Erestor stared in disbelief as Glorfindel threw his things into a bag, not even taking the time to fold his clothes.

"What does it look like, Erestor?" Glorfindel replied angrily. "I am leaving."

"Why?"

Now it was Glorfindel's turn to look shocked, his eyes opening wide.

"I cannot believe you have the nerve to ask that! But if I must tell you again... I am tired. I am tired of your jealousy and your distrust. I am tired of you trying to dictate where I go and who I see. I am tired of you picking fights for no reason. Generally, Erestor, I am tired of you."

"How dare you!" Erestor spluttered. "I have been so good to you! Why, when you returned..."

"When I returned," Glorfindel interrupted, "you took me in and cared for me. I thought you loved me. But now I come to see that all you wanted was to claim the Balrog-Slayer as your own."

To this Erestor could not reply, instead staring inelegantly with his mouth open.

Glorfindel shook his head in disgust, shoving the last few items into his bag before tying it up and slinging it over his shoulder. He didn't speak as he headed for the door.

"That... that is not true," Erestor cried to the retreating form of his lover. "I do love you!"

At the door, Glorfindel turned back for a moment.

"Then all I can say is that you have an interesting way of showing it," he replied, and then left, closing the door behind him.

*****************

He went straight to Elrond's office, feeling bad for troubling him with this but knowing it was necessary. After all, he would need a room of his own now, something that he had given up when he had started his relationship with Erestor.

At the call to enter he stepped in, holding his bag tightly. His face wore a troubled expression that he could not hide.

Elrond took one look at Glorfindel and knew what has occurred. He and Erestor had been on shaky ground for a while and he had guessed it would not be long until things came to a head. Quickly he reached for some wine, pouring Glorfindel a large glass.

"Come and sit, my friend," he said, moving over to the long sofa and handing Glorfindel the glass.

Taking the wine, Glorfindel sat, staring into the glass. "My Lord, I... I need a room," he said quietly.

The Lord of Imladris looked at him and sighed softly. "So it has finally ended, has it, my friend?” he asked gently.

Glorfindel nodded, still not meeting his eyes. It was hard; he had loved Erestor but had felt trapped in their relationship, like he was living in a debt unpaid. That day, things had finally reached the point where he could no longer handle it and he had at last made the decision to leave.

Just from Glorfindel’s demeanour, Elrond could tell that things would not be easy for Glorfindel - and indeed Erestor too - for a while. They had been together for well over a century and the sudden end would considerably disrupt both of their lives as well as those they worked with. For the good of all, Elrond knew that he could not simply give Glorfindel a new room and expect the matter to be closed.

“My friend, I will of course give you a room, but I would ask that you do something for me first,” Elrond told him, placing a hand gently on Glorfindel’s arm.

“What is that, my Lord?” Glorfindel replied, though he could not manage to sound terribly interested.

Elrond smiled and got up, going to his desk and removing a large packet of papers, already bound and sealed. “These need to reach Lord Celeborn; perhaps you could take them for me? They are quite important.”

It was obvious what Elrond was trying to do and Glorfindel was grateful for it. He had dreaded the coming weeks and welcomed the chance to get away and clear his troubled mind.

“Of course my Lord, I will leave immediately.” He paused and grinned ruefully. “After all, I am already packed.”

Elrond smiled, squeezing his friend’s shoulder. “When you return, I will have a room ready for you. But do not hurry – we can do without you for a time.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Glorfindel replied in gratitude as he rose and slipped the papers into his bag.

“Be well, Glorfindel,” Elrond said, watching the golden Elf leave and hoping that he would soon find peace.

*******************

Erestor watched as Glorfindel rode out of Imladris on his way to the Golden Wood. He was shocked; bad enough that his lover had left him, but to leave Imladris as well was just too much! Somehow, he vowed, he’d get Glorfindel back. He had done so much for the reborn Elf and could not believe that he had been repaid with such contempt. Glorfindel was his and he loved him. The Balrog Slayer just didn’t understand that he was only trying to guide him in his new life.

Shaking his head in disappointment at Glorfindel’s behaviour, he returned to his now empty rooms to think.

*******************

The trip to Lothlórien was a long one for Glorfindel. His mind was full of what he had just done – walked away from the only comfort he had known since his rebirth. Yet he had been unable to get the thought from his mind that maybe he had simply been clinging to something that made him feel safe. That he had forgotten how to take risks.

