Rationalising MPreg

Title: Rationalising MPreg
Author: sylc
Summary: Lindir, a former thrall, is forced against his will to become a witness in Sauron's trial on Taniquetil in the Fourth Age.
Characters/Pairings: Glorfindel/Lindir, Sauron/Lindir, OMC/Lindir, OMC/Lindir, Ingwë, Eönwë, Silmo, Elrond, Ecthelion, OMCs, OFCs
Rating: NC-17 (for series)
Warnings: Slash, MPreg, Angst, Slavery, Noncon, Tentacles, Body manipulation, Mind control, Oral, Violence, Minor involved
Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I make money from this.


It was barely dawn and Glorfindel was already irritated and to make matters worse, he was irritated that he was irritated. Since his return to his homelands in Valinor a few years ago, it seemed that his temper was under a perpetually short fuse and as he agitatedly reread the letter that he currently held in his hand, he suspected that this agitation was more than likely due to the fact that he was, in fact, in his homelands.

Relatives are quite the ulcer sometimes, he thought as he turned, eyes still on the letter, to stalk into the library of his residence in the City of Tirion. A residence that he and his family was actually borrowing off of an old friend, an old friend who had a considerably cooler and brighter head than him when it came to career choices and decided that rather than squander his resources on returning to the war-torn lands of Middle-Earth and playing patball with orc heads, he would instead invest it in property. Oh yes, Ecthelion had done very well.

Glorfindel threw himself into the high backed chair before the empty fireplace and put his slippered feet up onto the leather ottoman, sparing the letter a moment's respite from the invisible daggers that he was shooting at it to glance at the fireplace and wonder if he could burn it and claim ignorance to the letter's existence.

Probably not. So with a resigned air, he picked up the bell on the tiny ornate table beside him, rang it, and told the servant who promptly appeared through a panelled door in the room to summon Lindir and the two of their children (though only one of his own blood) that were currently guests in the house down to him.

"And if they ask for a reason?" the servant asked, reminding Glorfindel that neither of the children in question were likely to be content with a simple unexplained invitation and that one in particular were more than likely to conduct a cold and suspicious interrogation of their messengers. Naturally, this one was of Glorfindel's blood.

"A letter arrived in the night. My grandfather, Ingwë, has invited us to his halls," Glorfindel said, putting the open letter face down on the table and putting the bell on top of a fold in the parchment. He absently fiddled with the collar of his velvet dressing gown, drawing it closer to his neck. "He wishes to meet us."

"Understood. And will there be anything else?"

"Breakfast for the four of us."

"Very good, My Lord." The servant quietly left, pulling the panelled door shut behind him, hiding both his and the door's existence from Glorfindel's eyes in an instant. Glorfindel's gaze slid unwillingly back to the letter. A pit of unease had opened up in his stomach ever since he had woken up when it was still dark and come down to find the messenger awaiting him at the front door, clad in the livery of Ingwë's household, letter in hand. Very few words had been exchanged, Glorfindel had been in too much shock and the messenger had seemed pressed for time. Only now did Glorfindel wish that he had read the letter in front of the messenger and demanded answers from him -- a clue as to why Ingwë wished to see him now... and with Lindir and their children in tow. Now, he felt bereft and knew that he would feel even moreso after his children were done with him shortly. He would surely look like a hypocrite to them. To make it clear to them that he had severed ties with Ingwë as a result of his blackening the family name and then to suddenly declare that all relations were well and that they should trot off cheerfully and obediently to Ingwë's halls to pay their respects to his grandparents, parents, and various uncles, aunts, and many cousins.

Of course, he could refuse to go, but where would that lead them? Refusing to attend to the wishes of the King of the Elves of Elvenhome and his more blessed progeny when he now resided and probably would reside in their realm until the world was utterly changed, was not something even Glorfindel could think to disobey. It would be political and financial suicide if one of Ingwë's relatives decided to take up a vengeful stance against him... something that he did not put past them. There was plenty of fat on the fire: his involvement with the crimes of the Noldor -- a kindred to which his loyalties were less binding than to the Vanyar, his refusal to remain in Valinor on his resurrection and settle down to a pious life with a reputable bride. And now, more recently, a family born out of wedlock, children that weren't his own, and a male partner who had spent most of his years in thralldom in Mordor.

