No Remedy

“You want me to what?” Erestor asked blankly,
staring at Lord Elrond.

The Master of Imladris sighed. “I want you to
lead the diplomatic mission to Lothlorien. You
leave tomorrow.”

Erestor tucked his hands into his sleeves when
they started to tremble. “My Lord - forgive me
for questioning your decisions, but why me? I’ve
never yet been on a diplomatic mission, how do
you know I won’t fail you horribly?”

Elrond grinned at him. “Now, Erestor - you may
not have been out of Imladris in centuries, but it
hasn’t softened your wits. You can still talk me
out of my plans in council meetings and I’m fairly
sure you could charm the birds out of the trees if
you put your mind to it. There is no better choice
for this mission.”

“Is it so important?” Erestor asked, surprised,
purposefully ignoring the compliments.

“It’s rather important. We need to decide on the
new trade routes between Lothlorien and ourselves,
and discussing the reopening of negotiations with
Mirkwood.”

“Huh. I’m not sure I’m the best choice for that last.”
Erestor said, moving back toward his desk and the
paperwork that *had* to be done today, trip or
no trip.

Elrond chuckled. “You underestimate yourself.
Besides, I’m sure you can put aside personal feelings
to deal with something so important to Imladris.
You wouldn’t be my Chief Counselor if you couldn’t.”

Erestor grumbled something and sat down, sorting
through the parchments and scrolls piled high on his
desk. This list had to go to the traders today, this
letter could be given to an assistant to complete...
he wished his hands would stop trembling.

“What condition are the guest rooms in?” Elrond
asked.

“They are always prepared,” Erestor replied
absently, picking up a particularly thick missive
from a border patrol, “why?”

“The delegation from Mirkwood will arrive this
evening; they will stay with us overnight and join
you and your escort on the way to Lothlorien.”

Erestor got his wish. His hands stopped shaking.

They froze in horror, instead.


*


Glorfindel watched as Elrond greeted the Mirkwood
Elves, wondering why Erestor was not in attendance.
The Councillor usually made sure he was there when
important guests arrived. Those dark eyes were always
watching to make sure everything in Imladris was perfect.

He wondered why today was the exception?

Well, Erestor wouldn’t have been expecting to be the
Lothlorien diplomat; he was probably packing and
making arrangements for others to carry out his duties.

Glorfindel smirked. It was going to take a lovely lot of
Elves for *that*. No other being in Imladris could
single-handedly perform all of Erestor’s duties. Not
without dropping dead from overwork.

Still, Glorfindel wished he were here. He’d been
looking forward to seeing the dark Elf all day,
wanting to catch his eye after last night and see if it
would fluster him. If he’d learned anything about
Erestor over the years, it was that the Elf always
seemed to regret relaxing around someone. There
were some very confused elves in Rivendell that had
spoken to Erestor once and been shunned for
decades afterwards.

Glorfindel was determined not to be one of them.
Erestor needed a friend, whether he wanted one or
not. Glorfindel nodded to himself, satisfied with his
resolution, then turned his attention back to the
diplomats.

He didn’t care much for their appearance - there were
some lovely elves among them, but every one looked
proud to the point of arrogance. Particularly one tall
blond Elf. Well, all of them were blond, but this Elf
had hair like pale sunlight, eyes like the morning sky,
nice even features and it was all marred by the haughty
expression. He was looking around the Fire Hall like
he was inspecting it for flaws, and seemed disappointed
when he found none.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes and turned his attention back
to Elrond, who looked at the Elves with a question in
his eyes.

“I was told one of your king’s sons would accompany
you?”

“Yes, Lord Elrond, our Prince Legolas was supposed
to be among the delegates. He was kept back by a
small... er, accident... but he shall follow us within the
week.”

“Ah,” Elrond nodded, “then we shall be pleased to
receive him soon.”

Two dark Elves entered from a side door and Glorfindel
straightened from where he was relaxed against a carved
pillar, thinking Erestor had finally come into the Hall. But
as they came into the light, he saw their long hair was a
shade of rich brown, not black. It was Elladan and Elrohir,
Elrond’s twin sons. He leaned back against the column,
then frowned when he saw that his actions had been
mirrored almost exactly by that light blond Elf he’d been
watching earlier.

Was he, too, looking for Erestor? There were not very
many dark Elves in Imladris.

