come to them and told them he was a nér! Just like his father before him. Maedhros was glad that he had chosen to keep that name.)

Before dawn, Maedhros returned to the kitchen. He had pastry to make.

Gil-Galad did not trust the food that Maedhros made for him. Maedhros had managed to cajole him into eating one breakfast, but after that Gil-Galad relied on Elros's orchards. While unpleasant, Maedhros knew that this could serve as some kind of metric of trust -- if his son shared a meal with him again, then he must be making progress.

He would do anything to win back the love and trust of his Artanáro, however little he deserved those things. Any relationship he managed to rebuild would be a victory.

And yet... Gil-Galad deserved to have something of Fingon, did he not? Some reminder of his less controversial father.

Maedhros went to a locked chest in his room and found what he sought: a set of golden hair ribbons that had once belonged to his husband.

(And oh, he was lying to himself. He could never be satisfied with only a cease in hostilities, nor with grudging indifference; if Gil-Galad accepted the ribbons he would simply have to accept his father's love along with them.)

Gil-Galad had refused.

Of course he had, why would he want anything from the hand of Maedhros? But it still stung, and he was making plans to leave.

A month was not long enough to spend in his company, but if Gil-Galad wished to see his brothers again before Elros left for the Isle of Gift, he would simply have to return. Maedhros clung to this.

At least Gil-Galad would go home with one reminder of Fingon: a finely wrought dagger, slipped into his belongings by Elrond when no one was looking.

Chapter 19: She Showed No Fear (2)

Chapter Text

Elros clutched a letter to his chest. "She will visit! Finally! Oh, Atya, Atto, you must let her come and see us!"

"Your lady?" said Maglor.

Elros nodded.

"I see no reason why not, then. We shall have to ascertain her suitability as a spouse anyhow, so this is quite convenient."

"Please do not threaten her!"

Maedhros patted him on the shoulder. "We will only talk to her, and perhaps give her a quest, if she is serious."

"It will not be a difficult quest," Maglor reassured. "We merely have a reputation to uphold. What kind of Fairy Kings would we be if we gave up that which is dearest to us without a word?"

"He makes a point," said Elrond, receiving a glare from his twin.

"If you must, then," said Elros, "but nothing too difficult, and I do not want any of you scaring her off before she has the chance to perform some (completely staged) heroic rescue of me."

Maglor gave a dramatic sigh. "I let you listen to far too many Mannish ballads as a child. It seems to have given you ideas."

"Surely none of these ideas could possibly have come from his own family history," said Maedhros.

"This is the sort of thing that ballads will be written about," said Elros. "You wait and see. She has already killed a dragon, to begin with."

Maglor gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I will write them, if no one else is up to the challenge, but even Inzilarî Dragonslayer must face the parents of her beloved. Now, would you like to play host to your friends? They will trust you more than they will us."

"I think that would be wise. But Atya, you will still cook for them, will you not?"

"Of course I will, dear one," said Maedhros. "Anything you wish."

Inzilarî walked with a bounce in her step. She had heard tales of Faerie; how could she have not? But the tales could never have done it justice, for they spoke little of the one she loved, her dear Elroth, who brightened the valley with his presence.

The air here was sweet, and the birds sang to her, as they always did when her love was near, and she neared the final boundary he had told her of. It would not keep her out, he had written, and he would greet her there.

She stepped through first, to show her companions that it was safe, and entered into the realm of delight, for so it was called, and so she found it to be -- for her love stood before her, radiant as the rising of the sun, and smiling just for her.

He welcomed them, and she bowed politely, taking his offered arm when he led them down the path into the valley.

"My dear," he murmured to her, "my Loþetári! How I have missed you since I saw you last, in the twilight by the sea-shore! Have you come at last to take me from my fathers' house?"

"Not yet, my love," she said with a smile. How she loved hearing her name from his lips, in every language! "For I know you, and I know you would wish me to ask first. But if you insist on being rescued, I shall do my best."

"You do know me, and far too well, it seems! How go things in the outside world?"

"Quite well, I should say. Every year the weather grows fairer, less cruel than the biting winters of the Enemy, and the waters run cleaner," she said, and squeezed his hand. "It will be perfect for growing things, when we go to the Isle of Gift."

"I can imagine it now," he said. "You and I, in our garden of hibiscus and flowering quince, under the golden sun -- you shall be Queen in truth then, and not only in your naming, but I shall remember you always as you were in your crown of flowers, the day that Thangorodrim was broken, and to me 'twas fairer than anything wrought of gold or silver."

She flicked him on the shoulder. "How silver-tongued you are, little bird! As I remember it, half those flowers were the near-dead ashen little things that grew in Anfauglith, and the other half were the ones that grew around you while you stared at me."

"How could I help it? Ever have you been a vision of loveliness, and I thought my heart might burst to see you so, with pride and defiance in your eyes as you looked north, the fires raging behind you. Can you name any sight more worth the seeing?"

An easy question. "Of course I can! Have you never seen your own reflection?"

She took great pride in making him stammer, seeing a bright red rose bloom suddenly by his face as they passed under an arbor.

"You -- you cannot just say things like that!"

"My dearest love, I think I can! How could I allow you to be the only one of us who speaks sweet words to make their lover blush?"

They came soon to the palace and disentangled their arms.

"Let me know if my fathers give you trouble," he murmured. "Or anyone else does, for that matter."

"I shall."

Maedhros sent the Men off with Elros and returned to his dinner preparations. He had chosen better tea this time, with an enchantment laid by Elros that would hopefully prevent anything like the stricken expression Gil-Galad had displayed on his last visit.

He hoped Maglor had managed a seating arrangement that would keep Elros and Loþetári seated together, but he would be happy as long as he could sit next to Gil-Galad.

Maedhros put it out of his mind, though, and focused on pouring all the love he could into the meal, as well as several tablespoons of the concentrated essence of welcome, once again grateful for the culinary innovations possible through Maiarin magic.

(Grateful, too, to have fruits and vegetables no matter their season, though he had not yet mastered the trick of it himself and had to resort to asking.)

Dinner went well, aside from the fact that Elrond had once again attempted to drink an enchanted substance that was not good for him, and Gil-Galad did not seem nearly so discomfited by what the vision from his tea had shown him. Maedhros, in his own vision, saw himself with grandchildren.

"We understand," said Maglor, "that you are in a... romantic entanglement with our son Elros."

"I am," said Inzilarî, seeming only mildly uncomfortable.

Maedhros gave her a scrutinizing look. "The two of you intend to move to the Isle of Gift together, when that is possible, correct? And you have been chosen to lead the Edain?" He carefully turned the tips of his hair to flame and allowed the change to carry up his floor-length braid.

"Yes to both." She seemed calm still, though her eyes widened at the flame.

"Tell us this, then: is this purely political in motivation?" said Maedhros.

"Of course not!" she cried. "I love him dearly, and have since we fought side-by-side in the war. It is only a lucky coincidence that it happens to be convenient as well."

"Hmm. Well, you two must be chaperoned if you wish to spend time together," said Maglor, "it is only proper." The Edain, he knew, had much more lenient rules governing the behavior of an unmarried couple, but as long as Elros and Inzilarî remained in Faerie they would adhere to the elven customs.

(And the elven customs, as practiced by royalty and especially as held by Fëanor, were manifold and strict.)

Inzilarî inclined her head. "I understand. There will be no improper behavior, I assure you."

"Good. As I am sure you know, the laws of hospitality do apply to guests as well. I would not recommend your breaking them," said Maedhros. "You may go. Enjoy the picnic."

Elrond and Elros wished that Gil-Galad could have chosen a better audience for this conversation. Did he not understand that some things ought to be private, or at least not spoken of outside the family?

"At the end of my last visit," said Gil-Galad, "he offered to me a set of golden hair ribbons, which I refused. What would have happened had I accepted?"

They glanced at each other. This would be difficult, if they were to keep the full truth secret from the Men and keep their brother from realizing that he could very easily break Maedhros's heart.

"You would not have been trapped, I do not think," said Elrond carefully, weighing every word, "or at least not by virtue of merely accepting them." Maedhros would not keep Gil-Galad against his will (well, probably not, since Elrond's own kidnapping had been under extenuating circ*mstances). "You would be obliged, though, to return if ever he should will it, and that is a certainty."

(That was less true, for Maedhros was not capable of such enchantment, but Elros and Elrond certainly were, and having their brother visit whenever they wished was a pleasing thought. Elrond sent the idea to Elros, who sent him the idea of a plan.)

Elros said, to caution Gil-Galad, "Know, though, that such a choice is weighty, and it is permanent. He will not grow bored -- my fathers would keep me forever if they could, and even when we were young we knew we would be permitted neither worldly escape nor death (though I shall have both in the end)." It was a roundabout way of saying we have always been safe, they would never allow harm to come to us, but it was not untrue.

Neither of them wished for Gil-Galad to accept, not knowing its meaning, and assume it temporary or only a minor thing. Maedhros would be devastated.

"And yet you would be content, as we are," said Elrond, hoping to be reassuring. "It is no trial to live here, nor something to be endured, but a joy. 'Twas only in the beginning that we were at all prisoners, and you never would be."

And that was true; Gil-Galad would know no fear here, nor unpleasantness. He would be happy from the start.

Hopefully they managed to get through to him. Would that he had chosen a better time!

Chapter 20: True Love Dares (2)

Chapter Text

Once again, Inzilarî came before the Fairy Kings, this time to make her suit.

"Your majesties," she said, bowing. "Thank you for granting me audience."

"Of course, it is our honor," said King Maedhros. "What business have you to discuss?"

She took a deep breath. "I would ask for the hand of your son, Prince Elros. I have spoken to him, and he finds the idea agreeable, but I know how much his approval means to you, and we would ask your blessing." Perhaps it was not strictly wise to imply that she did this not out of any sense of requirement, only to please her beloved, but she would be only truthful, and the truth was that she would marry him without their permission if necessary.

King Maedhros nodded. "Just as we thought. We have no objections as such, but only hesitations."

"We cannot in good conscience permit this marriage if his birth parents disapprove," said King Maglor. "You shall have to communicate with them in some way. If they give their blessing, I see no reason why we should not."

"And then--" King Maedhros gave a sigh, sounding rather defeated. "And then you shall have to rescue him in some melodramatic fashion to win him. He specified this as a condition."

"Nothing would make me happier."

"Complete this quest, then, and you shall have all that you desire," said King Maedhros, "your kingdom and your husband, and many blessings upon both."

"Our brother shall leave again," said Elros. "Do you think he might return, or shall we lose him for good?"

"There is a way to be sure," said Elrond.

Elros grinned. "I like the way you think."

"How long do you think it will take to pick all the fruit? We will have help, yes, but we must avoid him finding out we are doing it, and destroy his own food stores without being caught."

"And make sure Atya makes something that is absolutely irresistible," said Elros, "but he will do that as a matter of course. I shall go fetch my friends and some of our people tomorrow and have them join me in this little harvest."

"Then I shall go and steal his rations today. He will eat Atya's cooking, and then he will have to come back whenever we choose."

Maedhros cooked and cooked. He would find something to give to his son that would be accepted, some way to show him how loved he was.

He tried everything that Gil-Galad had liked as a child, every comfort food he might have grown up with in Nargothrond, and all the foods that could not be made in Beleriand for lack of resources.

None were eaten.

In desperation, he begged his younger sons for anything they might have noticed, any dish or even ingredient that Gil-Galad might prefer over others, and Elros thought back to his years of occasional shared meals with him and concluded that he had a fondness for elderberries.

"I need elderberries," he said without preamble as he walked into the kitchen.

Iafail, a frequent inhabitant of the kitchen and its garden, did not turn around at his entrance. "Get them yourself. They have only recently gone out of season; it is far too much work to entice them to grow again."

"Oh, I love elderberries!" said Elrond, popping his head around the garden door, for the gardens were one of his favorite places to read.

"Give me five minutes then, little prince!" said Iafail with a bright smile. "You may have as many as you want."

Maedhros raised an eyebrow.

She glared. "As if you can say no to them when they ask for things."

"I said nothing," he said with a grin.

Less than an hour later, he placed before Gil-Galad a plate of the fluffiest elderberry pancakes he could produce and waited with bated breath to see if they would be accepted.

Gil-Galad thanked him, picked up a fork, and ate.

Maedhros said nothing aloud, but felt as if he might burst with happiness.

Even the rejection of Fingon's ribbons several minutes later, and Gil-Galad's departure after only another day, could not dampen his mood.

"When will Gil-Galad return to us?" said Elrond, lying on his back in the meadow beneath the stars.

"I know not if he will," said Elros beside him, playing with the sparks of starlight dancing across his fingertips. "Perhaps we should call him back."

"We have to enforce that rule at some point, I suppose, or no one will ever believe in it."

They reached out with their minds, down the thread that tied Gil-Galad to Faerie, and pulled.

Maedhros waited by the boundary for Gil-Galad. He had sensed his son's approach the day before, and thrown himself into making things perfect. Elrond and Elros had helped him bake a cake.

He hoped they would not be disappointed if Gil-Galad refused to be a part of their family officially. He would be gutted, of course, but that pain meant nothing if his younger sons were hurt by the rejection. They wished for their elder brother to accept them as his siblings, and refusal, even if it was really only refusal of Maedhros, would break their hearts.

When Gil-Galad crossed the boundary, Maedhros fought to keep his overwhelming joy from pouring out from himself as light.

"Welcome, High King Gil-Galad," he said. "It is an honor to host you again here in my home."

"Thank you, King Maedhros, for your gracious welcome." So formal! Maedhros felt his heart ache. "It is always a joy to be received in Imladris; never before have I seen a land so fair."

He held out an arm. "Will you walk with me to the palace? The hour grows late, and the air cold." He laughed. "I suppose you would be bothered little, but I have become quite conscious of temperature in care of my sons, who feel it more acutely." It was hard not to notice cold weather when the more delicate health of Elrond and Elros needed such careful attention.

"I see," said Gil-Galad. "How have things been since last I was here?"

Maedhros smiled. "Things have gone well indeed, thank you. Those friends of Elros have visited, and other acquaintances of his, and his lady has made progress on her quest. No friends of Elrond have come by, but I suppose he has always been less outgoing."