He was glad when he finally reached the borders of the Golden Wood. Here he hoped he would find peace; he had heard many stories of the healing magic of Lothlórien, though he had never before travelled here, life and death interfering in his plans to walk beneath the mallorn trees.

Still, he did not need to have been there before to know that he had been watched even before he crossed the borders. As such, he was not surprised when a sentry dropped down silently in front of him.

“Who wishes to enter the Golden Wood?” the Elf said, looking intently at Glorfindel.

“I am Glorfindel of Imladris,” he replied, “and I bear a message from my Lord to yours.”

The sentry’s eyes opened wide as he recognised the name, but he did not comment.

“Welcome, my Lord,” was all he said. “Please follow me.”

With that, he turned and led Glorfindel along the almost-hidden path, towards the great tree-city of Caras Galadhon.

Glorfindel marvelled at all he saw, the vast, beautiful trees with their silver trunks and golden leaves, the carefully crafted telain throughout nestled within their branches; even the Elves that ran so lightly along the tree-paths were cause for amazement.

“I have never seen the like,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over everything. “Truly it is as beautiful as the legends say – if not more so.”

The sentry smiled – Lórien Elves were proud and loved their land, so to compliment their home was to compliment them. Without even trying, Glorfindel had made a good first impression that would stand him in good stead.

*********

He was led to Caras Galadhon and the great mallorn in which the Lord and Lady lived. As he ascended the long, winding stairs he took advantage of the glorious view of Lothlórien that the extra height afforded. When they came to the top, the Elf stopped and bowed to him.

“Here my duty ends; I must return to the border. Along this corridor the Lord and Lady await you.”

Glorfindel smiled; though the words were formal he could sense the friendliness within the Elf.

“Thank you, my friend, for all you have done,” he replied.

The sentry smiled back and then quickly left, his duty to Glorfindel over, but not his duty to his home.

Glorfindel carried on down the hall, small lanterns lighting his way, for it was dark here, where the branches twisted to form the arched structure above him. Yet before long it lightened again and only grew brighter as he approached a great carved door, with another Elf standing guard outside. Glorfindel felt rather sorry for this young guardian; despite his focused look and stern posture, there was an unmistakable look of boredom in his eyes.

He opened his mouth to introduce himself, but the Elf spoke first.

“The Lord and Lady await you, Lord Glorfindel,” he said as he opened the door. “Please go in.”

More that a little surprised, Glorfindel nodded and stepped into the chamber. So the Lady could read minds after all. He wondered how much she knew about why he was here.

He bowed as he saw them, sitting regally in chairs that seemed to be a part of the same tree. In fact, he realised, everything here seemed to be connected. What power, he thought in awe, that they could command the trees how to grow. Truly, Lothlórien was a place of miracles!

“Welcome, Glorfindel o Imladris,” Galadriel said softly, a small smile playing about her lips. Celeborn had a twinkle in his eyes too, and Glorfindel realised with a sinking feeling that they both knew everything.

“My Lord, my Lady,” he said formally, trying to keep the despair and embarrassment from his voice. It was humiliating, that two such regal Elves knew of the mess he was in.

Sensing his thoughts, Celeborn took pity on him. “Fear not, my friend, we will say nothing. It is simply our wish that you might find peace here. You have been through a difficult time that requires healing.”

At this Glorfindel sighed in relief; it was not something that he wished to be publicly known. Not that he thought the Lord and Lady to be gossips, but it put his mind at ease to know that they would not say anything.

“My thanks,” he replied. “I hope you are right. I am looking forward to seeing more of the Golden Wood.”

“And you shall,” Galadriel said, still smiling. “After you have rested. I have no doubt your journey was tiring. Someone shall show you to a talan – it will be yours for the length of your stay with us.”

Those words were music to Glorfindel’s ears; the telain, though quite open, afforded more privacy than a corridor full of rooms.

“Rúmil!” Celeborn called out, and the Elf from outside the door reappeared. “Please show Lord Glorfindel to one of the guest telain and see that he has all he needs.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Rúmil replied and gestured that Glorfindel should go with him.

Glorfindel bowed again and moved towards the door. Offering a final thanks to the Lord and Lady, he followed Rúmil out.

****************

It had not been noticeable as they descended the stairs, but now that they were on the ground he noticed that all was not well with his companion. The Elf’s gait was stiff and he favoured his right leg. Now Glorfindel understood why he had looked so bored: this was not an Elf accustomed to standing around; this was a wounded warrior, taken from the borders.