Glorfindel frowned, remembering vaguely that Elrond had
told him Erestor had lived in Mirkwood, millennia ago.
Was this Elf, then, a friend of his? He felt a tight, almost
angry feeling in his chest and frowned. He wasn’t angry...
he didn’t think he’d ever felt this particular emotion before.
How very odd.

And why did he care, if Erestor had friends in Mirkwood?
He’d just decided the Elf *needed* a friend, didn’t he? He
frowned, not realizing it was almost a pout.

He wanted Erestor’s friend to be *him.*

A second later and he grinned at himself. He was acting
like a jealous Elfling.

...jealous?!

Was that what the odd feeling in his heart was? Jealously?
He blinked in surprise, trying to analyze his emotions, then
he looked back at the Mirkwood Elves and forgot what he
was thinking about.

The sunlight Elf was smiling sweetly at him.

Huh?

At his puzzled look, the smile grew, lost some of its
sweetness. Then it raked up and down his body and
became almost a leer.

Was that arrogant, petted diplomat *flirting* with him?!

Ick.

He was pretty enough, Glorfindel supposed, but he
knew from those earlier expressions that the Elf was
far from his type. He had little use for pompous,
supercilious Elves whose only grace was their tongue.

There were those who thought Erestor was that way.
Glorfindel’s own thoughts went back to what had become
their favorite subject lately. Yes, many Elves who thought
of the Chief Councillor that way, but Glorfindel knew
differently. He’d seen Erestor grim, but he’d also seen
him smiling while he played with Elrond’s children. Seen
him sarcastic, but never arrogant, cold but never cruel.
And he’d be quite lovely if he’d wear something besides
those sack-like robes and loosen his hair.

Whoa!

Where had that last thought come from?!

Erestor, lovely?

Glorfindel frowned, puzzled yet again. What *would*
the dark Elf look like, if he dressed in just leggings and
tunic and took his hair out of that tight braid? His bone
structure was exquisite, now that he thought about it,
his lips soft and full when they weren’t pressed tightly
together, and those big dark cat eyes were unique.
He’d never seen and Elf with eyes so black, they
made him think of midnight and velvet and -

- and he was getting carried away.

The Mirkwood Elves were following Elladan and
Elrohir toward the guest rooms, that one looking
back over his shoulder at Glorfindel.

The Elda resisted the urge to stick out his tongue
at him, and left the Hall. He had to make sure the
escort was ready to leave tomorrow.


*


Erestor nearly ran down the hallway, black robes
swirling around him like a dark cloud. He had to
run, or he was going to be late for dinner and
Elrond hated that. He didn’t want to displease
his Lord while the Mirkwood Elves were here
- the Valar only knew they didn’t need any more
ammunition to use against him.

He really hoped that none of the diplomats were
Elves he knew.

He paused just outside the doors of the Dining
Hall, ran a quick hand over his braid to make
sure no wayward strands were coming loose,
and settled his robes into place. From the
voices inside, he could tell that no one had
sat down yet, he wasn’t so late, after all.
Good. Fixing his face in its usual calm mask,
he opened one of the doors - he’d never in his
life opened both of a set of double doors to
enter a room - and went inside.

His eyes fell immediately on the Mirkwood Elves,
and his heart sank straight down to his toes. Not
him. Why did it have to be him? Did the Valar
really hate him that much? Already those pale
eyes were fixed on him, mocking laughter in their
depths when no one else paid attention to his
entrance.

Then Elladan and Elrohir entered the room together,
and came straight to him.

“Erestor! Where have you been all day? We
know you’re leaving tomorrow; surely you
intended to bid us goodbye?” Elladan’s voice
was purposefully sad.

“Yes, we’ve been looking for you!” Elrohir
chimed in, putting his arms around the older Elf’s
waist in an affectionate hug. “We’ve never once
been without you - this is going to be very strange
for us, you know!”

“So sit by us at dinner, *please*, Erestor? That
way we can talk to you before you’re gone for
months!” Elladan, despite reaching his maturity
centuries ago, could whine like an Elfling when it
suited him. Elrohir relied on large pleading eyes
- not that his tactic wasn’t as effective.

Erestor caved immediately. He’d always been fond
of the twins and they were among the few Elves in
Imladris who spoke to him without trembling like he
was some ogre. “Of course I will sit with you, if
that is what you wish.” He got two broad smiles
for his reply, then the two sets of blue-green eyes
focused on someone just behind him.

