Lost and Found

Title: Lost and Found (Secret Friend Fic for Lindir Yahoo Group)
For: Anestel
Author: Krit
Contact: kritblack1@yahoo.ca
Pairing/request: Lindir/Figwit (Melpomaen), no wizards or dwarves
Ratings/Warnings: NC-17 (not too graphic), slash, AU.
Summary: I’ve always found it odd that Figwit had two names… I read somewhere that he went by Figwit because he couldn’t remember his original name (Whether there is truth to this I have no idea)… this is my explanation for it
Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t profit and don’t have permission to play with – but I’m a rebel and can’t control myself.
Note: First, Anestel, I hope you like it. Second, I used the Encyclopedia of Arda (http://www.glyphweb.com/arda/default.htm) to create a history along with locations and names – I have no idea if Orodreth Felogund had a son – this is pure fantasy. Third, this is beta’d only by myself, all mistakes are mine and mine alone; I cling to them devotedly because for some reason I get a kick out of re-reading my work and laughing at my own stupidity *shrugs*. Fourth, this is much shorter than originally intended as my muse was refusing to cooperate and I couldn’t incorporate all the parts I wanted to due to lack of filler and inspiration – so it’s missing some stuff… sorry about that.
Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t profit and don’t have permission to play with – but I’m a rebel and can’t control myself.

********** Just so you know, when you encounter these stars near the end, I was tempted to end the fic there, but reconsidered for two reasons. 1) I had already done some research and constructed a fictional background so I wanted to use it and 2) I thought it was rather mean to end it at that point *smiles sweetly* but I was really really tempted. Now on with the fic…


~Lost and Found~

Elrond sighed, re-reading the letter a third time before turning his attention to his two most trusted friends. Setting the letter down on lightly maple wood desk before him he steepled his hands and tilted his head back to stare at the intricately carved ceiling. After a moments contemplation he fixed his gaze once more on the two elves across from him.

"Glorfindel, Erestor. We... have a slight dilemma. The young elf that is currently waiting in the hall... needs our assistance. The Lord and the Lady of the Golden Wood are unable to help him and are hopeful that we may be of aid."

"What seems to be the problem?" This from Erestor, always the one to get to the heart of the matter.

"He... is lacking in social skills, has never spoken more than perhaps twenty or thirty words since entering the Golden wood, and he's been there almost two years, he cannot remember where he comes from, who he is or anything else that would help determine his identity or where he hails from. We know he was found in the forest of Brethil and traveled from there with gypsies until they reached Lothlorien and stayed there among the other elves. We also know is he is educated, he can read, speaks both common and elvish, and understands what is being said. According to Celeborn he keeps to himself, prefers solitude and does not willingly interact with anyone. Both Galadriel and Celeborn have tried to speak with him, Galadriel has even gone so far as to attempt to read his memories. Unfortunately nothing has worked and so they have sent him here, hoping that we would be able to assist him in learning to interact and perhaps eventually recall his memory."

Elrond waited as Glorfindel and Erestor absorbed this information. A slight shifting from his Captain caused Elrond to direct his gaze expectantly at the blonde elf, waiting for Glorfindel to speak.

"Perhaps a guide, someone to introduce this new arrival to the valley, give him a tour, make friends with him. Someone Friendly, outgoing and able to bring him out of his shell, if that is possible."

"And who would you recommend for this position?"

"Lindir.” This from Erestor. "He is bright, friendly and well liked by everyone. He would make an excellent guide."

Elrond nodded, thinking the suggestions sound. "Lindir it is. Glorfindel, would you please find Lindir and bring him here. We will advise him of the situation and then introduce the two. Erestor, if you could arrange for quarters to be preparext ext to Lindirs and have a few items supplied to our newest guest, I do not believe he has brought many possessions with him. A few items of clothing, a light meal and anything else that may be required."