Oh, no, that was not true, was it? How rude of him! Maedhros continued, "You are a friend of his, though, and you have come to see him, so I suppose my statement was less than accurate. He does treasure your company, you know, and Elros does too." And so do I, perhaps even more than they do!

"I am glad to see them, as I ever am. If they ever wish to travel, be assured that they shall find welcome with me and my people in Lindon," said Gil-Galad, and that was good news indeed! Even if Gil-Galad did not wish to be their brother through Maedhros, he would treat them as beloved kinsmen nonetheless.

"They would enjoy that, I am sure," said Maedhros, "though we would miss them terribly here. It is difficult to let them go, when even now the safety we have is a strange revelation, when so recently merely leaving the home was too dangerous to think of." He could not say exactly that the twins were very sheltered, considering how he had met them and the general state of Beleriand in their childhood, but he and Maglor had done their best to keep them far from danger.

"How are they?"

"They shall be all the better for your presence, I expect!" said Maedhros, with nothing but honesty. "But Elrond has designed a building to lie within a waterfall, and begun overseeing its construction, while Elros has spent his time split between the library and the gardens."

"Keeping busy, I see."

"They are young and full of energy," said Maedhros, waving a hand. He found it endearing, though he would prefer it if they slowed down at times. "Looking at them, you would think it an unforgivable crime to take a break! But they become so restless with nothing to do."

Gil-Galad said, "I can understand that; after all, they have never lived in peace before. It must be strange still to lack constant change and danger."

Maedhros hummed in response, and they walked through the valley to the ringing of the bells in the softness of early evening.

When they came to the palace, Gil-Galad paused.

"Come in," said Maedhros. "There is no banquet tonight; I thought you might prefer a smaller family dinner. I think you will like the foods I have prepared." He had set the dough for the spanakopita to chill already, since it took so much time and work to roll out (but his children were worth it, of course).

"I am sure I will. I have never tasted anything so good as that which I have had here."

Maedhros beamed with pride and happiness, leading Gil-Galad to his rooms. "I shall send the twins for you in an hour," he said, and went to finish his cooking, very nearly forgetting to keep himself firmly on the ground when he felt so light (strange, how quickly he had become accustomed to being not-quite-an-elf).

Chapter 21: In Fairyland Obliged to Bide (2)

Chapter Text

Inzilarî had kissed her love goodbye and gone from Faerie to fulfill her quest, hopeful and joyous. He gave her a gardenia flower that would never die and wished her luck.

She returned to the seaside, telling their people that Elros was well and would join them soon, that she had found a way to free him from the Fairy Kings. This news was received with great joy, and there was celebration.

And that night she went to the shore and waved at the evening star, then unfurled a banner she had written on, asking permission to marry Elros.

Once for yes and twice for no, it read after the question.

The star blinked once.

She cheered.

Everything was perfect. Soon she would steal away her love from Faerie and they would build a life and a kingdom together in peace and prosperity. She could put up with any amount of drama from his fathers for the sake of their future together.

(And she had a feeling she might have to -- Elros would not be content to be separated from them, and neither they nor he would be content to be without theatricality.)

Maedhros felt his heart pound.

One more try, he thought to himself. If he does not accept, if he does not trust me in this though he trusted me not to enchant him with dinner, I will cease my efforts and hope the twins are not too upset.

He pulled the ribbons from his pocket. "Would you?" he asked, trying to seem as if his heart did not hang in the balance.

And then, to his surprise, "Please do," said Gil-Galad.

His heart leapt.

Not only had he accepted the ribbons, the heirloom of Fingon, but he wished Maedhros to put them in! It was better than he could ever have hoped.

He brought Gil-Galad, his dear son, to the room where he and Maglor spent time with Elrond and Elros and braided their hair together; it had hairbrushes of all sorts and scented hair oils (nothing but the best for their beloved children, of course).

There was also a single pair of scissors, which Maedhros did not like acknowledging the existence of. No matter how necessary it was, he hated having to cut his sons' hair; it felt cruel though they insisted they did not mind at all and they would get split ends (a human affliction, it seemed) otherwise.

He guided Gil-Galad to a seat and quietly hummed an old lullaby he had once sung to him, slowly and gently unbinding his hair.

"You know," he said as he worked, breaking the comfortable silence, "your father would be so proud of you, for everything you have done. I am sure he watches over you from the Halls, beaming with pride at how good a king his son is. I cannot -- I cannot make amends for having left you, my dear one; I thought you dead and I have never been so glad to be wrong as I was when you came here. I would have come to you if only I had known."

Gil-Galad relaxed slowly, and Maedhros smiled as he began to braid in the ribbons. He had practice enough doing this one-handed, thank goodness.

As he did so, he reached out with his mind and began the twining of a fëa bond in the same process by which he had adopted Elros and Elrond, for their bond had decayed and disappeared since Gil-Galad was separated from him.

"Ai, you look so much like Fingon with these in your hair. Would that he were here! But I assure you, your father loves you dearly, as do I. You shall be very happy here, I will ensure it. I love you."

He tied off the last braid and kissed Gil-Galad on the head.

My son, he said down the bond, accompanied by a flood of love and warmth.

His dear Artanáro had finally come home.

Elrond bounced impatiently. "But he is our brother now. We should be able to see him whenever, and he needs to get beads to represent us in his braids." He held them in his hand, a deep purple bead with a white tree and a lavender with a silver river.

"He is asleep," said Elros. "And calm down, your excitement and Atya's shocked the whole valley into sudden spring. It gives me a headache."

"Oh, and your own happiness has not affected your beloved plants at all? Forgive me if I find that implausible."

Elros glared at him. "I want to see him, too. It is certainly late enough in the morning for it, but we are not yet so close with him that we may intrude when his door is closed and locked. But..."

"But?"

"We need not use the door."

Elrond grinned. Half a moment later, the room contained not two half-elves but two shining starlings, who flew out through the window and in through the window of Gil-Galad's room.

Elros! Elros, we have a problem!

Elros rolled his eyes and pushed his book away. The last time you said that, you had just run off with our fathers and left me behind.

This might well be worse, said Elrond.

That got Elros's attention. How could it be worse? And I thought you were at tea with Gil-Galad!

I am. He did not know that Atya and Fingon are his fathers. He still might not know about Atya, actually -- he figured it out from the stone in the garden, he said.

Elros let out a heavy breath. f*ck.

Elrond sent him the sense of strong agreement. He needs to leave. I will send someone to fetch Círdan to pick him up, and we will go visit him and talk in Lindon.

Elros stood and went in search of Maglor to convince him that it would be safe to leave.

"Atto? I think Gil-Galad is going to have to leave soon," he said, finding his father in a tower practicing his music -- another ballad, one that Glirlind had taught him, of a woman who drowned her sister to gain the man they both loved but found herself confronted by a harp of her dead sister's bones that sang and revealed her crime.

Maglor paused his music. "That is too bad; I am sure my brother will be disappointed. Still, it has been three months."

"Elrond and I would like to go visit him in Lindon for a time, if we may."

As Elros had predicted, Maglor was hesitant. "I suppose it is safe enough," he said, "but it is a long way there. You will need an escort, at the very least."

"I am sure my friends will--"

"An escort you are not practically engaged to one of the members of. Have you no sense of propriety, little star?" Maglor smiled as he spoke, amused.

"We can fly, then. Lindon is close enough that we can get there quickly, and no one will notice our movements."

Maglor still hesitated.

"Please?"

He relented. "All right, dear. You may fly there if the weather is favorable, and you must notify us when you arrive and tell us when to expect you back."

Elros beamed and hugged him. "Thank you, Atto!"

Maglor embraced him in return. "I love you, starling. I will tell Maedhros, and he will surely let you go visit if you promise to be safe."

"Do you have everything?" said Maedhros. "I gave you food for the journey, and to share with your brother, and--"

"And your cloaks? We cannot have you getting cold," said Maglor.

"We have everything," Elrond said.

"And we brought the cloaks patterned with feathers, to make people think it is not our own ability, having wings. Like selkies."

"Good, darling," said Maglor. "But oh, do be careful! I shall worry ceaselessly until you return. Let us walk you to the far boundary."

In fact, all the people of Imladris had come to see their princes off, and the bells rang joyously even as Maglor (and others) came close to tears at their departure.

"Give your brother our love," said Maedhros as they walked, past the ring of mushrooms and over the gold and iron bridge and to the standing stone. "And if you think you might convince his court to open up trade, please do try. I love you, perfect ones, please be safe."

Maedhros and Maglor gave their sons each a hug and a kiss, and their people waved them off in a crowd stretching back almost to the valley proper.

Elrond and Elros took a deep breath.

They leapt into the air.

Chapter 22: Blithe as Birds in Spring

Chapter Text

Gil-Galad's head spun as the story finished. Elrond and Elros sat fidgeting nervously.

"Please do not tell Atya," Elros pleaded. "He meant no harm to you, and truly he thought you had chosen freely."

"I do not know what to think," Gil-Galad admitted, "but I believe you, if you say he did not know."

The twins relaxed slightly.

"And yet, I do not understand how you came to be their sons in the first place, after what they did," he said.

Elrond said, "Oh, we hated them with a burning passion at first; how could we not? But they meant us no harm, and we came to realize that."

"It becomes hard to hate people," said Elros, "when you see that they are trying to do right by you. They gave us a home and safety, and cherished and taught us, as they would do for any children in their care. It is not such a surprise that we came to care for them, is it?"

"Or that, when we discovered our abilities, we chose to use them to keep our family and our people safe?"

"I suppose not, but -- forgive me for saying so, but many, including myself, were under the impression that you were unhappy and unsafe, that you were at best enchanted into love." Gil-Galad hesitated before speaking further. "The rumors should not be dignified by speaking them aloud, nor should the thoughts I had when I saw you in Faerie, but they were horrible. Your presence here is the first time anyone has seen Elrond in a quarter century."

"Think you then that the rumors will intensify?" said Elrond.

"Of course they will," said Elros before Gil-Galad could open his mouth to speak.

Elrond sniffed. "There is no need to be so condescending. Our childhood was quite sheltered from that sort of thing, and I have since been living amongst my Court, of which I am beloved. No one would spread rumors about me and I would never hear any."

"I am glad to hear that you never had to deal with this," said Gil-Galad, "but yes, your arrival has already caused an uproar. I hope you have some pretext for being here; it may help."

"Never fear on that count! We are here to open trade, in theory, and in practice too if you wish. We can grow anything in Faerie," said Elros. "But if you were so worried for us as you say, there is one more thing. You know that Atya and Atto braid our hair, of course."

Gil-Galad nodded. He had even had the privilege of braiding his brothers' hair, and they his, and it had felt far too right for his comfort.

Elrond said, "Please do not panic, but I doubt you saw the hair scissors, did you?"

Gil-Galad panicked. "What?" he cried.

"Calm down," said Elrond. "We are unharmed and unshorn, merely prone to split ends. It is completely non-traumatic for us, if not for our fathers, who hate having to do it."

"I can see why! I should very much hope they have held onto their morals enough for that," said Gil-Galad. He could not comprehend how such a thing could be less than entirely awful; the very thought horrified him.

"There is no need to worry," said Elros. "We are safe, and so are you. I promise."

Gil-Galad sighed. "If you say so. I need -- I will need time, to come to terms with all this, but I will not tell anyone."

"Thank you," said Elrond, sounding very grateful indeed.

Whatever might be said about the Fairy Kings (and one could say a great deal), their prisoner-sons had certainly been trained well in the art of negotiation, and Elrond and Elros went home to Faerie with an advantageous trade deal and a hug from their brother.

They came to Lindon regularly after that, though usually one at a time while the other stayed home, and Gil-Galad visited them in turn, having decided that even his complicated feelings towards his father could be ignored in favor of his love for his brothers.

Once in a while, he brought another elf with him, usually a guard or assistant, so his doings would be less mysterious, and Maedhros and Maglor would let them in alongside him.

"Dear Dramhor,

I know, my dearest sibling, that you told me I must write, but I know not if this will reach you before I do, the way time spools itself about Faerie in unknowable patterns.

I accompanied High King Gil-Galad, as you know, and he assures me that we are safe enough as long as we do not violate the laws of hospitality. This inspires little confidence in me, but I suppose he is the expert, insofar as there are experts on this sort of thing.

I have met the princes -- they seem to be doing well, though more fae than elf or Man. I wonder if I would become so, if I remained here.

And it is tempting! I have never seen any place half so beautiful or full of joy as Imladris, and the people may be strange, but they are fair and wondrous. I was warned to eat nothing after the first night's feast, but already I wish I could. Would that you were here, to glare at me to keep me in line.

Would it be so bad to be trapped here?

No, I know it would, but the thought has woven itself into my mind, and I cannot escape it, least of all when the spray of the waterfalls catches in the sunlight or the sweet breeze carries the scent of unfamiliar flowers or one of the Fair Folk takes wing in a burst of shimmering light to fly to the tall and shining spires.

I have even seen the princes fly -- they wrap their wing-cloaks about themselves and become starlings, and freely they take to the air. I am not surprised they stay even now, for if this land is half so tempting to them as it is to me, they likely see no cause to leave. What better way to keep a prisoner but to give them paradise tailored to their wishes?

The High King is busy, and spends much of his time in conference with the Fairy Kings and the princes, without me. I do not see why he brought me, honestly, but I suppose I am glad he did, for this experience is without parallel.

Your loving sister,

Rethes."

Inzilarî -- Loþetári, now, the name her love called her by and the name she would take up as Queen -- looked in the mirror to ensure she had dressed herself impeccably. Garments of gold and purple, shining battle-axe, hair covered in white silk and a crown of flowers and aþëa aranion. This was an important day.

She knew Elros was happy and needed no rescuing, but he had confessed that he would very much like her to rescue him in a suitably song-worthy fashion, and had concocted a scheme (and a script) for the entire affair, which his family went along with to varying degrees of fond exasperation.

It involved a riddle contest, ostensibly because she sought to win her love by wits, but really, as he had confided in her, because he found it attractive how good she was at them. And anyway, audiences loved a good riddle contest, even in stories.