“I see you know when you’re outnumbered,” said
a rich voice. Erestor hid trembling hands in his
sleeves for the second time in one day and turned,
managing to keep his mask in place, only lifting an
elegant eyebrow.

Glorfindel beamed at him. “They outmaneuver me
constantly. I wonder how you ever kept them in
hand when they were children.”

“Don’t underestimate Erestor,” Elladan immediately
warned him, “he’s a tricky devil. He can make you
do all your work and more and not only feel it was
fun, but be certain that it was all your idea in the first
place.” The twins laughed together, then moved away,
leaving him alone with the blond.

Erestor had to restrain himself from grabbing at their
retreating forms. All thought of the Mirkwood Elves,
and one in particular, had fled his mind as he was left
facing his secret love. He tried valiantly to think of
something to say, but his brain seemed frozen.

“I hope the wine caused you no troubles?” Glorfindel’s
voice was polite, with an undertone of mischief.

“Eh?” 'Oh, splendid, Erestor, what a comeback!
That certainly impressed him!' he chided himself.

Glorfindel was still talking. “The wine. I know you
don’t usually take more than a sip. An entire goblet
didn’t leave you hung over and miserable, I hope?”

Thankfully, Erestor managed to gather his wits. “No,
it did not. ‘Tis not I who wanders the halls of Imladris
moaning and clutching my head the day after a
celebration, after all.” He didn’t have to add ‘like
you’, Glorfindel knew what he meant.

He grinned. “Ah, but the pleasure is worth the pain.
And you were apparently a good influence; I had a
relatively calm morning, for once.”

“I am much pleased to hear it, since you are leading
the escort. Otherwise I would worry over the
possibility of being guarded by maidens with slingshots,
riding on purple horses.” He said the last with such a
straight face that Glorfindel burst out laughing. Several
Elves turned to see what was so amusing and got only
confusion for their trouble.

Glorfindel was standing with Erestor, and laughing?
With Erestor? Glorfindel was laughing while he
stood with...

Several Elves surreptitiously pinched themselves, to
see if they were dreaming.

Lord Elrond moved away from the Mirkwood Elves
and came over, putting a hand on Erestor’s shoulder.
“What is the joke, pray tell?”

“Erestor was only expressing his relief at the fact that
I was not suffering from a hangover whilst preparing
the escort,” Glorfindel grinned.

Elrond copied him. “Ah, I’m a bit relieved myself.
If I must trust my Chief Counselor to you, I prefer it
to be when you are not cloudy-headed.” His smile
took any sting out of the words - he trusted Glorfindel
with his children and his own life, and the blond Elf
knew it.

“Come, Erestor,” Elrond sighed. “Dinner with the
diplomats. I know the twins want you near them, so
they will sit at the High Table, as well, instead of among
the warriors for once. I still have much to discuss with
you. Glorfindel, you will join us, please? I wish to
speak to you, as well.”

“Of course, my Lord.” The two Elves chorused, then
stared at each other. Glorfindel snickered, and Erestor
just shook his head. Elrond laughed out loud, and
pushed Erestor toward the table by the shoulder he
still held, catching Glorfindel’s arm with his other hand
and pulling him along.

Erestor, finally remembering who might be watching,
stole a quick peek at the Mirkwood Elves. Most of
them were watching, including Araden. The pale blond
Elf’s expression was a mixture of surprise and puzzlement.
Erestor noticed, with some surprise of his own, that he
didn’t look vexed by the attention he himself was receiving.
He wondered if the other Elf had changed in the last millennia,
and put the idea aside as highly unlikely.

He took his regular seat beside of Elrond, and Elladan sat
down beside of him. On his other side was his twin, then
Glorfindel. The first course was set in front of them and
Erestor nibbled at it, not totally comfortable with the gaze
of six Mirkwood Elves fixed on him. Araden had, no doubt,
told them all sorts of things about him; their eyes were
curious and measuring.

He was never more thankful for the mask he wore; the force
of a habit cultivated for years kept him serene and
expressionless.

One the outside, at least.

Inside, he felt a strong desire to hide behind Elrond’s chair.

Or Glorfindel’s.

Hold a moment, why Glorfindel’s? Just because he’d
spoken to the Elf twice now about something that wasn’t
Imladris business didn’t mean he was suddenly his best
friend. His eyes darted to the tall blond for an instant
and went slightly wide.

Glorfindel was gazing straight at him, a smile in dark blue
eyes.