Hearing movement in the upstairs bedrooms, footsteps on the stairwells, he shut his eyes and exhaled. There was nothing that he could do about it now. He would simply have to settle for looking like a hypocrite and feeling ridiculous before his children -- and that was nothing new. He smiled at the thought. Parenthood is indeed a cruel lesson in one's own hypocrisy. He slid his eyes open and turned his eyes towards the library's main doors, to regard the first arrival of those he summoned. Unsurprisingly, it was Lindir, the diminutive elf wrapped in the white dressing gown that had been earlier hanging alongside Glorfindel's own gown near their bedroom's door. Smiling brightly, he slipped over to Glorfindel's chair to lean down and kiss him quickly, then peer over him at the letter on the ornate table, his long hair, tousled and unbraided, fell over his shoulders and draped across Glorfindel's arms and lap. Glorfindel stuck an arm out and pulled Lindir onto his lap where the smaller elf cheerfully settled, still peering curiously at the letter.

"We received a letter? Is that it?" Lindir nodded at the letter and Glorfindel obligingly slid it out from beneath the bell and handed it to him, simultaneously wrapping his other arm tighter around him, pulling him back against his chest. As Lindir read it, two other elves appeared at the doors to the library. One elf was tall and fair haired -- one of their sons, Glingal. The other, a maiden, was small and delicate -- their only daughter, Linden, though not Glorfindel's in blood.

"You called us?" Glingal asked as he walked over, grabbing two cushioned seats on his way. He set them down beside Glorfindel, between him and the fireplace, and ushered his sister into the one closest to Glorfindel and Lindir, the latter of whom passed the letter to her with a smile. "Bad news usually comes swiftly and at strange hours; I do hope this is not bad news."

"To tell the truth, I do not have the foggiest idea of how to take this letter," Glorfindel said, watching Linden's brow knit as she absorbed the letter's contents. "It is concise and extremely vague. I am half of a mind to send it back requesting he rewrite it and clarify himself, but he demands to see us before Spring, which requires that we leave within the next fortnight unless we wish to battle the Winter."

"You jest about sending it back, I hope. And that sounds like an urgent request," Linden said as she passed the letter to Glingal. "And you have no clue as to why he might have called for us all?"

"Unless he has had a sudden and miraculous turn of heart towards accepting me back into his house, then I have no idea," Glorfindel said. "And I doubt that that miracle has taken place; I rather think he would do such a thing, if at all, in small steps. As in he would accept me first, then accept my children by blood, then Lindir, and so on."

"You are not thinking of refusing it, I hope?" she asked. "That would not be a wise venture, though I suspect it has crossed your mind, considering the impression you give us of your relationship with them. I rather thought that our family would never be granted the dignity of acknowledgement, much less acceptance."

Ah, the blessed time for ridicule. Glorfindel was almost disappointed that they seemed not to notice or care about his show of hypocrisy. He smiled tightly. "I agree with you; it would be most unwise." He watched Glingal refold the letter and lean forward to place it on the ottoman. "What do you think, Glingal?"

"I am thinking that this letter, in light of what you just said, is neither an invitation nor a request," Glingal said slowly as he leaned back in his chair, his elbows on the arms. "But it seems unreasonable for him to order you to summon the five of us siblings within the next two weeks. Why, only Linden and I are in Tirion. I suppose we could contact Laiglas, but Gloredhel and Lindo are travelling and untraceable."

"I will send word to Laiglas in Alqualondë. He may know the whereabouts of Lindo," Lindir said, referring to his own two sons -- sons not related in blood to Glorfindel. "And Gloredhel..." He spoke now of the other son besides Glingal that he shared with Glorfindel. ..."Gloredhel is Gloredhel. Perhaps Laiglas will have heard something with his sharp ears. If they can not make it, hopefully King Ingwë will understand the situation."