She sighed and rolled her shoulders. After that, she would have to carry Elros out of the valley in a dramatic escape, because according to the story he had dreamed up, if he touched the ground of Faerie again he would be obliged to stay forevermore.

Eru, she loved him.

They had all had dinner together, herself and her fairy lover and his family, including the High King (and that had been an interesting conversation), and Elros had given his final edits to the script before they had all gone to ready themselves.

The melodrama went smoothly, and she soon carried her true love from the house of his fathers and through the borders of the land, looking at him with adoration which she saw returned in full measure in his eyes.

When they passed the standing stone, she set him down.

"My dearest love," he whispered. "How radiant you are beneath the Moon, and how unparalleled in wit! I may have loved you first for your fierceness in battle, but it was your silver tongue which won my heart fully, and your sharp mind."

She smiled. "O my adored, would that any words could encompass your excellence! How you do shine in the darkness, beloved, how your voice charms me! To know that you think of me, that you hold me in your mind and in your heart, is a greater joy than any in the wide world."

His form blurred for a moment as he lost control of it, the very air heating slightly with the force of his blush. She won again.

Chapter 23: Won Him From the Fae

Chapter Text

An excerpt from the journal of a Númenórean in the days of Tar-Minyatur and Tar-Loþetári (original text in Quenya):

The Fair Folk have come today.

There is rejoicing all about the isle, for the coronation and the wedding of our monarchs, but there is a strangeness in the air, and a ship came into the harbor at Rómenna, carrying the fae of Imberissë, the land where Tar-Minyatur was once held under enchantment before Tar-Loþetári rescued him.

Everyone knew they were coming, of course; the deal was that they might visit Númenórë whenever they pleased, and was not the city of Armenelos itself built by the hands of fairies? I have heard it told that Prince Aþelairë, the brother of Tar-Minyatur who resides still among the fae, commanded its building in his brother's honor and designed it from the cobblestones up to the domed roofs.

I saw the Prince leave the ship, after the lords and ladies. He looks so much like Tar-Minyatur, and still like Tar-Minyatur the flowers bloom where he walks, but there is something strange about him. He walks too lightly and moves too fluidly -- I have met elves, and he is not like them, even if perhaps he was half-elven once.

(I do not know if I believe that he was. He could just as easily be a changeling, if he is so identical to the king.)

But the Fairy Kings! The elder one has hair of flame, sometimes in a literal manner, and when the younger speaks, I hear the ocean in his voice. All the fae shine, but the royals glow most of all.

They are guests, I know, and may not harm any of us save if we harm them first, but it is hard not to fear.

The monarchs welcomed them to the palace, and Tar-Minyatur allowed the Fairy Kings to treat him as their son, as if he were still their treasured stolen child. I suppose, for immortals, he might be.

And yet, I wonder. What must Imberissë be like, for the Fair Folk to dwell there? For Tar-Minyatur to have been held there for nineteen years, his own will chained, and to still speak of no unhappiness in the Fairy Kings' clutches?

I am sure that if I asked, if I so much as exhibited interest, I would be stolen away. Oh, I might return, but I doubt it. Better that I remain here.

It is said that they shall visit every year or two. How terrifying it will be, to watch them sweep in and cover the land in their magicks. I doubt I shall ever become used to it.

"I do not trust the fae," Celebrimbor said, often. "No matter that they were once my family, I am not one of them."

He was a smith, so it seemed true enough to most; he could hardly hide an aversion to iron.

Celebrimbor did visit Imladris, once it was a regular enough activity among the elves to make it less suspicious for him to do it, and found himself greeted immediately and warmly by Elrond.

"Welcome, cousin," said Elrond with a smile and his arms extended in greeting.

Celebrimbor's heart broke at such clear evidence of enchantment, but clasped Elrond's arms and kissed his cheek. "Thank you. It is good to see you well."

"Likewise." He released his grip. "Would you like to join me for luncheon, as my guest? I do long to know of the outside world; all my news comes from visitors and from my brother when we go to see him."

"I would love to," Celebrimbor lied, and less than half an hour later found himself seated in one of the high spires with an absurdly large and decadent meal spread before him, many of the dishes familiar recipes from home in Aman.

He reached forward, but hesitated.

"It is perfectly safe, freely given from me to you," said Elrond. "Go ahead and eat."

It was exactly as he remembered -- better, even! How could it be?

He knew his family had not been fae when last he had parted from them, in Nargothrond, and he was not like them, but some of their people were, so it could not be in the blood, and his father had worked iron without a care.

Perhaps he did not want to know how his family had become this way. Elrond seemed happy enough, enchantment or not, and if Gil-Galad had made no progress then Celebrimbor could do little.

"You are welcome to visit more often," said Elrond. "My fathers would be happy to see you, and if you wished to stay we would be honored."

"I do not think I can remain," said Celebrimbor, "but I will visit when I may. You are very much missed, you know, outside of Imladris."

"I know. But I am not yet ready to leave home."

The words struck Celebrimbor in the heart. Poor Elrond, whose home had been taken from him so young, and had been forced to make the best of imprisonment!

To the surprise of many, Elrond was eventually permitted to leave Imladris.

He came to Lindon -- to Gil-Galad, rather, the only one to whom his fathers would entrust his care -- with the air of Faerie about him, and said that he was permitted to go freely, for he had won his release.

Gil-Galad welcomed him, naming him his herald, and the rest of Lindon watched him with mingled pity and suspicion, but he proved himself quickly to be both kind and skilled, untainted by his centuries in the hands of the kinslayers, who had, no doubt, tried to warp him. A blessing that Elros had escaped and died free, and another blessing that Elrond had been released, however temporarily.

(There were rumors, though, that part of the reason Elros had been able to leave had been Elrond's willing sacrifice, staying with the Fairy Kings and allowing them to take away his free will in exchange for the release of his brother.)

And, no matter how normal and unchanged he seemed, he still wore his cloak of wings, though he never took the form of a bird, and he was adorned in faery finery rather than elven craft, marked by the gifts of the fae. The message was clear as day: Elrond belonged to the Fair Folk, no matter how much freedom he was given at the present moment.

When Annatar came, Elrond warned Gil-Galad and the people of Lindon. "Would you trust a fae?" he said. "One who comes with sweet words on his tongue and offers of gifts, when gifts must always be reciprocated? One with the gift of iron-touch?"

Lindon turned Annatar away.

Eregion did not.

"All are welcome here," said Celebrimbor, "and though I cannot trust the Fairy Kings, nor their people, an emissary of those Fair Folk from across the Sea is above suspicion, especially one so blessed by Aulë as to have the iron-touch."

But the Lord of Gifts revealed himself when the time came, and he demanded repayment in the form of the rings, which Celebrimbor would not give willingly.

And on the heels of this betrayal came Glorfindel, shining in gold and knowing nothing of the fae though he brought two with him.

"There is no need to panic," said Gil-Galad to his council. "Glorfindel has been vouched for by Lord Ulmo himself, and the fae who came with him were sent by the Valar as well, and we verified this claim. I have warned them to avoid Imladris already."

Glorfindel stood. "I was charged with the protection of Elrond son of Eärendil, and I will fulfill this duty. I mean no harm to anyone." It hurt to be so mistrusted.

"I know," said Gil-Galad, "and he is very much protected already, since he is claimed by the Court of Imladris and they will not suffer him to be hurt in any way."

Glorfindel did not know what the Court was, but did not like the sound of it. "What is that?" he asked.

"I will explain it to you after," said Gil-Galad. "It directly concerns your charge, after all."

"I am right here," said Elrond. "It is the group of fae who follow King Maedhros and King Maglor, and live to the east."

"And what have they to do with you?" said Glorfindel, horrified that Elrond could be mixed up with such people as the remaining Sons of Fëanor, who, he had been informed, had only gotten worse since he had last seen them.

"Can this please wait?" Elrond pled. "I will tell you later."

Glorfindel nodded. "As soon as the council finishes deciding whether or not I am Sauron, then."

He could barely focus on the meeting, so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely noticed when the council left.

Chapter 24: To His Fathers' Hall

Chapter Text

"You asked me what the Fairy Kings have to do with me," said Elrond, "and in truth I barely know where to begin. How much do you know of what befell since you died?"

"Little, I admit," said Glorfindel, "save your existence and the return of Sauron, and some hints of the Sons of Fëanor, as you and others have spoken of them."

Elrond sighed. "Then perhaps you do not know that my mother is Elwing the White, daughter of Dior, nor that she held the Silmaril during her escape from Doriath. When I was a child, the Sons of Fëanor came for it, and when they gained not what they sought, they took instead my twin brother and myself."

Glorfindel's eyes went wide. "Oh, young one..." he breathed, his heart breaking in sympathy. What had happened to Elrond's brother?

Elrond shook his head. "Worry not. They released us after Morgoth was defeated, but when they stole the Silmarils that had been recovered, they took me again as well. My brother, Elros, came to rescue me, and he, too, was trapped, but his lover rescued him. They were the first rulers of Númenor."

At least Elros had been freed, then, even if he was gone now. "And you?"

"I was released several centuries ago, to roam the world as I would after I won the right, but I am not free." He tapped a brooch he wore with the Star of Fëanor on it. "I am marked by the Court still."

"I still do not understand this talk of the Court," said Glorfindel. "What is it? Can you be freed in truth?"

"The Fairy Kings," said Elrond, "rule over a realm called Imladris, and the Fair Folk who live there are their Court. The kings once named me their son, as is sometimes the way with children who have the misfortune of being stolen by the fae, and therefore would not give me up, not for anything in Arda."

Ill news indeed! Glorfindel knew he must find a way, though, for Elrond was his charge, and must be protected even from the monsters who wrongfully called him son.

"I have been told some little about the fae," said Glorfindel. "How did the Sons of Fëanor come to be so?"

"I know not, but they have been, for as long as I have known them," said Elrond. "By this faery power my mother was changed into a bird as she escaped them, and so too is the realm of Faerie hidden and protected by the arts of the Fair Folk. And yet -- I will not lie to you and say I was unhappy in their care, for Imladris is a joyful place, and they are sure to grant my every wish save freedom."

"I am glad, at least, that you do not suffer," said Glorfindel, reaching out to squeeze Elrond's hand.

Elrond squeezed back. "They mean me very little harm, if any, even if they are strange and have quite forgotten the ways of being elves. I still in some measure belong to the Court, and this cannot be changed."

When Eregion was attacked, Gil-Galad and Elrond went to wage war with Sauron, but they were repelled and forced to flee into the north, seeking sanctuary.

But one day, as they made their way through the wilds, Elrond froze.

"Stop," he said. "I think -- I think I have a solution. We near the borders of Faerie, and they may let us in."

Gil-Galad's eyes widened. "Is that wise? They will give no aid that we do not repay them for thrice over, even if it is against Sauron, whom they hate."

"They will listen to me," said Elrond, "and if nothing else, they will give some aid if I agree to stay."

They came to the boundary stone, and Elrond led them across the border, which stopped none of them. Dramhor hurried to the front of the group, that they might stay close to Elrond and Gil-Galad, who moved onward with grim determination.

At the stream, the second boundary, two fae appeared, bowing deeply.

"Your majesty," said one (shining and golden with the wings of a butterfly) to Gil-Galad, and to Elrond, "your highness. Welcome back."

The other, who looked like a flower that had chosen to move and breathe, said, "Your highness, your fathers would speak to you. No harm shall come to your guests in the meantime, so long as they remain between the first boundary and the second, and eat nothing that grows here."

Elrond nodded and turned to Gil-Galad. "Keep them safe. I will see you soon."

With that, he walked into Imladris, the flower fae with him.

Elrond sprinted up the hill to the ring of mushrooms and crashed into Maedhros and Maglor's arms.

"Atya! Atto!" he cried as they embraced him. "I missed you."

"We missed you too, dearest," said Maglor. "You were not in Númenor when we last visited!"

"Gil-Galad needed my help," said Elrond.

Maedhros nodded. "And now Þauron has taken Eregion, has he not? We were preparing to go to war with him when we had news of your approach."

"He has. We need to stay here for a time, and fight from here if we can. Even Sauron cannot find Imladris if we do not want him to," said Elrond. "And Gil-Galad has missed you, too. We will simply tell everyone that I have traded my freedom for their safety, and no one will be the wiser."

"That sounds perfect, little star," said Maedhros. "But let them wait; you must be hungry, and I have made your favorites."

Elrond did not return, but the flower fae did, some time later.

"Welcome to Imladris, honored guests of Prince Elrond," she said. "You may come in if you wish, and be assured of your safety, for his highness has placed you under his protection."

Dramhor knew this could not bode well for Elrond, if he had not returned. What price was to be paid for the safety of so many?

But Gil-Galad entered, and they followed, not wanting to be far from their king in case of danger.

Dramhor had never entered Imladris proper before, and found themself shocked breathless at its beauty -- and at the tableau before them.

Elrond stood between Maedhros and Maglor, a smile fixed upon his face, dressed in the fashion of Faerie and crowned with a circlet bearing the star of Fëanor.

"Welcome, guests of Elrond," said Maglor. "It is our pleasure to host you here, and we thank you for returning our wayward son to us."

"I thank you, your majesties," said Gil-Galad. There was clearly more he wished to say, but he kept it within.

As if sensing a question, Maedhros said, "There is no need to worry about anyone being owed, either; Elrond has said that all he gives is given freely."

Which meant only Elrond would be indebted -- and they had already taken what they were owed, it seemed, for Elrond did not appear like to ever leave again.

Gil-Galad merely nodded and looked sadly at Elrond, then beckoned Dramhor forward with him. "Not everyone needs to come into the valley if they are afraid," he said. "But those who are injured will be healed here, and if anyone wants to be properly indoors rather than in a tent will have to cross over. I should very much like to have everyone past the second boundary, in any case, for the sake of safety."

Dramhor nodded. "I will ensure that everyone is told."

"Thank you. I must go now with my cousins, to speak of what is to be done about Sauron, but I am hopeful."

That night, Dramhor overheard Gil-Galad speaking to Elrond, who was more subdued than he had seemed earlier.

"And what did you give up?" Gil-Galad murmured. "Time? Centuries?"