“If I may be so bold, might I ask how you became injured, my friend?” he asked, hoping he had not overstepped his bounds. If the injury was not one that would heal, it was possible the Elf may be sensitive about it.

However, he was in luck, for Rúmil laughed lightly. “I am afraid my leg got in the way of an Orc arrow, two moons past. I was ordered to rest for another month before returning to duty, but sitting around at home is not something at which I excel. I suspect Haldir, my elder brother, spoke to Lord Celeborn, for within a day I found myself on guard at the palace. He told me I could do myself no harm, simply by standing there. At first I was pleased, but now I see it was revenge, for even at home I was not so bored!”

Glorfindel chuckled; he could well understand Rúmil’s frustration. Being injured was never easy for a warrior – he knew he had driven Elrond to distraction on the occasions he had been injured. Erestor too, actually… but he didn’t want to think of his ex-lover and so pushed the thought to the back of his mind and concentrated on Rúmil instead.

“I know how you must feel!” he laughed. “At least it is not for too much longer.” He paused, thinking of something else Rúmil had said. “The name Haldir is known to me. Lord Elrond speaks highly of him. Yet I was not aware that he had brothers.”

At this Rúmil nodded, as it was not the first time he had heard this. “Aye, there are three of us in all. Haldir is the eldest, I am in the middle and Orophin is the youngest. Unfortunately, neither Orophin nor I ever learned the common tongue so we rarely leave Lothlórien.” He stopped, shaking his head in amusement. “I think Haldir likes to pretend he is an only child every so often!”

Glorfindel had never known brothers, but he remembered his childhood and how his parents had sometimes made him wish he had been one of the unbegotten Elves. This was most likely not all that different.

“I think I can understand that a little!” he said. “Though I would still like to get to know you all!”

Rúmil was about to tell Glorfindel that he was always welcome to stop at their shared talan, should he wish to, but the words never left his mouth. As it happened they were right by his talan, under which a sleeping Elf lay.

A very attractive sleeping Elf. With a butterfly on his nose.

Rúmil clapped his hand over his mouth in an attempt not to laugh aloud. “Well, you wished to meet him!” he whispered, his shoulders shaking in mirth. “May I introduce my younger brother, Orophin!”

Glorfindel stared and Rúmil coughed quietly, to get Orophin’s attention. At the sound of his brother, the youngest Elf’s eyes re-focused, looking upwards. The first thing he realised was that a butterfly was using his nose as a perch and he smiled, brushing it off. The next thing he noticed was that Rúmil was not alone. He flushed red and jumped to his feet, embarrassed at the position he had been caught in by a stranger.

Chuckling, Rúmil gestured to the new Elf. “Orophin, this is Lord Glorfindel, of Imladris.”

Orophin made a choked sound, but quickly recovered himself and bowed. “It is an honour to meet you, Lord Glorfindel,” he said, his face still flushed. “I, ah, apologise for being so – undignified!”

Glorfindel laughed at the embarrassed Elf, waving the apology off. “Think nothing of it Orophin! You are off-duty, after all, and I’m sure the rest is well deserved.”

“Aye, he has been working very hard,” Rúmil said, smiling at Orophin. “Some of his patrol was also injured and he has been doing extra shifts to help out. This is his first rest in several months.”

“Rúmil!” Orophin hissed, going pink at the praise. Rúmil laughed, enjoying teasing his younger brother just a little too much.

“I am sorry, Orophin,” he chuckled. “I will stop. I must escort Lord Glorfindel to his talan anyway, before returning to duty.” There was a slight hint of pain in his eyes and he was leaning heavily on his left leg. Orophin saw this and he frowned. His brother had walked some distance from the palace already - that could not be good for his injured leg. Stepping forward, he placed his hand on Rúmil’s shoulder.

“Return to the palace, Rúmil, I will take Lord Glorfindel to his talan. You have walked enough,” he said, smiling gently, teasing forgotten.

“An excellent idea,” Glorfindel agreed, seeing that Rúmil was in some discomfort. “Should the Lord and Lady ask, I released you myself, so you will not have neglected your duty.”

Rúmil was unconvinced, but he was also outnumbered, so he relented. Telling Orophin exactly which talan to use, he turned and walked slowly back to his post, having promised to see his brother again that evening.

“Well then,” Orophin said when Rúmil had gone, “shall we be off?”

Glorfindel nodded and Orophin smiled, enjoying the golden Elf’s company as he led the way to the luxurious guest talan.

END CHAPTER ONE