Erestor’s hands started shaking for an entirely different
reason.


*


Elladan and Elrohir strolled down the hallway arm-in-arm,
on their way to Erestor’s rooms. They had a going-away
gift for him, and hoped he’d actually be in his chambers,
packing, and not running around Imladris attending to a
thousand-and-one last minute duties.

The twins, like Glorfindel, were well aware of how much
Erestor did - but they were looking forward, with their
usual gleeful sense of humor, to the chaos that would begin
a day or so after he was gone. They knew their Ada had
no idea of how much his Chief Counselor did, or he would
have seen to it that Erestor had more than one assistant.

“Poor Figwit,” Elladan mused, “he’s going to be run off
his feet.”

“We’ll help him out. Otherwise, he’ll be blamed for not
keeping up with his own duties. We’re hoping to make
everyone realize how much Erestor is needed, not start
thinking how inept little Figwit is.”

“Very true. Oh, wait, I have a better idea! Ada was
speaking of sending us to the traders with those lists
- let’s request a scribe and take Figwit. There are other
Elves in the Library that can see to his duties. Most of
them let him do all the work, anyway.”

“True again, which is why he has little time to help Erestor.
Really, I know Ada is busy, but we’re going to have to
point out that his best workers are toiling until they are
half-fading, while others only play at their duties.”

“No, we won’t. By the time we’re back from our little
trip, he’ll know.”

“Yes! And perhaps he’ll send us after Erestor, for no one
else will be able to sort out the mess.”

“Yes! And then we can see them!”

They exchanged excited glances. Among the other things
that Elrond did not know was that fact that both his sons
had lovers in Lothlorien. They saw no reason to tell him.

Not yet.

Not until they talked their lovers into bonding.

Then they would just sit back and watch him explode.

They were expected to take maidens to wife, after all - there
had to be heirs for Imladris. But their lovers were male, and
they were happy to keep it that way. They had long ago
decided to follow their hearts and not the rules set out for
their lives. Ada would calm down after a day or so,
probably welcome their beloved warriors with open arms.

And there was always Arwen; she could provide the heir
once she chose a lifemate. Of course, that would be many
years in the future; their precious little sister had only just
reached her majority.

The twins arrived at Erestor’s door and knocked politely.
If it had been any of their other tutors or friends, they would
have just gone in, but Erestor valued his privacy and they
valued him.

“Who is there?” A rather muffled voice called.

“‘Tis Elladan!”

“And Elrohir!”

“We have something for you.”

“May we come in?”

There was a slight pause, then “If you will forgive my
appearance...”

They exchange puzzled glances this time. “Erestor?”

The door opened and they nearly gaped.

“I was... looking for old clothes to travel in.” The Elf
inside said, blushing.

They continued to stare, speechless. This couldn’t be
Erestor. Not their plain, solemn teacher. The Elf pushed
back a loose waterfall of curly black hair and scowled at
them. “Are you going to stand like statues in the hall all
evening?”

Ah, so it *was* Erestor, just cleverly disguised. They
couldn’t mistake that sarcastic voice. They sidled into
the room, still gazing at him with wide eyes, and mutely
held out a package.

Erestor narrowed his eyes at their actions - so they’d
never seen him in leggings and tunic with his damn
wayward hair loose, did they have to gape like small
children at a festival? - and took the gift, opening it
carefully. He instantly forgot the twins’ odd reaction,
lifting out the beautiful cloak inside. “This is lovely,” he
said softly.

His voice broke the spell the others were under and
they nearly shook themselves.

“Oh... yes, we knew you didn’t have a traveling cloak...”
Elladan managed, still staring but with a delighted gleam
beginning to seep into his eyes.

“Just those thin ones you wear when you walk in the
garden...” Elrohir continued, blinking at his brother.
What did that look mean?

“We know you usually like black, but there were no
black cloaks to be had on such short notice.” Elladan
avoided his twin’s questioning gaze.

“This is fine. This is more than fine.” Erestor’s voice
was still quiet, big dark eyes a little misty as he stroked
the fine material of the soft grey cloak. “It’s beautiful.”

'So are you.'