Elrond gave a small and bitter laugh. "They would not be satisfied with time, not when I am theirs already."

Gil-Galad's voice softened, becoming almost inaudible. "Oh, Elrond. Was it your will again?"

Elrond gave a jerky nod, and Gil-Galad enfolded him in his arms.

"I am allowed to place no more people under my protection," said Elrond, "not for centuries after this. And I must remain within the valley for -- oh, I have forgotten the exact period, but a certain length of time for every person whose freedom I have guaranteed, beginning after Sauron is defeated. I am still permitted to leave to fight."

"Shall you regain your own mind and free will?"

"One day, yes, but -- it is long from now."

Gil-Galad squeezed Elrond's hands.

Dramhor crept away.

As soon as their listener had left, Gil-Galad said, "I cannot believe you went to sacrifice yourself! That was my plan!"

"Then you should have brought it up first," said Elrond. "I deserve a break, too, and I cannot have one if I am made regent in your absence."

"Glorfindel is going to murder me."

Chapter 25: Before the Light

Chapter Text

After the Fair Folk rode to war, and the Númenóreans came to change the tide, Sauron was beaten back. In the aftermath, Elrond was taken away north to Faerie once more.

Many went with him, those who had fled Eregion being granted safety and the choice to remain forever, if they so wished, and others coming to stay only temporarily.

Celeborn was of the latter group, awaiting his wife and daughter, and he tried his best to be a comfort to Elrond, but the half-elf's time was taken up almost entirely by the Fairy Kings and his duties as the newly-returned prince.

(Elrond sighed in comfort as he wrapped the familiar enchantment of his glamour around himself. It had been far too long.)

But soon, Galadriel came, her daughter Celebrían in tow, to upset the peace of the valley.

"There is something afoot with my cousins," said Galadriel for the thousandth time. "I do not know what, not yet, but I will."

Celebrían rolled her eyes. "Yes, mother."

"And you will not do anything dangerous, do you understand? You must follow the rules, strange as they are. Trust nothing and no one."

"I shall." Celebrían tried not to bounce in excitement. She had never been to Faerie before, and looked forward to it very much.

It was past nightfall when they came near to the edge of Imladris, and to Celebrían's surprise, a figure awaited them at a standing stone, just within the boundary, wrapped in shadow. As they approached, the figure moved towards them, leaving the stone, and the darkness left them as the shrugging-off of a cloak.

"Welcome!" said the figure, who she could now see to be an elven-looking man wearing deep indigo robes. "Your coming has been awaited, Princess Galadriel, Lady Celebrían."

"Elrond," said Galadriel with a nod of greeting.

Celebrían said nothing at all, staring (hopefully not noticeably) at Elrond. He moved oddly, like a marionette on strings, but graceful all the same.

So this was the Fairy Prince she had heard so much of. Half the tales said he was a prisoner, and the other half (the ones the Men told, mostly) said he was fae like the rest of them, and dangerous.

He certainly seemed dangerous, with his keen eyes and honeyed voice, but not in a way that scared her -- more, perhaps, in a way that intrigued her.

One story said he enchanted and beguiled fair maidens; perhaps this was why her mother was being so strict with her. But she doubted, even if the tale were true at all, that the fair maidens would need much encouragement to follow him into Faerie.

No one had ever told her he was so beautiful.

(Was it her imagination, or was he looking at her?)

"Come with me," said Elrond. "My fathers will be glad to see you, and Lord Celeborn will too, I am sure. You are most welcome here."

They followed him into Imladris, and Celebrían kept her eyes on him, despite the wonders of the land around them. The night-blooming flowers, the shining waterfalls, and the faery music were indescribably beautiful, but none held her attention half so well as the prince.

He brought them to a palace in the heart of the valley, their paths lit by fairy-fires floating in the air, and bade them enter with him.

"For it is late," he said, "and you may be welcomed properly tonight, if you wish, or tomorrow if you should choose to rest."

"We shall rest tonight, if you would be so kind as to show us the way to my husband," said Galadriel.

Elrond nodded. "This way, then." He gestured down a hallway and led them to what must be the guest wing, then knocked on one of the doors. "Lord Celeborn? Your family is here."

Celeborn opened the door, and Celebrían forgot her curiosity, overwhelmed with relief that her father was safe, embracing him tightly.

(Elrond flopped face-first onto his bed and screamed into a pillow.)

Late that night, or rather early the next morning, Celebrían rose from her bed, finding herself restless despite how tired she had been before, and crept out of the rooms she and her parents had been given. She knew not if this skulking were permitted, but it would hardly matter if she could simply refrain from getting caught.

The palace moved, her father had told her, in accordance with the whims of the fae; the rooms and hallways rearranging themselves. However, it was said also to respond to guests. If she were lucky, she might find her way to the gardens, which were said to be unparalleled in Arda save by the royal garden of Númenor and Lórien in Valinor.

She could claim that she had gone on a walk for poetic inspiration, if someone found her. Most would probably believe it, even.

The palace, even past midnight, was hardly gloomy; its airy hallways were lit by enchanted lamps and fresh air came in from the many open windows. Far-off, she heard the music and laughter of a fairy revel, but followed it not, knowing she might be drawn in if she did.

But at last she found an open door to the garden.

There were birds that sang in the night, here, she found as she entered, their songs just as sweet as the music of the fae, and the starlight from above lit the world in silver.

She walked softly among the plants of the garden, delighting in the sensation of soil beneath her bare feet, especially the feeling of such a joyful piece of earth, which sang its love for those who cared for it.

Celebrían sighed in contentment. She might find some inspiration here after all; Faerie seemed to be a veritable fount of it.

A soft noise came from behind her.

She whirled around to see Elrond, and as she watched him walk through the flowers and the grasses, the plants growing higher to touch him and others springing up around his feet, the singing birds mimicking his quiet humming, his face radiant in the light of the stars, beautiful and beautiful and dangerous, a thousand poems came to mind unbidden and pushed at her voice to be spoken.

He tilted his head as if listening to the songbirds, then turned his gaze upon her. "Good evening, Lady Celebrían," he said. "Or should I say good morning?"

She swallowed down the poetry and said instead, "Either would do, I think. I must say, I did not think to meet anyone in my sleepless wandering; if I have trespassed, I apologize."

"Think nothing of it. It seems we had the same idea, coming out to the garden, and if you would have company I would be pleased to stay." Countless flowers of caborfind grew where he stood.

Softly, almost afraid of her own words, she said, "I would like that."

Elrond could hardly believe this horrible coincidence. Of course he had to run into her in the middle of the night while completely underdressed!

(Yes, his standards of dress were very high, but he was in Faerie at present. Not long ago he would have considered this attire far too formal, since he had so recently been in battle, but here? Here he was safe and ought to dress like it, and besides, fae fashions were ornate.)

It would be nice, too, if the birds and the plants would stop embarrassing him by expressing the emotions he was trying to hide.

There was a stream there in the garden, and he brought her to its banks, where there were berries growing and comfortable places to sit. "Might I ask what pulled you from your rooms?" he said.

She gave a light shrug. "I awoke and could not return to slumber, and thought I might wander till either sleep found me or the dawn did. Or perhaps inspiration would come for my writing, in which case I would hardly mind being awake."

Her writing! He had read her works before, the poetry and the fiction both, and held great fondness for them. "Have you found any?"

Her eyes darted away from him for a moment. "Some, I think."

"I look forward to reading anything you come up with," he said, hoping this was not too forward.

"Thank you, I hope you will like it." She hummed, splashing her fingers in the stream. "I am quite intrigued by this place. I have never been to a Fairy Court before."

"I hope it does not disappoint."

She laughed. "It does not. And I certainly recognize your hand in its construction, from my time in Númenor. Be careful, my lord; I could very nearly have construed that as fishing for compliments."

Elrond felt his face heat, and a peony bloomed nearby. "That was not my intention, my lady, I assure you. Besides, it would hardly be fair of me to ask your thoughts yet, since you have not yet seen the valley in daylight."

"Then I must ask for a tour," she said, "if that is not too bold a request."

Anything for you, anything to be in your company, he thought, but said, "For an honored guest, there is no such thing! I would be happy to."

She had not been unafraid when he had led her to the waters, remembering the ballad of the fairy knight who drowned fair princesses, but bravery was among her virtues and her weaknesses both, so she had accompanied him.

They spent a pleasant hour or two there by the stream, and she found herself rather charmed by the Fairy Prince (though not in the magical sense, at least not yet), but when the sky began to lighten he stood and offered her a hand.

"Would you permit me to escort you back, my lady? Your parents will certainly worry if they find you missing when they wake."

"Please do. I would hate for them to tear the place apart looking for me before I have seen it by the light of day."

Chapter 26: Fair Maiden, View Me Well

Chapter Text

"I know you went out last night," said Galadriel.

Celebrían cursed silently.

"I certainly hope you avoided doing anything dangerous, but I doubt that is the case."

"Nothing dangerous," said Celebrían, "just a walk in the garden when I could not sleep. I did not eat or drink anything, or walk across the stream, even! It was perfectly safe."

Galadriel narrowed her eyes, but let it be. "Well then, you must be hungry. We have been invited to breakfast with my cousins, and Maedhros's cooking is not to be missed."

Grateful for the change of subject, Celebrían went to dress.

A few minutes later, she reemerged, finally wearing something other than traveling clothes, and her hair loose now that she had no worries about keeping it neat on the road, and they went to breakfast.

Breakfast, in a small courtyard, turned out to be fresh fruit and a selection of small flower-shaped pastries, each with a different filling and all delicious. They looked as if they had taken hours.

She looked out of the corner of her eye at Elrond, who sat to her left (and that had been a trial, managing to sit anywhere but between her parents), and -- there! Had he just been looking at her, too? She thought so, but he would not meet her eyes.

"These are impressive, cousin, as always," said her mother. "But I remember them being more of a dessert than a breakfast food."

It was a pointed remark. Celebrían wished to sink into her chair in embarrassment.

"Normally, yes," said Maedhros in a perfectly pleasant manner, clearly responding to her in kind. "But they are just as suited for the morning, save for the amount of time they take to produce."

"You must have woken very early to make them, then. Truly, fae hospitality is not something to be scoffed at."

"While of course I would be so dedicated, for the sake not only of my guests but of my beloved son, I am afraid I did not; time is within our power to slow or speed."

"Well, that must be convenient. Time was that you would spend all day in the kitchen."

Did she really have to insult their host's cooking?

Celebrían glanced at Elrond in the hopes that he might have sympathy, and saw a despairing look to mirror her own. Embarrassing parents were universal, it seemed.

After the meal, and a great deal of their respective parents sniping at each other, Elrond said, "Lady Celebrían, might I take you on a tour of Imladris?"

She opened her mouth to say yes, but--

"Not without a chaperone," interrupted Galadriel and Maglor simultaneously, before glaring at each other.

"Huincelurë can come with us," said Elrond. "They should not be busy today."

Maedhros nodded. "Suitable enough for me." He looked to Galadriel and Celeborn.

Celeborn nodded, and Galadriel sniffed but said, "Good enough, I suppose. Go ahead, but do not make me come looking for you."

If her mother approved, then there was surely no danger, and therefore no reason not to go with Elrond on this tour.

(This was definitely not disappointing, she told herself. Danger was not something to be sought out anyhow.)

He offered his arm and she accepted, glad that he was once again capable of looking at her. Perhaps she wanted him to look at her more.

Far from his jerky, puppet-like movements from when she had first arrived, today his motion was a steady glide across the cobblestones, the occasional soft sound of a footstep the only hint that he touched the ground at all.

"We shall have to go and find Huincelurë," he said, "but they will be no bother, I am sure. I think they are at the library."

"Are you sure our reputations can survive an unaccompanied walk to the library, my lord?" she said, a smile on her face.

He smiled back, then quickly looked away as if embarrassed. "It is not a long walk, and the path is very open. There are enough people around, I should think."

She looked around. There were a few fae about, she saw, walking through the valley or sitting in trees. Perhaps not enough to call this part of the outing sufficiently public, but she would not tell her parents so.

They found Huincelurë in the library, as Elrond had said, which was an impressive enough place to warrant being the first part of the tour on its own.

"Good morning," said Elrond. "I do hope we are not bothering you, Huincelurë."

"Not at all, your highness. To what do I owe the pleasure?" they said, their ever-shifting smoke-like hair giving a clear source for their name.

Celebrían spoke up. "He is to take me on a tour of Imladris, but it was insisted upon that we have a chaperone on this outing. Would you accompany us?"

"Gladly, Lady Celebrían," said Huincelurë. "And I would be just as glad to become conveniently distracted at some point, if you wish."

Celebrían blushed and Elrond sputtered, "That -- that will not be necessary, thank you!"

(Not that Celebrían had never asked a chaperone to become conveniently distracted before, that she might have a moment alone with her companion, but she barely knew Elrond, unlike all the pretty ellith she had kissed when supposedly supervised.)

She wandered the library for a time, and by careful coincidence passed by where the volumes of poetry and of fiction were shelved that she herself had written, and found that the library possessed at least one copy of each of her works, all of them worn and well-read. Elrond had said he read her writing, which was already a gratifying thing to hear, but this was beyond flattering.

She tried not to read too much into it. Plenty of people lived in this valley and read in this library, did they not? There was no reason to believe it was because of him that they had been so worn down.

After the library, he led her through the orchards and gardens as Huincelurë followed behind.

Arm in arm with the Fairy Prince, she said, "You are a courteous guide, my lord, but I weary of the main roads. Will you show me the places you love?" That was certainly too forward. She looked away as she continued, "Inspiration shall come easier, I think, if I am given an insider's view of the beauties of the valley."

"I can do that," he said softly.

Elrond did not need to watch his step here, knowing every inch of his home as if it were an extension of himself.

And it was a good thing, too, for if he had to pay attention to anything but attempting to appear normal and not staring at Lady Celebrían, he would surely go mad.

(Her hair was unbound! He knew that this was normal, of course, for Sindarin elves and many Men besides, and that it meant nothing for her. And yet -- he could not help but be affected by it, no matter that he knew the logical truth; he was affected by everything she did and knew no way of stopping this.

He felt like to burst into flames at any moment, so great was the heat in his face.)