Elrond watched the two elves leave to fulfill their respective tasks before once again picking up the letter from Celeborn, idly wondering what this new arrival had in store for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lindir walked through the corridors of the last homely house, Imladris’ newest arrival by his side. They had just left Lord Elronds offices, Lindir having been summoned for the very purpose of seeing to the new elf’s comforts, advised of his unique situation and would begin showing him around the valley and familiarizing him with the household the following morning. As they navigated the halls, headed towards the housing quarters Lindir took a moment to scrutinize his new charge out of the corner of his eye, taking in the dusty clothing and small frame, bowed head and reserved countenance. Underneath the layers of dust gathered on the road was dark, wind mussed hair, and pale skin. The rest of his features where hidden by the constantly bowed head, as if he was deliberately concealing himself from scrutiny. He had not spoken once while in Lindirs presence, which Lindir had been led to expect. Reaching their destination Lindir stopped in front of the second door in the hallway. Pressing down on the metal handle he pushed the door inward, ushering his silent companion inside.

“These will be your quarters during your stay in Imladris, feel free to decorate them as you wish. There is a small bathing chamber through that door there.” Lindir indicated a door to his right, next to which had been placed the small satchel belonging to the new elf, before turning once more to his companion. “The private bathing rooms are very small and most people choose to use the public pools instead. If you wish to use the pools just go to the far end of the corridor and turn left. The pools are at the end of that hallway.” Lindir pointed across the room towards the double doors that were made of glass and covered with white linen drapes. “Through there is the common balcony which is connected to all the rooms along this hall. There are only seven other elves housed in this section at the moment so it is not overly crowded and the view is exquisite.” Motioning to the table close to the double doors leading to the balcony Lindir continued. “Should you feel hungry there is a light meal here for you. I shall leave you to rest and freshen up; as I am sure you are tired from your travels. I will come to fetch you in theningning for breakfast, which is held in the main dinning room and ten give you a tour of the house and surrounding area. If you need anything at all, please let me know. My room is directly next to yours, on tightight.”

A nod was the only response and Lindir smiled gently before turning towards the doorway to leave the other elf to his rest. Pausing in the doorway he turned once more towards the other and smiled again, not that the other could see as his gaze appeared to be permanently fixed on his feet.

“Welcto Ito Imladris Figwit, I hope you like it here.” Closing toor oor behind him Lindir moved down one door to the right and entered his own quarters to do some more work on his current composition before beginning preparations for bed.

Lindir forced himself to refrain from sighing in agitation. The entire day had been spent in a one sided conversation, with him doing all the talking and Figwit doing nothing, even an occasional smile or some other form of response would have been welcome, but all he had received was a silent, ghost like follower. If he hadn't been assured by Erestor that Figwit could indeed hear he would have thought him deaf. He had been warned that the young elf did not speak, but he hadn't quite grasped the complete implications of being in charge of someone who was constantly silent. He had arrived at Figwits door first thing that morning to escort the young elf to breakfast and had gotten his first good look at the quite dark haired elf. .
Figwits hair was extremely thick, hip length and an unflattering mousey brown color. His eyes were just a little too close together and were an ordinary brown. His nose was just a little too long and the eyebrows seemed set too high to really suit his face. Added to this was the added roundness to his cheeks, the darker skin tone that was rarely seen among the first born, the stockier build and shorter stature, the younger elf was almost a full head shorter than Lindir - and Lindir was considered to be on the shorter side so it was rare he encountered an elf shorter than himself. His first thought had been 'homely', which had been immediately followed by guilt for thinking such a thing.

After spending the entire day touring Imladris and showing Figwit the house, gardens, stables and talking constantly to fill the silence Lindir found himself once again seated in the dining hall beside his charge, reflecting on the day they had spent together. Through out the day Lindir had felt Figwits gaze on him almost constantly, but when he had turned to look the young elf had been looking elsewhere and Lindir had been left to wonder if he had been imagining things until the next time the sensation of being watched had assailed him - by the end of the day he would have giving anything in his possession to know what thoughts were running through Figwits mind.