"He will have to understand it," Glorfindel said, watching the panelled door reopen and a few servants enter with trays of pastries and jugs of tea, an unignorable intrusion of sights and smells. "So we are agreed to travel together at the end of next week?" he asked, sensing his audience's attention shifting towards the distraction. "There are no pressing engagements for the three of you?"

Linden nodded. "No engagements for me -- I will come."

"As will I," Glingal said.

"And I am offended that you did not already know my schedule," Lindir said with a laugh. Glorfindel looked at him and laughed softly.

"I like to think I do, but thought it politer to pretend that I was less curious about the way in which my beloved spends his time and I am certain that despite my efforts, you still have clandestine activities that elude me." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Lindir's cheek. "Now will you answer my question?"

"Certainly. I will come."

~*~

They set out the following week as planned. Besides Glorfindel, Lindir, only Glingal, Linden, and Laiglas accompanied them. While Gloredhel had been still untraceable by the end of the fortnight, Lindo had been too far away to be able to make it back to Tirion in time for the date of departure.

King Ingwë's halls were located at the foot of the mountain known as Taniquetil, atop of which were located the halls of the King and Queen of the Valar, Manwë and Varda. The foot of the mountain was some two weeks swift journeying by horseback from Tirion, but as they were in a horsedrawn closed carriage with a driver and in no real haste, Glorfindel estimated that it would take them about three weeks.

Now, already just over two weeks into the journey, Glorfindel found himself sitting beside Glingal in the carriage opposite of a sleeping Lindir and two of the three children that he adopted along with the elf: Laiglas and Linden, who was also asleep. Laiglas was the eldest of all their children and the tallest and lankiest by far... as well as being unarguably the most disagreeable, at least towards Glorfindel. He sat in the windowseat beside the door, his milk-white angular face and black eyes glaring at the view, tinted faintly orange by the light of the setting sun. Bony arms folded, black hair tightly braided back into severe unadorned plaits, his mouth drawn into a tight pout, he looked as sour and aloof as Glorfindel ever remembered him, possibly even more severe.

Maybe Alqualondë disagreed with him, Glorfindel thought and he found himself wondering what Laiglas had been doing there at all. Lindir had mentioned something of his visiting the memorials of the slain elves killed at the end of the First Age of the Sun, visiting various sites on the Gulf, and following the trail of the flight of the Noldor. Not that Laiglas had inherited any blood that had rightful interest in such morbid history. Or perhaps he did -- as Lindir's eldest son, he had, after all, spent the longest time of all of them (save Lindir) in thralldom. In many senses, Glorfindel wished that Laiglas had refrained from accompanying them on this trip. The elf was mentally brilliant, certainly, even Elrond had marvelled at his ability to learn when the elf had been a student in Imladris, but so cold socially that Glorfindel was definite that he would be a terribly caustic addition in Ingwë's halls.

Ah well. At least Ingwë would be seeing the worst of the family along with the best. A decent cross-section, though it would help to have the more adventurous and rowdy Glingal and Lindo both here to rouse up some warmth. He turned his head and looked at Lindir and Linden, who were leaning on one another as they slept, then to Glingal beside him. His son caught his eye and smiled at him. "Father," he said.

"Aye?" Glorfindel smiled back at him. Opposite, Laiglas stirred to look unsmilingly at them and then returned his attention to the countryside. One of his black braids fell forward over his shoulder and into his lap. Glorfindel absently admired the heavy silken tresses.

"Did you grow up in Ingwë's halls?" Glingal asked.

Glorfindel shook his head, still looking at Laiglas. "No," he said distractedly. "I went there when I was a newborn and when I reached my majority. If I had been married here..." He paused and gave a sour laugh. "Correction -- if I had decided to wed a bride that met the approval of His Highness, then I suppose that that wedding would take place in the halls as well."

"Are the halls very grand? Grander than the ones in Tirion?"