"I shall show you to the waterfalls," he said, changing direction to the outskirts of the valley. "There is one that I have built a structure within, which I think you will like."

Soon enough, they (and Huincelurë) entered the glass-and-crystal work inside the waterfall, where the waters ran down spiraling slides above the room and crashed over a dome in the roof and poured softly into pools all around, catching the light of the sun and turning to rivers of gold and scattering countless rainbows.

The place had little use in daylight, so bright was the sun in the crystal, but at night the fae danced here, where the water caught starlight in every droplet.

Celebrían gasped in wonder to see the waterfall thus from inside, but Elrond looked only at her.

Chapter 27: A Stately Groom

Chapter Text

It was not without sorrow that Celebrían left Imladris with her mother and father, but neither was it without inspiration. Faerie was full of wonders, and truly the beauties of the land inspired her, but it was one beauty that drew her attention most of all, and it was the prince.

Perhaps her next book would be a love story.

(Perhaps her next book would be published under a pseudonym, to save her from embarrassment.)

But he bade her farewell fondly, and encouraged her to write, and she flattered herself that there might be something in his voice that indicated more than simple courtesy.

"I shall write," she promised, "and visit when I am able."

He smiled. "Gladly would I visit you in turn, but there is no such choice for me, not for many years. When I am released, though, you shall be among the first to know, for I shall come to you."

"I look forward to it," she said. "Farewell, then, my lord!"

As they left, Celeborn said to her, "It is a lovely place, is it not? But I think you were enchanted by more than only its scenery."

Elrond watched her go, then returned to his fathers, seeking sympathy for his plight.

Maglor welcomed him to the music room with a small laugh at his forlorn expression. "Come and sit, little star," he said. "Let me braid your hair while you tell me your troubles; it seems to be out of sorts with itself!" And indeed, Elrond's hair had come partly loose in the time since the guests had left, as upset as the rest of him at the absence of Celebrían.

Elrond sat down and relaxed into his father's embrace and the gentle hands in his hair. A gentle purr started up in his chest as his eyes fluttered closed.

"Now, tell me what is wrong," said Maglor softly after unbinding each braid.

Elrond sighed. "I think I may be a little bit in love with Lady Celebrían," he confessed. "It has put me off balance. Thoughts of her fill my mind all my waking hours, and even in my dreams."

"Such is new love," said Maglor.

"Never have I felt this way before," said Elrond. "I never thought it could be like this! I had not given a thought to love, but now--" He broke off. "Now I think I understand all those love stories."

Maglor smiled. "Well, I am happy that you have learned something about yourself, and seen the world painted anew."

"But how am I to continue from here? This affection came upon me suddenly, and with its strength I know not how lovers manage it! She returns it not, I am sure, and even if she one day might it shall likely be a great while from now, for love grows as trees do, rather than blossoming in days, though for me it was the latter."

"I do not think fate would be so unkind as to give you a hopeless love," said Maglor. "But be patient, and let your own feelings settle too. There is much upheaval in the falling. How shall I do your hair, dear one?"

Elrond thought about it. "Would you put it in a braided crown? I think I will be spending the next few days outside the palace, and it needs to stay neat."

"Of course, precious." Maglor gave him a kiss on the head.

Elrond laid himself down in a river that night instead of the bed in his room, letting the water wash his whirling thoughts away as he was held safely in the embrace of the flowing stream.

(He had no fear of drowning, especially not here.)

He breathed out and allowed his awareness to sink into Imladris, making himself one with his realm. Every stone, every drop of water, every blade of grass, every breath of wind.

It was relaxing, being a valley and caring for his inhabitants. His thought brushed lightly over a bird, guiding it to a sheltered place in a tree, and he eased the troubled sleep of an elfling with nightmares. It was easy to fall into this work, his waking thoughts distant, as if nothing could be more natural than governing his valley in this fashion.

When he returned fully to himself in the morning, calm and cold and soaking wet from his night in the water, he found himself to be more settled than before.

Not, however, any less prone to theatrics. He had to write to Gil-Galad.

"My dear brother Elrond,

I received your letter with joy, having not seen you in some time, but after reading it I am no longer joyful. Do you not have two fathers with you who are more than willing to listen to your melodramatics, that you must pour out your anguished soul in a ten-page letter to me? I would be doing you a favor if I were to give it to Lady Celebrían, for half the thing is flowery descriptions of her hair in the moonlight.

I jest, of course; I love hearing from you, and I am not yet desperate enough to give her your letter, even if I expect I shall be so soon enough (though I am not known for my foresight, unlike some members of this family).

Already have I been on the receiving end of multiple tirades scolding me for letting you sacrifice yourself; I hope you appreciate what I put up with for you even after you so cruelly betrayed me by not letting me sacrifice myself instead. Glorfindel has informed me of his intention to go and rescue you, so be wary.

Also, our nephews and nieces like you better than me, and they are quickly becoming annoying, so they will have to visit you at some point. If they also attempt to rescue you, I apologize in advance.

I will visit when I can.

Your brother,

Gil-Galad."

Celebrían covered her face with her hands. She could not publish this. This could not see the light of day, ever, not in ten thousand years.

It was not that no one had ever published romance novels about the fae before, plenty had, but this was based on a specific person, and the Fairy Prince no less! What if he realized she had written it? What if he realized it was about him?

There was no cause for her to be so interested in him, even if he was fascinating, even if the romance and drama of his situation inspired her. Even if he was very, very attractive.

He would be upset if he read this. It was too intrusive.

She looked at the paper again.

"The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. It felt almost like a death sentence.

She dressed herself in her wedding gown and tried to smile, knowing she would never leave Faerie again, that the fulfillment of the bargain made would cost her freedom."

Celebrían would need to think up a reason for this bargain the lady made. Perhaps some necessity on behalf of her people?

(Was she really considering editing and continuing this? Really?)

"If the price demanded by the fae was her hand in marriage given to their king, then she would pay it. There was no other choice.

Silently she let herself be garlanded in chains of strange flowers, which grew not outside of Faerie, and followed her attendants to the pavilion where the ceremony would take place.

[Insert wedding scene here.]"

She had left some space to write it out later, when she had ideas for how the ceremony ought to go, but in her notes she had specified that the groom must also be wearing a wedding dress.

(This was definitely not because Elrond had worn a gown on the day she had departed.)

"The wedding feast was not a long one, and for this she was almost glad; her dread would only grow if given time. Her now-husband offered her his arm, which she took unhesitatingly despite her trepidation, and led her to the chambers they would share.

She noticed hardly anything at all about the room, her nerves making it impossible to focus, and it grew worse when her husband gently placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her to sit upon the bed.

'Allow me to help thee, my lady wife,' he murmured, and she nodded in assent. He began to carefully remove the garlands from her, the light brushes of his hands against her skin leaving a feeling of fire in their wake. She could not look him in the eye.

His hands went to her hair next, removing the circlet she wore and placing it on a bedside table, then moved to the blossoms in her hair, which he allowed to fall where they would, to the floor or upon the soft sheets. Her breathing was heavier, now, affected by their closeness and the gentleness of his touch.

When he finished, he stilled for a moment, then tilted her chin up to claim her mouth in a kiss, a gentle press of lips to lips as her eyes fluttered shut and they shared one another's air. His thumb brushed over her cheek.

He pulled away, after a time, but she did not yet open her eyes, holding onto the feeling.

'My lady wife,' he said, and she could hear his smile, 'may I?' His hands paused on the laces of her gown.

'Thou mayst, my lord husband--' she opened her eyes and the words died on her lips.

He was smiling, as she had thought, but not in softness, nor was it forced or reluctant as hers had been earlier in the day, no; it was an expression of satisfaction that had taken over his countenance. The sound of her heartbeat became almost deafening.

She had thought before that this would be over with quickly, a formality required of marriage, but he behaved as if this was an event to be savored -- and, perhaps, repeated."

Celebrían had stopped writing there, afraid to take any further steps in the story.

She looked away.

She looked back.

Celebrían bit her lip and picked up the pen once more.

Chapter 28: A Fairy Lithe and Limb

Chapter Text

Glorfindel stood outside the first barrier in his way, taking a deep breath and letting it out. He knew that this would be impossible, but for his charge, for Elrond, he could do it.

Three barriers between him and his goal, and Eru knew how many people, too, who would try to stop him. He had not had many dealings with the Fair Folk, but their power was spoken of in whispers among Men.

(He had heard Minastir talk of them, those fae who had spirited away his revered ancestor to the realm of delight and called him their own. Great was the rejoicing, he had said, in Númenor when word reached them that Elrond was freed.)

Glorfindel had only been in Middle-Earth again for a century, but the fact that Elrond had sacrificed himself surprised him not in the least. Be that as it may, he could not abandon the one he was meant to keep safe, could not leave him once more at the mercy of the kinslayers under whose control he had spent all his childhood and many centuries more, no matter how much he insisted he had not been harmed.

Another deep breath, and he walked past the standing stone.

Or tried to.

He crashed into an invisible barrier and staggered back, cursing.

"I am not trying to hurt anyone!" he exclaimed at it, knowing it was a magical boundary spell that could not hear him. "Well, maybe a little, but only if they have hurt Elrond first! Let me in so I may protect him."

Was it his imagination, or did he feel a wavering in the magic?

Cautiously, Glorfindel put a hand forward, and met no resistance. He walked forward. Still nothing, not even the spell that everyone had reported washing over them as they entered. Perhaps he still had the element of surprise.

He crept forward, staying off the path and trying not to give any sign of his presence, but there was no one about that he could see or hear; only far-off music indicated that the valley was inhabited at all.

The bridge he had been warned of came into view soon enough, and he wondered how best to proceed.

He chose the direct approach and walked across the bridge.

It did not let him cross with his weapons, though, weighing him down until he removed each of them and hid them where the fae would hopefully not find them.

Once again, it felt as if nothing had sensed him, so he continued onward.

To the ring of mushrooms, he whispered, "Let me rescue Elrond. I will make him safe; do you not want him to be well? Let me free him from this place, from his suffering."

He stepped forward into Faerie, but this time -- this time he was noticed by whatever watched the spells. He would have to be quick, then.

Where would Elrond be? It was early evening now, not that time meant much here. Celebrían had said something about the gardens at twilight, though, before blushing and changing the subject. He could start there.

The gardens were not small. He had not yet seen the royal gardens of Númenor, but they were first planted and cared for by the same hands, according to legend, and similar in size and in beauty. Glorfindel, upon finding the gardens, thought that Elros must have been an incredible gardener indeed.

The gardens were quiet, save for the birds and the low hum of the insects that summer evening brought to the air, and Glorfindel was careful not to make a sound by any means. The scent of the blooming flowers nearly made him dizzy, urging him to lie down and sleep deeply, giving himself over to the sweet dreams of Faerie.

He leaned against a tree for a moment, letting his eyes fall shut, but pushed himself away shaking his head. He could not fall prey to the tricks of this place.

After a time, he heard soft humming in the distance, which also seemed aimed at lulling him to sleep, but again he resisted, and followed the sound.

Its source, as it turned out, was Maglor.

Maglor sat upon the soft grass with his eyes closed, reclining against a tree while humming his sweet music and smiling. Beside him was Maedhros, also smiling, and between the two of them was Elrond, who appeared to be asleep. Maedhros tucked flowers into Elrond's half-unbound hair.

Glorfindel covered his mouth in horror. This was private, and he should not be seeing it! Neither should the kinslayers be seeing Elrond with his hair down, let alone touching it!

(Glorfindel wore his hair down as a matter of course; he had always carried a signed form from the king acknowledging that he was permitted to do so. Upon his rebirth, he had been given a similar one from Manwë.)

And how relaxed Elrond seemed, how vulnerable! How quietly accepting of the horrible affection showered upon him! Gil-Galad had warned him he might not like what he found, but this -- and it had been going on since Elrond was young!

It must be stopped.

He moved to make his presence known, but the moment he lifted his foot, Elrond's eyes snapped open, filled with unearthly light, and he sat up.

"There," said Elrond, pointing directly to the place where Glorfindel was concealed, and with that word vines burst forth, winding around Glorfindel's wrists and ankles, forcing him to be still.

Maedhros looked to where Elrond pointed and his eyes widened. Maglor hurriedly pulled a scarf over Elrond's hair.

"How dare you trespass!" said Maedhros, flames beginning to lick up the long braid that wound about his shoulders.

"And how dare you intrude on something private!" said Maglor.

Glorfindel struggled, but could not pull free. "How dare you do this to him!" he cried. Elrond deserved better than this cruel enchantment that made him go pliant in the embrace of his captors, that they might braid his hair to mark him as theirs.

Maedhros glared. "We are doing nothing wrong. You, however, have come into our realm unbidden and with stealth, and spied upon what is meant to be a private family matter, interrupting our time with our son."

"I came to bring Elrond home!"

"He is already home," said Maglor. "Why would he go with you when all he could wish for is here?"

"Aye, all he could wish for save freedom, but I am sure you saw to it he can no longer wish for that," Glorfindel spat.

"He can," said Maedhros mildly, "but he does not. Elrond, precious one, do you wish to leave?" He turned to Elrond, who had not moved, still held in the arms of Maglor.

"No," said Elrond. "I have no desire to leave my home where I am content and safe, and certainly not with one who would skulk in like a thief in the night rather than enter as an honorable guest."

Glorfindel looked upon him, and all at once realized that Elrond spoke the truth. No ill enchantments lay upon him from the kinslayers (for such things were visible to the sight of Glorfindel in the realm of the Unseen); the only spells he bore were of protection or those laid by his own self, and his entire being radiated power.

Glorfindel relaxed.

Maedhros narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What are you doing?"

"I admit my error," said Glorfindel. "Clearly I have misunderstood, and I apologize. Elrond may stay."

"That is not your decision, but thank you," said Maglor.

"Would you please let me free?"

Maglor turned. "Elrond, darling?"

Elrond glared, but the vines unwrapped themselves from Glorfindel's limbs, and he rubbed the soreness from his wrists. "Thank you. I apologize again for my conduct." He paused. "Yet, for all that, I cannot abandon my charge. Would it be possible for me to remain here?"