At the moment he was watg Fig Figwit, as was almost everyone else in the hall, as he ate his dinner with his fingers, demonstrating his lack of social etiquette. It was at that moment, when Figwit was eating his grilled mushrooms with his right hand and holding a small gob of mashed potatoes with his left, that Lindir vowed he would help this lost soul find himself, or at the very least to learn to eat in a manner that was not so morbidly fascinating.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lindir kept true to his word and over the following three months spent several hours wiigwiigwit each day. The first week of Figwits arrival had been spent on minor things such as acquainting the younger elf with the household and its occupants, teaching him how to use a fork and knife, and other such mundane things. Later he had been assigned a minor post in the library, where he would catalog the vast supply of books to better organize them for Erestor during the morning. The afternoons were spent with Lindir, walking the grounds of the Last Homely House and surrounding valley area while the evenings would find them seated side by side as they ate and later they would be found together in the hall of fire; Figwit seated close by while Lindir entertained with songs and tales for the ever attentive audience. It was becoming obvious to any who cared to see that the quiet new arrival was become increasingly smitten with the silver haired, green eyed minstrel, and yet still Figwit would not speak, not a single word to anyone.
At the end of Figwits first month in Imladris Lindir had expressed his frustration at still having not heard a single word from his charge only to be reassured and informed that it had taken the elves of Lothlorien over a year to elicit a sound from the silent elf, and had until then thought him to be mute. Hoping to encourage some form of communication Lindir had then attempted to get the silent elf to converse with him using a quill and parchment, which had earned him a confused, almost injured look. After that he had stopped attempting to elicit responses from Figwit, had instead smiled and gone back to his continuous, one sided conversations, waiting for the time when Figwit would choose to communicate. It was over the course of the last several weeks that Lindir had found himself becoming more and more drawn to the quiet elf. Although Figwit did not have the dazzling beauty of most of the first born he had become more and more beautiful every time Lindir saw him until one day he began to question the possibility of falling in love with an elf who was reserved, ba res responsive and spoke not at all. He had spent the majority of that morning considering this sudden thought before pushing it to the back of his mind as he ventured to Figwits room to meet for their afternoon together.

It was that same afternoon that Figwit decided to unexpectedly break his silence. He and Lindir had ventured away from the house to all all quiet glade beside the Bruinen. Figwit was leaning against a tree with a thick leather book and a sharpened pencil that he had taken to carrying with him several weeks prior and was diligently writing in it. Lindir had been lying on his back a few feet away, gazing at the clouds and laughingly recounting a conversation he had had with Mebdir, one of the other Imladris Minstrels.

"And you'll never guess what he said." Pausing to take a breath his entire train of thought was interrupted when Figwit actually spoke, almost so softly the Lindir was afraid that he had imagined it.
You You talk a lot."

Lindir twisted his head to the side and sat up, staring disbelieving at the still figure beside the tree. "What?" This barely a whisper.

A moments hesitation, and then it came again, "You talk a lot." The voice was a whisper, rusty from lack of use and odd sounding coming from an elf, but the sound filled Lindir with such joy that he could do naught but smile, a small half laugh escaping him at the simplicity of it all. Figwit smiled back, making eye contact, before returning to his leather book. Lindir continued to stare at him for several more minutes before lying back down and resuming his cloud gazing in silence, pondering his reticent companion.

After that day Figwit made remarkable progress, more so than any could have expected. True, he did not go out of his way to engage in conversa but but at least he no longer remained silent. He would answer questions, admittedly hesitantly and in short concise sentences after contemplating what he wished to say, but he spoke. It was most obvious that he preferred Lindirs company above all others and the two took to spending more time together, Lindirs affections growing more with each passing day until one afternoon, early in the autumn season things changed.


Figwit and Lindir were headed to the glade where Figwit had said those first words when Figwit tentatively proposed a challenge.

“Race you to the glade?”