Both twins nearly spoke the words out loud, and both
of them pressed their lips tight against them. Erestor
was wearing a dark blue tunic that was only half-laced,
showing a bit of chest that surprised them with its lean
muscles, and he wore black leggings. His pale skin
usually looked deathly white against his black clothes,
but dressed in the blue, it glowed like moonlight. His
hair was like nothing they’d ever seen before - once,
as children, they’d seen a blond Elf with curls and she’d
been lovely, highly sought after, but Erestor’s hair was
far more beautiful than hers had been. He’d obviously
just brushed it, preparing for bed, and it shone in the
candle-lit room, tumbling far past his waist in waves and
curls, small tendrils brushing against his face and throat.

And although the loose tunic covered him to mid-thigh,
the dark, tight leggings showed them that Erestor’s slim
legs were quite... delicious.

“We’re glad you like it,” Elladan said, not feeling the
slightest bit of guilt as his eyes roamed over his mentor’s
lovely form. He was true to his ‘Lorien lover, but that
didn’t mean he was blind. And Elrohir was studying the
dark Elf just as intently. He finally pulled his eyes back
to Erestor’s face, noting that the thin ‘death’s head’ that
got so many comments - for which he’d punched a few
Elflings when he was younger - only looked delicate and
fragile when surrounded by curls. He had a sudden vision
of Glorfindel, and the way he’d been gazing at Erestor for
years - probably without the Elda even realizing it - and
the gleam in his eyes got brighter.

“Are you nearly packed?” Elrohir’s voice snapped him
completely out of his daze. There were a few neat piles
of clothes on Erestor’s desk, an open bag on the floor
next to him.

“Yes. Tell me, you two have traveled much more than I
- are these going to stand up to the journey?”

Elrohir obediently turned his attention to the garments
- almost all of them were black, Elladan noted - while
his twin’s eyes continued around the room.

Erestor’s receiving room/personal study was much like
the Elf himself; plain, dark, and with the undertone of
famine. Or at least how he used to see Erestor - he
was quite sure he’d never be able to look at him the
same way again.

The room they stood in had the desk, walls lined with
bookshelves, a fireplace and two well-worn, rather
comfortable chairs pulled close to it. He and his twin
had learned to play chess while sitting in those chairs,
a small table with the board pulled close. There were
two closed doors on the far wall, and in all the centuries
he’d visited Erestor’s rooms, he had yet to see inside
of them.

Just like he’d never seen Erestor’s hair down, or the
advisor wearing anything but darkest black.

Well, there had been the one time Ada had forbidden
him to wear black; it was the time of their parent’s
binding anniversary, before Nana had left for Valinor.
Ada had refused to let Erestor stay in the shadows like
he usually did, and told him he’d be insulted if he wore
black to such a happy occasion.

Elladan nearly laughed at the memory - Erestor had
calmly agreed and then shown up in a robe of deep,
dark green. Ada had been furious until Nana laughed.
Celebrian had always enjoyed it when Erestor turned
the tables on her husband.

Now that he thought about it, hadn’t that been the first
time Glorfindel’s eyes lingered on Ada’s Chief Counselor?
He had looked less of the dead white scarecrow in those
green robes... no. No, he couldn’t remember the first
time he’d caught that odd gaze, but that hadn’t been it.
It had just been more noticeable that night.

“Elladan? Come, we should Erestor to his rest.” Elrohir’s
words brought his attention back to the other Elves.
Erestor was putting the last few garments into his small
bag while Elrohir stood near the door.

“Ah, yes. We will be by to see you off at dawn, Erestor.”

“Thank you again for the cloak,” Erestor replied, watching
as they left the room and pulled the door shut. Really, as
long as he had known the twins, they occasionally
managed to puzzle him. What had those stares been
about? Just because he looked odd? He knew they
were not so shallow as to poke fun at a strange-looking
Elf. Though rare, there were others in Imladris who were
different from the beautiful norm, and the twins never
treated them any differently.

Ah, well. He’d never figured them out when they
confused him before, why should it be any different
now?


*


“All right, what was that look about?”

“What look?”

“When your eyes got all happy and shiny? I know
you... you were plotting something!”

“Elrohir! Have you no faith in me?”

“No.”

“All right, all right. I was just thinking of giving
Glorfindel a bit of a tip. 'Steal Erestor’s hair clips',
or something like that.”

“Ah, so you’ve noticed him watching our Advisor,
too? I have a better idea.”

“And what is that?”

“We shall tell Ada he should pass a new law.”

“And the law shall be...?”

“That all raven-haired Elves in Imladris are
forbidden to braid their hair.”

Both twins dissolved in laughter.

“Valar! Imagine the look on Ada’s face!”