The two fae and their stolen child glanced at each other, clearly in mental conference.

"I suppose so," said Maedhros at last, "but you shall have to become a fae, to fit in."

Glorfindel grinned. "Can you make my hair look as if it is fashioned of real gold filaments?"

"I think I can see to that," said Elrond.

Chapter 29: So I Will Be Won

Chapter Text

"Have you heard? Glorfindel has gone over to the fae!"

"No!"

"He has indeed! He went to rescue Elrond, but when he came back--"

"--his hair like gold thread, and his eyes--"

"--abandoned his duty, then?"

"Must have! Ai, our last hope for that poor stolen peredhel--"

"What do you think they offered him?"

"--and how smug he looked, as if he had not betrayed Elrond at all!"

"Well, I heard that--"

"--and someone shall have to tell the Númenóreans what became of their honored uncle; I certainly do not envy Gil-Galad--"

"--truly lost to us, then?"

"That poor soul--"

"Alas for Elrond!"

"She woke up as a wedded woman, in her marriage bed with her husband's hand upon her waist. New and strange did not begin to cover it.

Her sleep had been deep, and the sweet and fanciful dreams of her rest dissolved in the morning light, quiet birdsong from outside the windows chasing away the last vestiges of slumber. As she took stock of herself, she noticed a slight and unfamiliar ache from the previous night.

Last night! She felt herself blush all over at the thought of it.

It had been -- it had been -- she had no words for the experience, but it had been far from unpleasant. She would not be averse to a reprise of it in the future, perhaps, even though the necessities were dealt with already.

(She had heard that the marriage act tended to improve with practice, after all.)

She looked to her husband, and saw that a smile had spread across his face. He was awake, and, she realized belatedly, could sense the direction of her thoughts through their bond.

He opened his eyes"

No, she could not write that. Most fae were like elves, in that they could sleep open-eyed, and this would make the object of her pining too obvious. She crossed it out.

"He brought a hand up to caress her face, causing her breath to hitch. 'Thou art eager, my lady wife,' he said, as self-satisfied as the night before, and kissed her. She returned the kiss, having determined recently that kissing him was very much an enjoyable activity.

'Good morning,' she said when they parted. 'Didst thou sleep well?'

'Better than ever, with thee by my side, but there is no dream that might be sweeter than waking, now that thou art my wife.' He kissed her again.

She wondered (this time more careful to hide her thoughts from possible detection) what her life would be here. She was a fairy's wife, now, and no other of that kind had ever come back among the elves to tell of their experiences. Nor, for that matter, would she.

It was not that she doubted that he would be good to her; he had sworn so in their marriage ceremony, but the standards of such things were not the same for fae and for elves."

Was that true? Celebrían was not sure, but it sounded reasonable, and the heroine had to have some doubt, or there would be no emotional significance to the hero calling her his queen and treating her so.

(Wish fulfillment in the highest degree, yes, but her name would not be attached to this novel, and that made it acceptable.)

What next? The heroine would continue fretting over her fate for a while longer, certainly, but the rumors of Faerie were so frustratingly vague that Celebrían had little to base the character's fears on. Then the couple would share a wedding breakfast, and the hero would continue to flirt outrageously (this was wish fulfillment, after all), and they would follow the tradition of visiting their families the day after the marriage.

She looked over the outline she had written. Ought the hero to show some more of his less elven traits soon? No, she thought, that would come later in the novel, as their relationship grew. Then, for the emotional climax, the heroine would find that her husband had in fact orchestrated the deal, having desired her since he had first laid eyes on her, and she would feel betrayed and trapped.

Then the conflict would be resolved, and then it would be resolved, and the couple would live happily ever after together.

She made a note on another piece of paper to remind herself of another story idea in this vein, that of a fair maiden stolen away to be a fairy's bride.

It was a pity her dreams could never be -- from what she had heard, Elrond had been forbidden to marry after Tar-Loþetári had rescued Elros, and few would dare to court Elrond at all knowing it was in defiance of the wishes of the Fairy Kings.

But she might dare. For a favorable glance from him, she might dare.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" said Maedhros, narrowing his eyes in suspicion as he placed a plate of waffles before Elrond.

Elrond looked away. "I slept some."

"That is not good for you," said Maglor. "You know you need rest, especially when you have stayed up so many nights of late; sleeping even less is not the solution."

"What kept you up?" said Glorfindel.

"Lady Celebrían came to visit briefly," said Elrond, voice barely loud enough to hear, looking as if he wished the ground to swallow him.

Maedhros raised an eyebrow.

Elrond knew this meant to continue. "We spent the night talking in the orchard. Nothing untoward occurred, even if the flowers insisted on revealing my feelings as best they could."

"She is not staying?" said Maglor.

"No, she only stopped by on her way to Lindon, but she plans to visit in the future if she can," said Elrond. "I hope she will. Also..." He looked away and said very quickly, "She may have been flirting. I mean, it is probably merely wishful thinking on my part, but some of the things she said--"

"This is good news, is it not?" Maglor asked. "Perhaps your affections are returned!"

Maedhros nodded. "And you shall have more chances to find out when she visits. I am very happy for you, darling." He pressed a kiss to the side of Elrond's head.

"You should invite her to stay," said Glorfindel.

"Out of the question. You people have already embarrassed me by telling stories about my youth in front of company, and I do not wish to repeat the experience. Besides, she may be under the impression that I am not allowed to have friends." Seeing their looks, Elrond said, "I panicked! It is all part of the charade, anyhow."

"You shall have to tell her the truth eventually," Glorfindel reminded him.

"She is halfway to knowing already; I would not worry about that part."

"Well, you could hardly love someone if they were not clever enough to see the truth, could you?" Maglor remarked.

Elrond gave a sniff in response. "I would love her no matter what; she has already won my heart many times over."

"You have low standards," said Glorfindel.

"There is no need to be unkind," said Maedhros. "She would be an acceptable suitor for Elrond if she chose to court him."

"But she will not!" said Elrond. "Even if she does return my affections, Gil-Galad has put it about that I am forbidden to have suitors at all, let alone wed, to keep away the annoying folk in Lindon."

"And if she does not think you well worth the danger, she does not deserve you," said Maedhros firmly. "I believe your brother was right to make that choice, though he ought to have asked you first; putting up with suitors is exhausting."

"Not all of them were quite so annoying as all that," said Elrond. "But now that I have met Celebrían, I wonder how I ever could have thought that one of them might one day be my spouse, should I wish for one. I did not wish for one then."

"Do not worry, little star," said Maglor. "We shall be perfectly welcoming if you bring her to visit. Your lady will not be scared off."

Chapter 30: Chilled Her Heart

Chapter Text

"She awoke feeling warm inside and out, her husband's arms wrapped around her to ward off the winter chill. The windows were frosted over in intricate patterns, as if trying to form a picture, and snow fell softly outside.

She sighed quietly in contentment, burrowing under the covers closer to her husband, and rested her head near to his chest to hear his heartbeat. A sense of peace washed over her, sweet and safe, as the solstice songs of the Fair Folk drifted up from the courtyard outside and a low vibration let her know that her husband was humming quietly along. The edges of their souls mingled comfortably.

Oh.

Oh.

'I love thee,' she murmured in wonder.

How had this come to pass? How had she fallen in love with a husband she had not chosen; how had romance blossomed from the tree of duty?

But she knew the answer; she had always been in possession of it, but only now had it become clear what it was the answer to.

(The gentleness, the way he smiled at her when he thought she could not see, the flowers he had planted for her in the gardens, the comforting clasping of hands, each and every kiss they had shared--

How could she love him? No.

How could she not?)

Her husband pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she looked up at him to see the smile that was only for her. 'I love thee as well, my lady wife.' Their lips met in a kiss, as soft and loving and breath-stealing as ever, and when he pulled away, he whispered, 'O, how I have waited!'

Waited? But they had only been married for such a short time! It almost felt unseemly for her to have fallen in love so quickly! She shifted in the bed, disentangling herself from his embrace and propping herself up.

'My lord husband,' she said, 'it has been hardly any time since we were first betrothed by the deal, and even less since we wed; how is it that thou hast waited?'

'I have desired thee since first we met,' said he. 'From the start I knew I must take thee as my queen and bring thee to Faerie. What else could I have asked for but thy hand?'

The warmth within her turned to ice, colder even than the snowfall outside."

"I brought you a book," said Gil-Galad. "The author seems to have no other works, but I thought it might interest you."

Elrond took the book eagerly. "A new romance novel? Thank you!"

"Save your thanks until after you have read the summary."

Elrond read it. "Wait a moment," he said, "this is--"

Gil-Galad grinned. "'Bride of the Fairy King,' a story of an elf-maid marrying a dashing and mildly villainous fae. Enjoy!"

"How am I supposed to enjoy this?" Elrond cried.

"You love romance novels!"

"Not this, though! Why would you even tell me it exists!"

Gil-Galad rolled his eyes. "Because the writing style is engaging, and you can distract yourself from your crush by reading. Live vicariously through the hero."

"First that damned ballad, and now this," Elrond grumbled. "Fine, I will read it, and I shall throw it at your head when I am done. Count yourself lucky it is bound only in paper."

"So, how many times have you read the book?" said Gil-Galad, grinning smugly.

"Eight," said Elrond with a glare. "Shut up."

"Can I trouble you for your thoughts on it?"

Elrond buried his face in the book, and eight pink flowers bloomed around his head. "Absolutely not."

"That good, really? The author is unknown, since they are using a pen name, but there is a place to drop off letters for them. I would be glad to carry one for you."

Elrond's gaze shifted to the side, still hiding most of his face with the novel. "I would appreciate that."

"Dear Arteithor,

I greatly enjoyed your novel, 'Bride of the Fairy King.' It was given to me by my brother, who judged it to be perfectly suited to my tastes, and he was correct.

Your descriptions of Faerie are beautiful, and quite accurate if it is Imladris you mean to parallel, for I have visited that realm and it is much as you say.

The heroine you have written is compelling; I love her determination and how naturally she becomes the Fairy Queen despite her reservations about the situation. The hero, while his actions are of course reprehensible (putting her in such a position, to marry or to fail her people!), is a wonderful character in his own right, and his devotion to his lady is apparent in every sentence, even before she herself has noticed his love. I found myself entirely captivated by their romance.

I have read through this book eight times as of writing this letter, and I do not doubt I shall read it again in the future. I hope, if I continue to notice new details that I love, you will not feel bothered should I write further letters.

If you plan to write more novels, rest assured I shall be reading them.

Signed,

An Admirer."

Celebrían clutched the letter to her chest and fought the urge to squeal. Such a kind reception for such a self-indulgent novel! She had received a number of positive reviews for it, but this was her favorite.

(Though perhaps she should be less accurate as to the descriptions of Faerie, for though many elves had been to Imladris or a few of the less elven courts, it still might narrow down the possibilities of her identity.)

She hoped this admirer would appreciate her next romance, too. She wished she could ask them what they thought of her regular works, but replying was hardly an option when both she and they were anonymous, and she would not reveal her identity for the sake of self-promotion in any case. If anyone found out (if Elrond found out) what she was writing, she would be mortified.

"I see you have new books," said Celebrían, her arm in Elrond's as they walked through the library.

He regretted his choice to turn his hair a shade of pale ocean blue, a strange sort of blush crept up it, turning it sunrise-color when he saw to which books she gestured.

"Ah, the romance novels. Gil-Galad brings them for me when he visits, which is kind of him, since I cannot leave to get my own," he said, hoping she had not seen those stories in the fae subgenre. What if she thought he would behave in such a way? He would simply die!

"Which are your favorites?"

He glanced away, unwilling to lie but equally unwilling to look at her as he said it. "I have very much been enjoying the works of Arteithor recently, though I suppose it is strange for one who lives in Faerie to read such things."

"I see! I have read them too, and I do find their premises intriguing. Do you have any favorites among them?"

Her smile was so distracting he could barely think. "I think the one about the sheltered youth and the pirate queen is one of those I have reread the most, but the latest book threatens to overtake it. A young lady nearly drowns, but is saved by a river-maiden, who weds her."

"Goodness, have you really read all of them?" She looked somewhere between impressed and scandalized.

"Certainly!" said Elrond. "I love romances, and these are some of the best I have read, and anyway Gil-Galad never misses an opportunity to give me the latest one."

"Perhaps I should reread a few myself, and we may discuss them together," said Celebrían.

"I would like that very much."

They continued their walk, arm in arm, footsteps drifting closer together towards an embrace.

Chapter 31: Her Lover to Embrace

Chapter Text

"Where are you going?" said Galadriel. Her daughter had been absent from Lindórinand far too often of late.

"To Imladris again," said Celebrían. "You know that; Elrond and I are practically courting at this point."

And therein lay the problem, in Galadriel's opinion. Elrond was nice enough, but could she really approve of her daughter being with a Fëanorian? The fact that he was fae and possibly being held against his will were non-issues in her mind; she had been called fae before by Men in awe of her power, and Elrond was clearly spoiled and doted on by Maedhros and Maglor. "Have you figured out exactly what is going on over there yet? And I certainly hope you have not been so foolish as to give your paramour your name."

Celebrían said, "I have made some progress, yes. I have not told him my full name, I do have some sense, thank you."

"Good. Do be careful, dear, and give my cousins my regards."

"By which you mean 'threaten them lightly for me.'"

"Exactly."

The borders of Imladris were less heavily enchanted now than they once were, only one full barrier standing between it and the outside world. The Fair Folk had marked the edge of Faerie with the standing stones, and a barrier stood with them, and Imladris proper lay through hidden paths among the rocks and rivers.

Celebrían walked now without fear into Faerie, for Elrond had extended her a standing invitation to visit, and his fathers had somehow been convinced to approve.

(Privately, she suspected that Elrond had simply fixed them with a wide-eyed pitiful look and said please and they had crumpled like wet paper.)

The moment she passed the stone ring, he came to her, appearing as if having coalesced from the early morning mists, steps silent on the dewy grass and the train of his golden gown trailing behind him, the only sound her quickened breath and the light jingle of his jewels and ornaments clinking together.