Glorfindel nodded. "Grand in a different sense," he said. "It looks a deceptively simple place, but you will feel the blessings of the Ainur on that... place." Across from them, Laiglas looked at him again and blinked slowly, no expression in his black eyes. Glorfindel felt his smile fade. Then Laiglas stretched a bony arm around Lindir and, as Lindir stirred, bent towards him and said in his soft level voice.

"We are in sight of the next rest stop."

"Oh?" Lindir straightened and looked around to the window to smile when he saw that what Laiglas had said was true and that they were already in the small town. "Oh, we have travelled quite a way! How long have I slept?"

"You began to doze just after noon," Glorfindel supplied gently, watching a still unsmiling Laiglas reach over Lindir to grasp Linden's shoulder, shaking her awake as well. As her eyes focused, she spotted Glingal across from her and answered his grin with a mischievous, sleepy grin. "Brother," she greeted, before turning her head to nod at Glorfindel and Laiglas. Glorfindel nodded in response; he was fond of Linden and her whimsical, playful manner and bright smile. Of all their children, he fancied that she most resembled Lindir. As the carriage shook to a halt before the largest of the town's inns, his eyes shifted back to Lindir, who met his gaze and smiled brightly. Glorfindel returned the smile.

The doors were opened and they stepped out of the carriage to be greeted by the inn's owner and ushered to their rooms, Glorfindel bringing up the rear. As they passed through the hallway, he happened to glance into the parlour and abruptly halted when when he spotted a familiar face seated at a far table before a modest supper. Astonishment transformed to delight and he slipped away unnoticed from his company to go over to the table and, when he drew alongside the other person in question, playfully reached down and waved his hand in front of the other's brooding face. "Well this is an unexpected meeting, my friend," he said, chuckling when the other started and looked up at him, eyes widening in amazement.

"Glorfindel! What do you do here?"

"I wish to ask you the same question, Elrond," Glorfindel responded, pecking him quickly on the cheek before pulling out the seat beside Elrond and dropping gracefully into it. He noted that his former lord was clad in tunic and breeches beneath his deep blue cloak. "Are you alone?" He glanced around the parlour, then looked back to see the other give a quick nod. His smile faded slightly. "I assume that you are also a traveller in transit so where lies your destination?"

"I am headed to King Ingwë's halls. And you? Are you alone and to where are you headed?"

"Ah, what a coincidence! We happen to share the same destination. My party are also headed to Ingwë's halls," Glorfindel responded cheerfully. "I am here with Lindir, Laiglas, Linden, and Glingal; we were invited there to attend him." Then he frowned and tilted his head. "May I learn why you are headed there? I was unaware that you were close to him or his family... save to me, of course. Oh, but as you are alone, perhaps it is not a social visit? Or maybe Celebrían is already in the halls or otherwise occupied in Tirion?"

"That is correct. It is not a social visit, much as I would wish it otherwise. I am travelling alone as Celebrían declined the invite. His highness requested that we visit him on a matter which is not for open discussion."

"Oh?" Glorfindel's brow knitted. He could not think of any reason for Ingwë to call for Elrond on a matter that warranted secrecy. Curious to hear this matter, he suggested, "should we move somewhere more private?"

Elrond reached out and slid an empty wine cup across the table to him, shifted slightly in his seat so that he leaned forward towards him. "Judging from your tone of voice, I suppose you do not know already know why I have been summoned to his halls," he said quietly, picking up the bottle set in the middle of the table and tilting it to pour out and fill the cup with the golden liquid.

"That is true; thus, my burning curiosity."

"Hmph." Smiling, Elrond pushed the cup towards Glorfindel, who nodded his thanks. "Maybe I am being presumptuous about your relationship with Ingwë, but it strikes me as strange that Lindir has been invited as well as you; I already knew that Ingwë was on poor relations with you, but I thought that that relationship was worsened as a result of your partnership with him."

"That is also true." Glorfindel picked up the cup, then recalled his initial question and put it down again. "But enough about me. Am I allowed to learn the reason for your visit to Ingwë's halls, perhaps in a private room if not out here?"