Lindir flashed him a quick grin before breaking out into a sprint, laughter and his long silver hair trailing behind him. Weaving in and out of the trees as they ran, Lindir was confident of his victory both because he was one of the fastest elves in Imladris but also because his legs just happened to be longer. They were less than half a league from the glade when Figwit suddenly overtook Lindir, swiftly leaving him behind. Lindir reached the glade almost a full minute later, finding Figwit leaning against his preferred tree and smiling with pleasure. Grinning back Lindir approached at a walk, shaking his head as he reached the tree. Whether it was the exaltation from the run or Figwits smiling face and dancing eyes Lindir didn’t know, all he knew was that one moment he was smiling back at Figwit and the next he was kissing him.

For a single heat beat the lips beneath his were unresponsive and the body tense and Lindir felt fear course through his veins at having just made a horrible, monstrous mistake, but just as that thought entered his mind Figwit kissed him back, sagging into his body, lips turning soft and yielding beneath his assault. Arms rose up to encircle waist and neck, bodies melded and breath grew ragged until Figwit suddenly stiffened and wrenched away, ducking from Lindirs embraced and moving like a shot to another tree some several feet away. Resting his back against the tree he sat down, drawing his knees to his chest and watching Lindir warily.

Turning Lindir regarded hi companion, taking a moment to calm his racing heart.

“Figwit..?” Raising his hand Lindir took a small step towards the seated elf only to stop abruptly at the negative shake of the others head.

“I… we can’t.”

Lindir sat down, staring in bewilderment at the distant young elf.
“Why not?”

“I don’t know who I am.”

“It doesn’t matter, not to me. I care about you. I… I love you Figwit”

“It matters to me. What if…” Figwit paused, desperately trying to find the words to explain his thoughts. Eventually he continued in a tormented whisper. “What if I remember… and I’m not… not someone you like. What if I’m evil, or married or…” Again he stopped as though suddenly realizing the entirety of Lindirs sentence, his voice dropping even lower. “And how can you love me… I’m no one, I have nothing. Not even my name is my own…” Trailing off miserably he pressed his forehead against his knees, his thick brown hair falling about him like a protective curtain.

Lindirs heart constricted at the sight, but he did not hesitate and moved immediately to the dejected elf’s side. Kneeling he rested on hand on Figwits shoulder and waited until the other looked at him.

“It doesn’t matter. We can deal with that when, and if it happens.” Dark green eyes stared into brown. “We have the here and now, let that be enough for the moment.”

Minutes which seemed like hours passed as the two studied each other, finally Figwit gave a hesitant smile and a barely perceptible nod. Returning the smile Lindir stood and offered his hand, pulling his beloved close. Hand in hand the walked back to the house, neither speaking, merely enjoyine ote others company.


The next few weeks where subdued, with Lindirs attempt at deepening their relationship being met with awkwardness insecurity and fear. Figwits constant concern and worry over recalling his past kept him from allowing himself to get close to Lindir, no matter how much his soul yearned for the love and affection being offered, and how his heart beseeched him to love in turn, until everything eventually reached a culmination one mid-fall evening.

Lord nd hnd had announced an impromptu feast as Arwen was planning on departing for Lothln ton to spend several season with her grandparents and Elrond wanted to give her a proper send off. After dinner the gathering had moved outside to enjoy the singing and dancing under the star lit sky, with four large bonfires and countless tall torches being lit to provide light. Figwit could be found along the edges of the crowd, watching the dancing and revelry although steadfastly refusing Lindirs attempts to join in. While he would normally join the other minstrels and story tellers Lindir had instead chosen to spend the evening mingling with the merrymakers, more out the desire to spend more time with Figwit than anything else. Spying the object of his affections across the yard Lindir excused himself from his current conversation and ventured to his side.