He stopped, just before he could touch her, remaining only a whisper away, as if unsure whether he should take the final step and place his hands in hers. She reached out to close the distance, marveling at the beauty of the one she loved so carefully bedecked in all his faery finery, and took his hands, kissing him on the cheek in greeting.

"Greetings," she said. "How fare you?" Was all this loveliness for her? Had he ornamented himself so with her in mind? She felt she might faint if it were, knowing he thought of her when she was gone, knowing he wanted her to find him beautiful.

"Better and better, now that you are here! Will you join me for breakfast, as my guest?" The hope in his eyes outshone the sun.

"I would," she said, and took his arm. "Now tell me, what news? How go things in Númenor? From what I hear, you just visited."

"My nephew Tar-Atanamir has taken up kingship, and most things proceed well enough, I think." He pressed his lips together. "I dislike his ways, but he is loath to listen to one he considers enchanted, family or not. I have half a mind to do something drastic about his hubris, but that would be awfully fae of me."

"Let me know if you do; I would like to see that," she said. She did not say, I find it very attractive when you make your power known, please do so more often, but thought it loudly enough that it would be possible for him to hear.

And, sure enough, his ever-present glow, normally neutral in tone, turned rosy. "How could I deny my lady's request? You shall be among the first to know, if I am driven to such measures by the behavior of my kinfolk." He led her through the secret ways to Imladris, fairy fire lighting the stone passages he so favored. "And what news from east of the Misty Mountains? My birds have been singularly unhelpful."

"Would these be the birds that practically moved into Lindórinand and put flowers on my windowsill, day in and day out? If so, I can easily believe that they brought you no news." It had been strange, all the nightingales bringing her flowers, but she doubted he had asked them to.

Sure enough, he shook his head, exasperated. "Blatant favoritism! They have chosen another to follow, it seems, and will not heed me." He smiled, though, as he spoke.

"There is not much news I can tell you that would be of interest, save that my parents shall be moving to Belfalas," said Celebrían, "and they wish for me to join them, or at least to see them regularly. But since I am so often needed in Lindon..."

"The places you wish to be are all far apart," said Elrond, nodding. "Very far indeed, in the case of Belfalas. And here I thought myself torn, between Imladris and Lindon, and Númenor too! How do you think you shall manage it?"

She sighed. "I do not wish to spend all the year traveling, so it seems my visits to each place must be longer and less frequent. I do hope High King Gil-Galad will be able to manage with neither of us there to help him."

"There is no need to worry about that; he still makes me do paperwork for him, no matter that I live hundreds of miles away! Ah, I think I see now why the birds prefer to flock to you; they would rather bring you flowers than carry so many messages so far."

"They shall not have far to go at all, when I am here," she said. "And as I said, I think I shall be staying longer. At least your fathers have stopped with the endless chaperones."

Elrond winced. "They have not. They have simply asked the chaperones to be more subtle; there are at least three people watching over us at this very moment. My apologies."

"I suppose I should not be surprised," she said with a dramatic sigh. "I am, of course, a vile seducer trying to corrupt their son."

"Have you not heard? I am incorruptible, they say, since I have lived most of my life with kinslayers and have shown no murderous inclination at all."

"There go my dastardly plans of stealing your heart and then yourself, ruining your reputation in the process."

He laughed, but she caught his hesitance in it.

Oh. Oh.

Perhaps she had hit the mark closer than intended, and as she had dreamed and written of him stealing her away, he had wished for the same in reverse. He did read her books, after all; it was not impossible.

(No, she had to be reading too much into this.)

She coughed and tried again. "Not that those plans would work anyway, when you have been so strongly forbidden from courtship and marriage, even if you seem to be disinclined to listen; your fathers would take great offense to anyone who tried."

If anything, he became more awkward. "About that, actually. It would be better said that I am forbidden from marrying anyone who is deterred by the ban. My parents, all of them, agree that if someone changes their mind knowing that winning my hand is impossible and dangerous, they are not good enough." As if to change the subject, he said, "Your room is the same as always, but I had to shift a few hallways around in the palace, so let me know if you have trouble finding it. I will find us something to eat, and meet you in the courtyard at ten." It did not escape her that the sudden switch into his role as host came as they entered the main area of the settlement, where many more than three people might overhear.

"That sounds lovely," she said, going along with the change in topic and trying to ignore the fact that he had practically told her that they could court officially.

(They did not unlink arms.)

Chapter 32: The Elf-Prince Raged

Chapter Text

The third release of Elrond Peredhel from Faerie was not precisely a release.

By the time his deal was finished, it was generally understood that he was quite happy in Imladris with his captors (few could stomach calling them his fathers yet), and that he was a prince of that realm with responsibilities. Therefore, he would be allowed to roam Middle-Earth at his will, so long as he always returned home to see to his duties.

This news was met with, rather than the joyous celebration of the previous release, nods of understanding and general approval of Elrond's practical decision to be a responsible leader. And, since many elves had visited Imladris and found it welcoming and pleasant, they feared for him little, and understood that the Fair Folk had no ill will towards the elves. The Fairy Kings did not leave their abode save to visit Númenor (though it was said the voice of King Maglor was heard upon the seas and shores, leading sailors to their deaths), so Elrond and others of the Court were their emissaries in the wide world, and Gil-Galad and his vassals went regularly to Imladris.

Celeborn and Galadriel, though, along with many elves, were wary of the courtship of Celebrían with Elrond, fearing enchantment. Perhaps not enchantment from Elrond himself, but his interest in her was obvious, as was the propensity of Maedhros and Maglor to give him anything he wished, so many held it to be possible that they had placed a spell encouraging her to reciprocate his affection.

Galadriel set most minds at rest quickly enough; there were no spells that she or Celebrían herself had not placed, and she had only very briefly worried that her cousins (and they still were her cousins, no matter how much they had changed) would stoop to such a level, but the rumors continued for a time, making their way into the realms of Men even when the elves had abandoned the idea.

Even as the hearts of the Men of Númenor turned against the elves and the fae, they could not ban the folk of Imladris from their regular visits, knowing that such insult would not be taken lightly, and discourtesy to the brother of Tar-Minyatur was of course out of the question. When the elven tongues were banned from the island, the King's Men were dismayed to find that Elrond's grasp of Adûnaic was fluent and poetic, and often vastly more eloquent than theirs, for he had embraced the language of his brother's people out of love, and would not suffer himself to be less than perfect at it. But even Elrond himself was disallowed from the isle when Ar-Pharazôn became king (though this rarely stopped him from visiting, what with his ability to fly), and his counsel was ignored and called a fairy trick.

Upon his last and most bitter departure from Númenor, he cried to the king in anger, "If you will let your pride and greed master you, do not be surprised when you are given that which you seek! If ever you gain immortality you shall regret it, O golden king. To have to watch as you run headlong into ruin, I very nearly regret mine! You are unwelcome in the house of my fathers, your own grandfathers, and nowhere in Middle-Earth may you find sanctuary again, for my welcome is the welcome of all on the Hither Shores."

He raised his hands. "And if you are so determined to reject the friendship of the elves and of the fae, so determined to disrespect the Choice of Tar-Minyatur my brother and your forefather, then I shall count my gifts to you rescinded." And with that, he brought his hands down in a swift gesture, and the golden palace crumbled, and thus followed every structure he had built.

Then, head held high, he departed the ruin of Armenelos, returning to Middle-Earth and informing all that Ar-Pharazôn was under his curse and not to be welcomed anywhere.

"Flee, flee!" cried Elendil as the isle of Númenor shook. "To the shores of Middle-Earth we must go, if the judgement of Eru be not upon us as well!" If only Ar-Pharazôn had listened! But there was no time now; he must save whoever might be saved, and hope that the seas would grant mercy.

Every child that could be found had been brought to a ship, for he wished to see no innocent meet their death, and it was easier than it ought to have been. The youths spoke confusedly of a music that lured them to the harbor, and there were few children in Númenor in those days, for many feared to be caught in the wrath of a fae and had left to go to Middle-Earth after Armenelos crumbled, and others felt that there would be time for such things after attaining immortality.

But in the waves and the storm, Elendil found himself separated from the ships of his sons, and feared the worst. He could not waste time looking for them, when the ships with him carried so many, so he sailed northwards, intending to beg asylum from High King Gil-Galad.

To his surprise, the Fairy Kings met him at the shore and bade him welcome.

"So where are we now?" said Isildur, pushing his wet hair from his face. "If Father lives, he is sundered from us, and as you know I am no mariner."

"You must focus on keeping that seedling alive, and allow me to see to navigation," said Anárion, much more at ease than their elder brother. "We are at the Mouths of Anduin. We are near enough to Pelargir, where the Faithful of Middle-Earth dwell, that they may give us shelter. We shall--" They stopped.

A familiar figure stood just past the sands, seeming to have been there all along.

Elrond smiled and opened his arms. "Welcome to Middle-Earth, my dear kinfolk."

Isildur recovered from his surprise first. "Greetings, Prince Elrond. I assume you have heard the news?"

"I have indeed, or did no one wonder on the ease with which the children of Númenorë came to the ships? The rest of the youths shall come here in the next days; the mermaids shall see to it." When they were silent, he smiled. "I would never let you be abandoned."

"We thank you," said Anárion. "Have you any idea where our father and his people may be?"

"Safe in Lindon," said Elrond, "and worried about you. Come; Pelargir shall welcome you and your people, and I daresay that somewhere further north along the river there may be a place for that seedling you rescued."

And so did the survivors of Númenor found the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor in Middle-Earth, though some of the folk of Arnor were wary of living so close to Imladris where the Court lay. The Fair Folk were only helpful, though; aiding the Númenóreans in building new lives in Middle-Earth and asking only for little in return, for Elrond had declared that this was no gift nor favor, only hospitality towards his kinfolk who had come to him for aid and lived now near to his home.

But in time Sauron returned to Mordor and returned to his attempts to destroy or control all of Middle-Earth, and Minas Ithil was taken by him, and he burned the White Tree. But once again Isildur escaped with a seedling, that the Tree might be restored, and Anárion defended Osgiliath and Minas Anor with all their might.

The very next year, it was determined that an Alliance must be formed among the Free Peoples to deal with the threat of Sauron, and the elves and Men gathered together to take counsel, hoping that this would come to a better end than the last great alliance against the Shadow. But they could not win alone, they knew, not against all the might of Sauron, which they guessed to be much greater than he had revealed.

They set off for Imladris to ask the Court to join them.

Chapter 33: Elfin Grey

Chapter Text

The Last Alliance was permitted into the realm of Imladris, but not into the main valley, not yet. They waited outside for some kind of sign or messenger, everyone being warned to give no insult nor eat anything not declared to be safe.

In time, Elrond came to them, overjoyed to see his brother and his lady once more, and his kinsmen of Gondor and Arnor as well. "Welcome to Imladris," he said, arms spread wide. "You are all quite welcome to stay here in the outskirts, but eat nothing that grows here. Do not enter the Court without invitation -- but I have been asked to invite High King Gil-Galad and High King Elendil to dinner tonight in the palace, where a deal may be made."

"My thanks," said Gil-Galad, "and my regards to the Fairy Kings. Would you permit more guests? For I would have accompany me the Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, and Lady Celebrían, and Lord Círdan as well, and I doubt High King Elendil would wish to be separated from his children."

"Of course we shall, they are all most welcome," said Elrond. "I shall return to fetch you after nightfall."

The Men were hesitant to set up camp, even at the outermost edge of Faerie, but Gil-Galad assured them that it was permitted, as it had been permitted for his own people many centuries ago as they fled Eregion.

Celebrían, the moment she could tell there was no one watching, ran from the encampment to the place where she and Elrond always met, and the same thought must have occurred to him, for he waited there already with open arms.

She flung herself into his embrace. "My love!" she cried. "It has been far too long since last I saw your face."

"I have missed you as well," said Elrond. "No amount of letters could possibly match the sweet sound of your voice!"

They passed a few pleasant hours there, telling each other all the news they had, sitting comfortably wrapped up in one another.

"We have been preparing for war, of course, ever since Sauron returned to menacing Middle-Earth," Elrond said. "He must be stopped, and revenge must be taken; I cannot let him do such evil and go unpunished, even if he had not destroyed my brother's kingdom."

"I will protect you," said Celebrían, squeezing his hand. She knew he needed no protecting, but had found that it comforted him to know himself watched over, and so reminded him of it whenever danger came near.

He squeezed her hand in return, silent.

After a time listening to the rushing river and singing birds, Elrond spoke up, almost inaudible. "I was thinking," he said, then stopped.

Celebrían turned to look at him directly. "What is it?"

"If -- I know this is not set in stone, and much may befall us and those we love in the coming war, but if we survive -- would you marry me?"

It was as if the world slowed down, almost to a halt, as he spoke those words. The spaces between breaths could be measured in centuries, the starlight of the early evening fell about them like a soft rain, and in the dreamlike moment she took his hands and said, "Yes! A thousand times yes, my love; if we should live then I shall marry you."

He laughed, the sound like bells, and kissed her. "How are we to explain this to the Men? I do not doubt you have an idea already."

"You are correct. I believe the plot of my first romance novel may be just what we need..."

Elendil had come to Faerie once before, and only once.

When he had first founded Arnor, he had thought it prudent to go, and to form a friendship with the Court, to assure the Fair Folk that they were not encroached upon, and in the hopes that they would not steal his people, or at least not many. His time within had seemed almost a dream, afterwards, but he remembered that the Fairy Kings had welcomed him and called him kinsman, and assured him that Imladris would be a friend to Arnor, and to Gondor as well.

Stranger than Faerie itself had been his thoughts of the place: this was where Tar-Minyatur had been held for many years, before Tar-Loþetári rescued him, and such an odd connection between Imladris and himself threw him off balance. It was hard to imagine why Tar-Minyatur had ever left, when he could have remained with his brother and been a prince of this impossibly perfect land. The trees he had planted still grew here, tended with devotion by Prince Elrond, who Isildur said had aided him in finding a home for the White Tree.

He did not doubt that the fae would aid this Last Alliance, for they hated Sauron as much as the other peoples of Middle-Earth did, but there remained the question of the cost. What might they ask for in return? Elendil did not know, and this worried him. He might well have to accept a deal he could not afford for the sake of ending the threat of Sauron; the fae must know already of the desperate situation, and he would be a fool to think they would not take advantage of it.