His brow knit when Elrond shook his head. "No. I am afraid I have been asked to speak of this matter with no one, not even to you, though perhaps His Highness will agree to reveal the reason to you once you arrive; I am sorry."

"Oh, no, no. There is no need for you to apologise." Glorfindel said, waving his hand dismissively. "Anyway, as you are still in the middle of your meal, may I call down the rest of my party so that we may dine together?" He picked up his cup and over the rim, observed Elrond smile gratefully, the tension suddenly melting from his face.

"Please do." Elrond said. "I would greatly appreciate the company."

~*~

Not long after Elrond excused himself from the table and headed out of the parlour, Glorfindel followed suit. He had sensed, in spite of the other's cheerful manner during the meal, that there was something troubling Elrond. That it had something to do with the reason why Elrond was travelling alone to Ingwë's halls was almost certain and Glorfindel still hoped to discover the reason... or at least a clue... as to this important and secretive matter.

He caught Elrond at the foot of the stairs. "Elrond. May we speak more in private?"

"Yes. Follow me," Elrond beckoned him with a wave of his hand as he proceeded up the stairs to his rooms. "I apologise for my subdued behaviour," he added as he opened the door to his rooms and entered, holding the door open for Glorfindel. "I was distracted."

Glorfindel smiled. "Ah, I do not think most of us noticed. Though I must say that your mood only increases my intense curiousity to find out why Ingwë summoned you to his halls."

"Ha! I am sure." Elrond snorted and closed the door. "But Glorfindel, if that is the only reason why you are here, then you will be solely disappointed; I have zero intention of telling you a jot about my mission." He turned and went over to one of the windows, which faced north. Glorfindel followed his gaze to the lights in the far distance beneath the looming shape of the mountain of Taniquetil. After a pause, he walked over to stand behind him and put his chin on Elrond's shoulder. Elrond stiffened, looked sidelong at his smiling expression in surprise, then snorted again, a smile on his face.

"Not even a hint?" Glorfindel asked amusedly.

"Why did Ingwë summon you; does he wish for reconciliation?"

Elrond was obviously trying to distract him and Glorfindel obliged him. "Ah, I doubt it," he said, shifting his chin so that he faced the view and the distant lights. "If he did, I doubt that he would have expressed himself in such a sudden way as to encourage me to agree to reconcile with him."

"I see. It has been a long time since you last spoke to him face to face, is it not?"

Glorfindel's smile faded. "Yes. Many, many centuries. Many millenia, actually. I did not see him after my resurrection."

There was a silence, then Elrond suddenly said, "do you never sway in your adamance that he will not heed your interests above his own and his household's reputation?" His voice was soft.

Another silence. Then Glorfindel smiled again and admitted, "I do." This time, his smile was wistful. "I often sway..."

"You never show it; I even feared that you would be angered at my question."

"You feared?" Glorfindel made an amused noise in his throat and wrapped his arms playfully around Elrond's waist. "Ho? So you have desired to ask this question of me before, then, but refrained? You surprise me, Elrond."

"I do not think you realise how much I dare not unsettle those around me with forward questions about their values and their past, especially those who I fear to lose. I am not one who can be forgiven for prying questions. Indeed, I imagine that I appear suspicious when I do ask such questions." He paused, then continued, "You have never struck me as one who likes to speak in detail about such intimate thoughts, at least not in my presence, so I have never raised a discussion about them with you."

Glorfindel's eyes softened. "I see. Well, I have had little need to think about my own values for many years now... not since I took my oath with Lindir and even then it was only in my fleeting doubt about the suitability of our match, which was, as I still think, entirely absurd and yet just right for me. Perhaps he was my salvation from the uncertainty that provokes such contemplation; I never seem to find opportunity to do anything save marvel at his love for me." He smiled wistfully. "I have heard that there is no such thing as unconditional love from a spouse, certainly nothing to rival the love between mother and son, but I think I may have found such a love."

There was yet another silence. Then Elrond stirred. "You say that, but..." Elrond's voice was soft. "How much... do you actually know about Lindir?"

"Eh?" Glorfindel blinked. "Well..."