Circling around so he came up behind his love Lindir slipped an arm around his waist and joined in observing the couples dancing about the center bonfire. Smiling he turned to request a dance but found the word frozen in his throat at the stricken look in Figwits eyes. Glancing again at the dancers that seem to be holding his loves attention he saw Arwen and Glorfindel dancing in the firelight, performing one of the more ancient dances that were rarely seen now, one that Glorfindel hamembmembered from his first life and deigned to teach to those willing to learn. Even as he watched, Arwen spun in repeated circles, her dress swirling around her calves, hair flying, eyes dancing in merriment and laughter of pure joy falling from her lips. A ragged sob from the elf at his side brought Lindirs gaze back to Figwit and he watched, dumbfounded, as tears gathered in the brown eyes he loved so much and Figwit began to shake his head from side to side, a look of horror falling over his face. Opening his mouth to inquire to what was ailiis lis love he was shocked to be brusquely thrust away, stumbling slightly as Figwit disappeared into the night. A desperate plea in the form of a name falling from his lips Lindir began to give chase, although knowing deep inside that he would not be able to catch the fleeing elf.

“Figwit!” Dashing into the trees after the dark haired elf he quickly lost site of his quarry, letting another desperate cry, and then another fall from his lips. “Figwit. Figwit! FIGWIT!”


Morning came and went. Afternoon melded into evening. Night fell and still there was no sign of Figwit. Glorfindel had arranged a scouting party to search for him, but no trace could be found. Erestor said it was probably because Figwit had lived in a forest for Valar knew how long, before he had been found and brought to Lothlorien. Lindir cared not for the reason; he only wanted Figwit to return, for this knot of dread and misgiving to disappear from his gut. He was torn between joining the search parties or remaining at the house, eventually deciding to remain close for Figwit would return eventually, whether with the search party or on his own, but he would return. He had to!

It was late the following afternoon that Lindir saw the figure crossing the main bridge to the front courtyard. He had been watching avidly from the master balcony overlooking the courtyard for any sign of his love and the sight of the lone, dark haired figure drawing nearer and nearer to the house caused his heart to pound. Whirling he raced into the house and down the stairs leading to the entrance. Coming to the front stone doors he paused. Drawing a deep breath he walked through the doorway and down the front steps, meeting Figwit at the bottom.

Lindir smiled nervously, his worried green eyes meeting the brown of Figwits. The coolness of that look, combined with the confident posture that seemed so foreign to the Figwit he knew caused his stomach to churn, the knot of dread which had started to loosen returning twofold. Lindirs eyes swept the stiff form in front of him as an assurance to his well being before he stepped forward.

“Figwit?!?!”

“I need to speak with Lord Elrond.”

Lindir only nodded at the formally spoken request, ignoring the chill that seemed to freeze the blood in his veins and stop his heart cold. Gathering his composure he turned, presenting his back to the stranger in front of him so the tears in his eyes would not be noticed.

“He is in the Library, I shall accompany you there.” With measured steps Lindir lead the way, pointedly aware of the presence following behind him.

Knocking at the Library’s closed door he waited for permission to enter before opening the heavy wooden door. Smiling sadly he moved aside to allow Figwit entrance.

“Figwit would like a word my Lord.”

“My name is not Figwit!”

Elrond nodded, motioning for Lindir to leave them, before directing his attention to the elf before him. Casting one last, longing look at the elf he had known only as Figwit, had desperately loved but who was no longer known to him, Lindir slowly exited the Library. Closing the door behind him Lindir heading for hrivarivate chambers where he could shed his tears of despair in solitude.

**********


Figwit walked the halls of Elronds home several hours later, slowly making his way to Lindirs rooms. Having remembered his past, and with it being what it was he had immediately sought out Lord Elrond, desperate to gain answers to his many questions. His manner towards Lindir had been unforgivable, but he had been in a state of shock and had resorted to old, long forgotten habits to deal with it. Now, after sorting through everything with the Half-elven lord he needed to make amends and explain everything to the silver haired minstrel. Upon reaching his destination he lingered in front of the door, building up his courage to knock.

He listened as soft footstep moved towards the door, forcing himself to stand firm and ignore the urge to run and hide, he waited until the door opened. Silence, which had once been so comforting, stretched between them threatening to drown him. He cleared his throat, smiling awkwardly at the elf before him.

“May I come in? I… need to speak with you.”

