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Fiondil's Tapestry  by Fiondil

NOTION: Bibelot

SUMMARY: In one Elf’s library lies a most unlikely treasure, one that will be the catalyst for an equally unlikely friendship.

****

"Here."

Gil-galad reached up and pulled a small object from one of the higher shelves in the royal library of Lindon.

He blew on it, raising a miniature dust cloud that had them all coughing. "A little dusty," the king said with a grin.

"A little," Glorfindel said, waving a hand before his face. "How long has it been sitting there, anyway?"

"Hmm... probably since Lindon was founded," Gil-galad said as he handed the object to Glorfindel, who stared at it as it lay in his hands.

It was a book, but quite small, fitting easily in Glorfindel’s palm. Its leather cover had once been dyed a deep green, but now it was faded to a shade that reminded Glorfindel of old copper. The clasp was gold with two inlaid garnets. A design of leaves in gold leaf that was mostly missing graced the front of the book but there was nothing else to indicate what its contents might be.

"Go ahead. Open it," Elrond said. He was standing beside the golden-haired Noldo, an expectant look upon his face.

Glorfindel glanced at the younger elf — No. Peredhel, he reminded himself — still not sure how to relate to this grandson of Turgon. He had been in Lindon for less than a year and he was no closer to understanding Elrond Eärendilion than when he first stepped upon the quay at Mithlond to find his ‘charge’ waiting for him.

"Do you know what’s in here?" he asked, but Elrond shook his head.

"I didn’t even know it existed," the Peredhel said somewhat wistfully, casting a glance at his king, who stood there looking unrepentant.

"I deemed the time was not right, Elrond," Gil-galad said simply. "I was waiting for the right moment."

"Or the right person," Glorfindel retorted, giving the king a knowing look.

"Perhaps," Gil-galad said diffidently, giving them a shrug.

"Well?" Elrond demanded, not even hiding his impatience. "Are you going to open it or not?"

Glorfindel gave the peredhel an amused look and thrust the book at him. "Why don’t you open it?"

Elrond shook his head, actually taking a step back. "No. Gil-galad gave it to you. It is for you to open it."

There it was again. Glorfindel sighed inwardly, wondering how to get past the barrier that Elrond kept between them. No matter how often Glorfindel tried to befriend the younger ellon, there was always an aloofness in Elrond’s manner that prevented it. He cast a glance at Gil-galad who stood there impassively, neither encouraging nor forbidding anything. He had brought them here for a purpose and his part in it ended the moment he handed the miniature book to Glorfindel.

The newest member of Gil-galad’s court nodded and looked at the clasp. "This is locked. Is there a key?" He looked up at Gil-galad and the king fished a small gold key from an inner pocket of his robe, handing it to Glorfindel with a smile. The ellon gave the son of Orodreth an amused look as he shoved the key into the lock and turned it. With an audible snick the clasp opened. Removing the key and handing it to a surprised Elrond, he gingerly opened the book, well aware of its age and the brittleness of its pages.

He gazed at the neat lettering, unfaded even after all this time. It took him a bit to change mental gears and to be able to read the words written in the style and dialect of Western Sindarin as it had been spoken when Finrod was still king of Nargothrond. The Sindarin of Gondolin had been somewhat different in form though not so different from other dialects of Sindarin. Still, the words were somewhat stilted and old-fashioned seeming and it took a few minutes to decipher them. He marveled at the beautiful illuminations that graced some of the pages, and found himself flipping through the book to admire them. So enthralled was he by their exquisite beauty and attention to detail that he quite forgot that there were others in the room with him.

He went back to the first page to re-read the text and found himself blinking as he realized just what was written there. He glanced up at Gil-galad with a question in his eyes. The king merely nodded, well aware of what the ellon was asking. Returning to the book, Glorfindel continued reading, his eyes wide, his heart rate becoming rapid with shock.

"Glorfindel?" Elrond asked in concern, placing a hand on the ellon’s arm. "What’s wrong, mellon nîn?"

The former Balrog-slayer looked up in surprise. It was the first time Elrond had ever used that endearment with him. He thrust the book at the peredhel. "Read this," he demanded and such was the authority with which he spoke that Elrond automatically took the book and began reading.

For a long moment there was only silence between the three ellyn and then as the import of the words he was reading impinged upon Elrond’s mind he gasped, nearly dropping the book in shock. Glorfindel neatly caught the bibelot, giving the younger ellon a sympathetic smile.

"You truly did not know about this?" he asked gently.

Elrond just shook his head, staring at the book in Glorfindel’s hand.

Glorfindel then turned to Gil-galad. "But you knew what was written in here." It was not a question.

"I knew," Gil-galad said simply, giving Elrond a sympathetic look. "I knew because I was there when Eärendil gave it to Círdan for safekeeping until his sons were old enough to read it."

"But why give it to Glorfindel?" Elrond demanded, his voice harsh with barely contained anguish and confusion. "Why did you keep this from me, from both of us?"

"Both....?" Glorfindel gave Gil-galad an enquiring glance, not sure what Elrond was talking about.

"He means his brother, Elros," Gil-galad replied, never taking his eyes off Elrond, his expression impassive and unapologetic.

Glorfindel cringed mentally. To lose one’s twin to death when one was an elf was bad enough, he imagined, but to lose one’s other half to mortality without the hope of ever seeing one another again... that was nearly unimaginable.

"When Elros chose to be counted among the Edain," the king continued, speaking to Elrond, "I deemed it would be... unfair to you both to show either of you this book. Círdan agreed with me and told me a day would come when another would come into your life, Elrond, and then it would be time to share the contents of the book with you both. I have done so. What you do with it is your affair."

With that, the High King of the Noldor in Ennorath gave them a short bow and left, his robes sweeping behind him. For a moment the two ellyn remained silent and then Glorfindel handed the book back to Elrond. "This belongs to you," he said, "but when you are finished reading it I would like to read it as well. I remember Eärendil as a child, I would like to know him better as a man." He refrained from mentioning his meeting with Eärendil in Aman long before his return to Ennorath.

Elrond gingerly took the book, a diary actually, in which his adar had recorded his thoughts, hopes and dreams as he roved across Belaegar in search of Aman and the Belain to solicit their help against the Enemy and save what could be saved of the Elves and their Edain allies.

He looked up at the golden-haired ellon who frightened him on some level he could not name or understand and made a decision, one that would change the course of history, though he was little aware of it. "Perhaps we can read it together," he suggested hesitantly.

Glorfindel nodded, secretly pleased at this small overture of friendship from Elrond. "I would like that." Then he gestured and together they found a table where they could sit together and pore over the little treasure that had lain hidden on a dusty shelf for over twelve hundred years.

****

All words are Sindarin.

Peredhel: Half-elven.

Mellon nîn: My friend.

Ennorath: Middle-earth.

Belaegar: The Great Ocean between Middle-earth and Valinor.

Belain: Valar.

Note: Bibelot: A small object of curiosity, beauty or rarity; a miniature book, especially one that is finely crafted. Pronounced BEE-buh-low or bee-BLOW.





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