There was a sudden knock at the door, interrupting their conversation. Glorfindel straightened, releasing Elrond from his embrace, who looked around. "Enter!" he called. When the door opened to admit Lindir, Glorfindel smiled.

"Ah, forgive me, Elrond," Lindir said, bowing slightly. "But seeing as you are travelling alone, I thought that you might like to travel with us. You would be most welcome."

"Ah, yes. You are most welcome," Glorfindel said, looking at Elrond, who was smiling at Lindir. "But I think you would have your own carriage, surely?"

"I do," Elrond said, glancing at him before looking back at Lindir. "But Lindir is right; it is lonesome travelling alone. So how about we split the party between the two carriages?"

~*~

The following day, the party split up into two groups. After some deliberation, it was decided that Elrond, Glorfindel, and Lindir would travel in one carriage and the siblings Glingal, Laiglas, and Linden in the other carriage. This worked nicely as while it allowed Elrond, Glorfindel, and Lindir opportunity to catch up while the siblings were also kept content in each other's company.

It was a little cramped in Elrond's carriage as the half-elf had, for some reason, seen fit to load up the seats opposite with bundles of parchment. Lindir, ever polite, had not even seemed to notice the bundles as he climbed in and took a seat at the far end, pulling his white cloak about him and gracefully crossing his legs. Glorfindel was less polite -- his friendship with Elrond had given him a certain amount of brazenness when it came to Elrond's work.

"Medical notes pilfered from Imladris?" he asked a few hours into the journey, flipping through the pages of one of the bundles that he had picked up from the seat opposite him. "I do not recognise them." And... before Elrond could speak to reply, he suddenly looked at the stamp that decorated the base of some of the papers. "Ah, this would explain why. Though I am curious to know why you have notes compiled by the wood-elven healers of Northern Mirkwood. They are not as skilled as the Imladris healers. Why not bring your own notes?"

"You mean Greenwood," Elrond corrected, looking slightly irritated. "And they do happen to be mine; they were given to me."

"What? To try to worsen, rather than heal, the ailments of Imladrian elves?" Glorfindel asked with a forced straight face. He and Lindir laughed when Elrond scowled and stuck out an elbow and got him in the ribs. "Very well, very well. It surprises me that you brought them with you to Elvenhome. Why not leave them in Imladris? Are you trying to spread Mirkwood's poor healing techniques to these lands as well? That will not make you popular."

"I have left copies in Imladris, but I rather think that their usefulness is almost finished," Elrond said, reaching over and tugging the bundle out of Glorfindel's hands. "As the former chief healer of Imladris, I thought it my responsibility to bring this knowledge to Elvenhome where it may be preserved."

"As a memory of the paucity of the skills of the Northern Mirkwood healers," Glorfindel said, snatching the bundle back and flipping it back open. "You insult them, Elrond." He chuckled when Elrond nudged him again. "So what is so special about these notes? How to cure a patient by bleeding them? How to effectively remove gangrenous limbs with a wood-elven saw and a bottle of the Elf-King's best red wine?"

"You incorrigable pest," Elrond said. "You are the one insulting them. Read the title of the bundle."

Grinning, Glorfindel obligingly did so. His smile faded somewhat. "Oh."

"What is it?" Lindir asked from where he sat on Glorfindel's other side. Glorfindel handed the bundle to him and after reading the title, Lindir started to flick through the pages at a slower pace than that used by his spouse, his interest apparently caught and held by the subject matter. Glorfindel looked back at Elrond, who was watching Lindir with a faint frown on his face.

"You do not want him to read it?" Glorfindel asked after a moment. Lindir looked up and blinked.

Elrond looked at him and his face relaxed. "Ah, he may read it, of course. I was curious to see his reaction; the matter does concern his condition, after all. It was more common in Northern Mirkwood due to the realm's proximity to Dol Guldur, but due to our mutual agreement to share our healing knowledge, they sent these notes to me. I was thankful for them when Lindir first arrived in Imladris. But now, I suspect -- I hope -- that the number of cases is on the decrease."