Lindir turned and disappeared inside the room, leaving the door open in his wake. Stepping though the door and closing it behind him the dark haired elf watched Lindir seat himself in one of the large, wing backed chairs by the cold hearth, fidgeting under the impassive look that was directed at him. Moving further into the room he walked to stand before the seated elf with only a few steps separating them. Crouching he looked into the dark green eyes he was so familiar with and cringed at the hurt and despair lurking there. Clearing his throat he began his tale.

“My real name is Melpomaen. I am the only son of Orodreth Felogund and hail from the fallen citadel of Nargothrond, was the captain of the cities guards. As you know the city… fell”. Here he paused as the memories, fresh once more in his mind, threatened to overwhelm him. Collecting himself he continued. “I will not recount what is already known to you as history, but when we were suffering defeat by the servants of Morgoth our people tried to flee. We… I… t-tried to provide safe passage, but…” He stopped again and bowed his head, unable to continue. A movement followed by gentle hands on his shoulder caused him to look up, directing a watery smile at the compassionate elf who knelt before him.

“I failed. I was struck down and left for dead. I was unconscious for… I am not sure for how long, but when I awoke the citadel was in ruins and the fires had dwindled to embers. There was no one left, just the dead. So I left. I don’t remember much after that… perhaps madness took me, I do not know, I just forgot, forgot everything. The faces, the friends and loved ones… gone from my memory as if they had never been. Hidden from me as Nargothrond had once been hidden from the enemy.” He stopped there, waiting for the questions that would come.

“Why did you run?”

“The dancing. It was the way it was done. My mother and father were dancing the same dance the night the battle std… td… the bonfire, the laughter. Elrond believes it was a trigger, once I recalled that the rest was like a landslide – it just happened. I… was beset with these images, and I ran… I am sorry I just…” He shrugged. “I could not stop myself.”

Lindir smiled softly, his expression guarded. “And what of us? Of you and me… is there still a you and me?”

Lindirs heart quickened at the loving and hopeful gaze that was directed towards him. “I hope so. My feelings have not changed, only my past and certain parts of who I am. If you… if you think there is a chance that you can still…” Soft, eager lips silenced him as he was engulfed in a loving kiss, each elf pouring their heart and soul into the kiss. Separating their lips Lindir pressed their foreheads together, a heart felt “Yes” escaping along with his erratic breathing. Pulling back he made eye contact again.

“I fell in love with you. That has not changed, nor will it. I love you, for now, for always.”

When their lips met a second time it was clear that the passion, which had been building for weeks was about to overflow and spill out. Reigning in the frayed tatters of his control Melpomaen pulled back once more to seek assurance.

“Are you sure”.

Clear confident green eyes sparkled. “I am sure.”

A blinding smile graced Melpomaens face before he dragged Lindir against him once more, elation taking him as his heart and soul rejoiced as the freedom to love and be love was finally granted.

Clothing was slowly divested to reveal warm skin, each seemingly fascinated by the differences in their forms. Lindir was pale and slender, his skin smooth and unblemished where as Melpomaen was broader and more muscular, his skin tanned from long years spent in the sun and marked with the scars of battle.

Hands slowly mapped body, learning each other by both touch and sight. Soon lips followed hands to add taste and scent to their knowledge. Whispered words, moans and pleas filled the room as the passion between the built, and it was with a mixture of both regret and relief the Lindir finally sheathed himself in the tight heat of his love beneath him. Using one hand to brace himself Lindir wrapped the other around the stiff length pressed between their bodies, his body moving of its own accord. Dipping his head he kissed Melpomaen deeply capturing the sweet sounds of pleasure as he increased the pace of their love making guided them towards a tumultuous climax.

Afterwards they had lain in the dimly lit room, the sun creeping along the horizon, gradually giving birth to the new day, gentle rays caressing entwined limbs as the two lovers smiled lazily at each other. Pressing a loving kiss to the soft lips before him Melpomaen reflect on the recent events and marveled that a saying he had once heard, thousands of years ago still held true for him now. Things that are lost are eventually found, perhaps not by the same person they once belonged to, and maybe not even in the same condition, but everything has a place, it just needs to find it.

THE END!