When Prince Elrond came to fetch him, looking suspiciously happy, he feared the worst.

He, along with his children and Gil-Galad's group, were into the Court and to the palace, where the Fairy Kings awaited them in forms too splendid and terrible to describe, and Elrond announced the visitors before joining his fathers on the dais.

"Welcome, all of you," said King Maedhros. "It is our honor to have you here, and our joy to aid you against the Enemy, whom we all abhor. But there must be a deal made, for the Fair Folk do not give assistance lightly."

Elendil tried to breathe steadily.

King Maglor spoke then, his voice strong and carrying. "Therefore we ask, in exchange for our might added to yours against the Enemy, that the hand in marriage of Lady Celebrían be given to our son Elrond."

Rather than the shouts of refusal that Elendil expected, the elves were silent.

Then there stepped forward a lady with shining silver hair, who must be Celebrían, and she said, "I am honored by his highness's choice. Might I have the details of this arrangement, that I may know better what is to be expected of such a union?"

"Certainly," said Maedhros. "The two of you shall be betrothed, once a detailed contract is made, and neither shall be permitted to court or wed another during this period. If circ*mstances permit, you must marry within a century and a half of the defeat of Sauron, if he should be defeated. If the conflict drags, or we should fail, the wedding date may be renegotiated. My brother and I plan, after this war, to abdicate, and therefore you shall abide in Imladris and rule as its queen. The rest shall be decided between you."

It was... not unreasonable, for a diplomatic marriage, but this did not seem entirely diplomatic in nature, judging from the expression on Prince Elrond's face -- he must already have loved her, and taken this chance to press the matter. A glance to his companions revealed that most had come to the same conclusion.

Celebrían tilted her chin up. "I accept." Her parents rushed forward to grab her hands, but she took no notice of them.

And yet, after the throne room rearranged itself into a banquet hall and Lady Celebrían went to sit by her new betrothed, Elendil noticed an ease in her that he had not expected. She did not seem to flinch away from the brush of Elrond's hand against hers, and when they settled into dinner, she even leaned towards him.

Ah.

Already lovers, then, possibly in secret, using the existing necessity of a deal to arrange their happiness.

Elendil hid a smile behind his cup of tea. He would tell no one; if they wished to keep their previous entanglement unknown, he would oblige.

Soon enough the Fair Folk readied themselves for war in shining and unearthly armor, their blades keener than sight. There were many among the folk of Arnor and Gondor who believed this aid too dearly bought, giving up the future of a fair maiden who did not love the one she was required to marry, but few felt safe in voicing these opinions, not in Imladris nor anywhere else where the fae might hear.

Within a decade, Sauron was defeated, at great cost. Gil-Galad was sorely wounded in the battle, but the Fairy Kings saved him and brought him to safety, and he did not leave Faerie again.

Chapter 34: I'll Your Husband Be

Chapter Text

Celebrían was kidnapped no less than three times before her wedding.

True, most of the people involved fully thought they were rescuing her from a terrible fate, but after the first time it rather lost its charm.

("I see what you mean about the pity," she said to Elrond after the second attempt. "I know I am perfectly fine, but they all refuse to stop with their overblown sorrow.")

The only redeeming factor was this: that each time, her dear betrothed would arrive to bring her home, beautiful and terrifying in his facade of protective rage (which by the third attempt was less false than it had been), and remind those who had taken her of the deal that had been made, which they had had no part in and thus had no place in breaking.

Seeing Elrond that way was very nearly worth the hassle of kidnapping.

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear in Imladris, where the ceremony would be held, and Elrond could barely keep himself anchored to the ground. Today he would marry the one he loved, and they would begin their lives together -- he could hardly believe it had been eighteen centuries since they had met! It seemed to be only a moment, and at once many more years, and once again he marveled at the gift of immortality that he had chosen, that he would have eternity with his beloved Celebrían.

His fathers valiantly attempted to hold back tears as they helped him into his wedding dress (silk of blue and purple, embroidered in gold and silver), then sat him down to brush and braid his hair, bedecking him in every piece of finery that would fit. Gil-Galad, too, was there, squeezing his brother's hands.

"I am so happy for you," said Gil-Galad.

Maglor sniffled. "You two will be so good together. You bring out the best in each other, and I could not be happier or more proud."

"Thank you, Atto," said Elrond, smiling and trying to calm himself. "Are you almost done with the hair ornaments?"

"Not at all," said Maedhros. "You need as many of them as we can give you. It is your wedding, after all." This was a reasonable explanation; the Noldor took adornment to be a serious thing, especially that of children by their parents, and even more so on occasions of such significance. If Elrond were not covered in jewelry of every kind for his wedding, it would be a failure on the part of his fathers.

Elrond relaxed into their ministrations and allowed himself to be decorated (as he had oft been before, though not to such degree), doing as best he could to forget his nerves.

Celebrían paced back and forth as Galadriel watched her with a raised eyebrow and Celeborn continued his attempts to style her hair.

"But what if I make a fool of myself?" Celebrían cried. "What if I trip and fall in front of everyone? What if I recite the vows wrong? What if one of the wedding rings is secretly cursed?"

"Calm down, dear," said Galadriel. "I highly doubt the rings have been cursed since you last saw them, and anything else will be no problem at all. Elrond will hardly mind."

"Please stop walking, sweetheart," said Celeborn. "Let me get your hair out of your way."

Celebrían obediently stopped and sat down, worrying at the sleeves of her white and lavender gown.

"Everything is going to be wonderful, even if it is not strictly perfect," said Celeborn. "You would hardly be considering tying your soul to one who would falter in his love for you because of such small mishaps."

"And everyone is going to be on their best behavior," said Galadriel, "but if his fathers break the agreement of politeness first, I am within my rights to retaliate."

"Please do not cause a scene," Celebrían pleaded.

Galadriel waved a hand. "Nonsense. If anyone causes a scene, it will be one of the kings of Gondor or Arnor, and they are easily intimidated into silence."

"I sincerely hope my soon-to-be nephews-in-law will have more sense than that."

"Perhaps I should begin to act fae," said Galadriel. "Perhaps we elves all should. We cannot let my cousins have all the fun."

Celebrían could imagine this all too well, and so, it seemed, could Celeborn. He said, "That may be a rather drastic step, my love, but it might prove interesting. A gradual change would be preferable. I do not know if it would catch on."

"It might," said Celebrían. "Thranduil seems to greatly appreciate the aesthetic, as do his people."

She managed to forget her worry.

They came to each other at last in the grandest pavilion in Imladris, chosen to fit as many of their well-wishers as possible, and for a moment both forgot how to breathe, so stunned were they each by their betrothed.

The event had been scheduled thus:

First would be the taking of hands and exchanging of rings, and then festivities in the afternoon, leading into the ceremony of vows and blessings at twilight (for all important things involving Elrond were required to take place when Gil-Estel was visible, so as to have his mother and father present in some way). At this juncture would they share their true-names with one another, a fabricated tradition that both embraced wholeheartedly. After the ceremony would come the wedding feast, and then the newlyweds would retire to seal their union and form their marriage-bond.

Neither of the rings were cursed, or indeed enchanted at all (most ringmakers having learned from experience), unlike the rest of the jewelry the two wore, and most unlike Vilya, which Elrond now wore without fear of the One Ring corrupting it, and the afternoon passed by pleasantly.

Soon, once the blessings were said by their parents, it came time to speak their wedding vows, the only sort of oath either of them were willing to make.

"I take you as my spouse in the sight of Eru Ilúvatar, and vow to be your partner in all things, for all the Ages of Arda," said Celebrían. "May our souls be as one."

"I take you as my spouse in the sight of Eru Ilúvatar, and vow to be your partner in all things, for all the Ages of Arda. May our souls be as one." Elrond amazed himself by not stammering at all.

They leaned in close to one another and whispered their full names to one another, then pulled away, smiling even as their assembled parents cried tears of overwhelming emotion.

Maedhros and those fae he shared the kitchens with had outdone themselves for the wedding feast (nothing was too good for Elrond, in their opinion): fresh fruits from the gardens and orchards, some carved into impossibly intricate patterns, roasted vegetables of all sorts and all seasons, no less than three soups, countless filled and flavored breads of fantastical shapes, pastries sweet and savory, a painstakingly prepared roast, candies cunningly made to look like jewels, and at last the dessert, a giant sculpture of the couple, which dissolved into glittering air and appeared again on the plates of the guests. The rest of the dishes lay on platters floating about the room, and not a single thing served was less than perfect.

Celebrían and Elrond danced together after the feast, to the music of Maglor's harp of bone, and the rest of the faery orchestra he had trained over the past millennia in Imladris, and as the music swelled, their feet left the floor, dresses no longer brushing the ground but suspended in air, and they waltzed off into the air and to the rooms they would share from this day on.

The room was warm and quiet, and they settled on the couch, both pushing down their nerves.

With trembling hands they unbound each other's complex hairstyles, and Elrond took a deep breath, his hand clutching an ivory-inlaid comb as if it were a lifeline. "Would you braid my hair?" he asked, holding the comb out to her hesitantly.

Celebrían grinned. "Eventually. I have a few ideas of what we can do first."

Chapter 35: Hold Me Fast

Chapter Text

It was a well-known tradition in Arnor that the godparents of the royal family must be the King and Queen of Imladris. They gave gifts and blessings to the children, and no one wanted to risk their displeasure by snubbing them.

The people of Arnor feared the Fair Folk, but knew that in a general sense they were allies, and many of them visited Faerie, most of them even returning safely.

It was the other Courts that were worrying.

Greenwood the Great had lost its king in the fight against Sauron, but King Thranduil ruled over the forest and, it was rumored, led the Wild Hunt, and Amroth of Lórinand -- well, the land was called Laurelindórenand for a reason. Just as he sang golden autumn into the mallorn trees, those who displeased him were turned to golden statues by the power of his song. Círdan of the Havens was less outwardly menacing, but any shipwright who so commanded the mists and waters and built ships to carry elves to another world was to be feared.

"Is this our little sister?" said Elrohir, looking down at the baby bundled up in cloth.

"Yes," said Celebrían. "Her name is Arwen. Do you want to hold her?" The twins nodded, and she handed little Arwen to them. "Take turns, please."

"Is she going to have other names, too?" Elladan asked.

Elrond nodded. "She will. Her other name is Undómiel, to match her cousin Tindómiel."

Elrohir brought Arwen up to his face to touch noses. "How can she possibly be so perfect?"

"We asked ourselves that when you two were born, too," said Celebrían. "I think it is simply that we are the luckiest parents in the world."

"And Arwen is lucky to have such wonderful brothers as you," said Elrond, giving them each a kiss on the head.

At this time, the door opened to admit the rest of the family, Galadriel and Celeborn with Gil-Galad just behind them and Maedhros and Maglor after, all five clearly having been jostling for position to see the new baby first.

"Where is she? Let me see," said Galadriel. Elladan reluctantly handed her over, and Galadriel's breath left all in a rush. "Hello, dearest," she murmured. "My little princess, you are simply the sweetest child I have ever seen! Except maybe your brothers," she added when the twins looked at her plaintively.

Arwen blinked open her grey eyes, which glowed with faery light, and looked up at her grandmother curiously. Galadriel smiled, and the world stood still for a blissful moment.

And then, of course, Maedhros ruined it by saying it was his turn to hold the baby.

Arwen and her brothers grew up to be fine fairy children, often accompanied by the latest stolen child their family had taken from an unpleasant situation.

To the dismay of her grandmother, Arwen took up smithcraft alongside her interest in the arts of the needle, but showed no sign of any curse, nor dangerous levels of hubris. An unfortunate number of people tended to fall in love with her, and claimed either enchantment or True Love, but other than the one time (which was an accident) both always proved untrue. Elladan and Elrohir became great craftsmen as well, and frequently came to Arwen's rescue to get her out of trouble, for she was more fae than they, and could hardly help getting up to mischief, at least for her first few centuries.

The Shadow began to creep over Middle-Earth once more, but the Fairy Courts remained unbowed and unconquered, standing always against Sauron, though among Men they were seen only as a lesser evil.

Nonetheless, as times became more difficult and Arnor fell, the Dúnedain became friends of the Fair Folk of Rivendell, and allowed them to (temporarily, mind you) steal away their heirs to be fostered at the Court, where they were raised with love. This gave them a fell reputation, the title elf-friend being one viewed with fear and pity both, for surely its bearers were enchanted, but they did the bidding of the Fae.

Hobbits, of course, had a healthy distrust of the Fair Folk, but found them marvelous strange, and it was rumored that the Tooks were descended from one, which the Shire as a whole held as the reason for their strangeness. Rarely did elves pass by the Shire, but no hobbit would refuse to extend hospitality to any stranger, elf or not, and no angry fairy ever cursed a hobbit for that sort of rudeness, or at least so said the boastful rumors.

The only fae that came by regularly was the wandering one, Gandalf, who seemed oddly fascinated with hobbits, content to sit in on festivals and entertain the children. He was somewhat trusted by dwarves, too, despite their general enmity with the fae, for he had over time proved himself to be unmalicious, though as inscrutable and odd as all his folk. Trusted enough to advise dwarves and Men, even regarded warily as he was, for his counsel was sound and reliable, as the many records of him over the centuries revealed.

Belladonna Took, of course, was a little bit fey as all the Tooks were, rumored to be descended from a fae, and saw no danger in allowing herself to be led away from the Shire by Gandalf, and she returned home with an armful of strange gifts and tales of Faerie on her lips. These stories she told to her son Bilbo, and he too was whisked away by the Fair Folk on a grand adventure. When Bilbo came home, he bore countless treasures both dwarven and fae, among them a blade forged by the infamous fae sorcerer of Gondolin and a mithril shirt bearing the mark of the Ringmaker.

(They said, though, that he was never the same after Rivendell, after its Queen and King welcomed him to their table and he ate of their food. Perhaps that was why he left the Shire, in the end, to return.)

When Frodo went on his own adventure with his dearest companions, and they saved Middle-Earth from the worst of all the fae -- ah, but that is another tale!