"That is unlikely if the healers do not bother to operate on the victim and the victim's male children," Glorfindel said. "And as you said yourself, you do not know what will happen should Linden have children. She may be a carrier."

"I rather... think that most of the sufferers have either perished and are being cured in the Halls of Waiting or are in Elvenhome, which makes the preservation of these notes all the more vital," Elrond said. "There is no elvish community of which I have heard tell that admits former thralls of Sauron and Morgoth, regardless of whether or not they have been victims of their torture, without ostracism and restrictions on their further movements. You know this all too well. Those that have been touched by this condition are named cursed and there are few sanctuaries that permit the entry of the cursed."

Glorfindel's face sobered and he turned his head to look at Lindir's subdued expression. They certainly knew this. Even Lindir had not been able to enter Imladris until after extensive negotiations on Mithrandir's part with Elrond. And when Lindir, heavily pregnant with Linden, had been admitted to the realm as a temporary patient, although there had been no express rule about how he and his two children should interact with the other residents, Lindir had later told him that there was a palpable barrier that he had felt between himself, his children, and everything that was Imladris.

"And Ingwë asked you to bring these notes with you?"

"In a sense," Elrond said, leaning back in his seat and propping a foot up on the opposite seat. "Can we change the subject?"

Glorfindel smiled, guessing that he was treading too closely to the reason for Elrond's invite to Ingwë's halls, and obligingly did so. And for the remainder of the next four days of the journey to the foot of the mountain that was called Taniquetil, there was little conversation of consequence.

It was late morning when they at last arrived within sight of the foot of Taniquetil and as Glorfindel caught a glimpse of the distant city, of the many hundreds of white roofs gleaming and glittering under the sunlight nestled in the midst of the flower-dotted greensward that swept the base of the mountain, he stiffened. Not even thinking through what he was doing, he suddenly shouted for the driver to halt.

"What is it?" Elrond asked in bewilderment when as soon as the horses were drawn to the side of the road, Glorfindel pushed past him and opened the door to clambour out of the velvety confined space. He sprang out onto the grass on the side of the road, almost falling over onto his knees into the gleaming grass and heads of bobbing white daises, so stiff were his legs from the long journey. He pushed himself forward against the cool breeze -- nay, lurched like one intoxicated, one hand outstretched on the side of the carriage, supporting his weight. The sunshine was warm on his face, the smell... Yavanna, the smell was... he raised his face to inhale the warmth... the heady sweetness.

"Is this a familiar viewing spot to you?" Elrond called from behind him. Glorfindel heard the carriage shift as first Elrond, then Lindir climbed out, and then he felt Lindir's long hand slip through his arm, the elf's soft hair brush against his arm. He looked down and found Lindir smiling up at him.

"It is Spring out here, though Autumn lies behind us," Lindir said, his hair fluttering slightly in the breeze, soft strands tickling Glorfindel's arm. "And the blossoms are in flower as if they have not done so for many centuries, though I suspect that this place has seen more of Spring than the rest of Valinor. Is that the influence of your people or higher powers?" His gaze slid to look pointedly at the towering mountain, its snow-covered top hidden in a passing cloud.

"It is probably due to the latter, I suspect, though many Vanyar are sworn to the service of the Valar," Glorfindel said, following his gaze. "I had... forgotten about this place." Or rather, he had forgotten about how this place so stirred his heart. And here, he surprised himself at how true seemed the words, at how such an admittance could exist, though how and why he had forgotten he did not know... could not recall. His gaze returned to the gleaming city and he scanned its centre, found the centremost and tallest building in which he knew his grandfather awaited them.

Perhaps this is what it means to come home. Even though I never grew up in this place.

He started when cool fingers brushed over his cheeks, focused on Lindir's slender fingers and saw that the ends were wet. "You are crying," Lindir said, looking up at him, his brow knit in a slight frown.

Glorfindel smiled, hearing the other carriage drawing to a halt behind them. "Crying with wonder," he answered, sliding his arm around Lindir's waist, cupping the hand of the other on the elf's cheek, and leaning down to kiss him. "I have come home."