Chapter 3: Some who wander are lost

Elrond gritted his teeth and restrained the words on his tongue. Releasing his death grip on the chair arm, he rose and joined Elladan on the balcony. This effectively stopped his son’s pacing and caught his attention.

“I am sorry, Adar,” said Elladan immediately. He sighed. “I am sorry for having to apologize… again.”

“Elladan, what is on your mind? You pace the halls like a trapped animal.” When Elladan did not answer, Elrond held his arm out to the waterfalls and mountains. “You are no prisoner! Do you wish to explore? If I knew what you desired, I would help to arrange it for you!”

Elladan slumped against the balustrade and bowed his head. When he looked up, his thoughts were hidden. “Allow me to consider it, Adar.” His eyes strayed into the room where Celebrían and Elrohir sat together, looking again at the pictures and letters they had brought with them. “Perhaps taking a short journey would be helpful.”

“Away from Elrohir?” probed Elrond.

Elladan looked at him thoughtfully, as if this was an idea he had not considered. “I wonder, Adar….” His eyes brightened with a new gleam. “Perhaps….” His voice trailed off again. “May I be excused?”

Elrond nearly rolled his eyes at the formality of his son’s words. “Of course you may.” He choked back the rest of what he wished to say. He felt as if he were standing on the opposite bank of a river from his sons and the wind was carrying off their words, leaving only a semblance of conversation that neither side understood.

Returning to the sitting room, Elrond took his chair again. Celeborn, Galadriel and Celebrían all watched him expectantly, as if he might explain what had just been said, but Elrohir’s eyes remained fixed on the letter he was holding.

“I asked Elladan if he wished to take a journey. He expressed interest.”

At this, Elrohir did look up. There was a questioning look in his face, a spark of interest. “Did he say where he wished to go?”

“No,” answered Elrond.

Elrohir excused himself a few minutes later.

As soon as the door shut, Celebrían shoved aside the parchments and sighed. “I did not expect them to be like this.”

Celeborn looked grave. “This is new, whatever is wrong with or between them. I did not see any such signs until just a few months ago.”

Elrond forced his tongue to work. “Was it Arwen . . .?”

“Perhaps,” answered Celeborn. “Not her, but her . . . death. The last months of her life. Then the day we sailed, there was great turmoil in Elladan and between him and Elrohir.”

Elrond wished to speak more to Celeborn, but he felt Celebrían’s distress at this topic, and that of their daughter. He sat beside her, pulled her close, and calmed her and the child. Their daughter was drawing much energy from her mother, and he marveled that so tiny a person could need - and command – so much.

“Elladan is discontented and restless,” said Celebrían tiredly. “A journey may serve him well. Elwing and Eärendil would welcome him, and I think they would be good for him.”

“I think they would be also.” Elrond stroked her hair. He suspected that Elladan’s restlessness came from the choice he had made, one with which he was not entirely content. Eärendil would understand.

“And Elrohir?” asked Celeborn.

“I think Elladan should go alone,” murmured Celebrían. “Though I would gladly escort him. I love Elwing’s tower and the birds . . ..”

They all laughed, and Celebrían smiled. “I expect my energy to return, soon.” She yawned.

Elrond laughed and ignored her protests as he swept her up in his arms. “You need to sleep, beloved. I consider it my honor and duty to see you safely to your bed.”

With a nod to the others, Elrond took Celebrían to their rooms. He helped her undress and brushed her hair, and then tucked her in bed. She fell asleep almost instantly, and he kissed her. “I love you, my Celebrían.” She smiled in her dreams.

He walked past the suite of rooms their sons shared, and found their door open. They were speaking, and despite a momentary guilt at eavesdropping, he stopped and listened.

“What do you intend?” asked Elrohir.

“I think a journey is a good idea,” replied Elladan. “I need time to think.”

“For how long?”

“I do not know, Elrohir! Consider your options again, brother. There is more strength in you than you know. It will be better for you if I am gone.”

“Will it be better for you?”

There was a long pause. “Yes,” answered Elladan curtly.

Elrohir’s voice was so soft that Elrond could barely hear his reply. “Then go with my blessing. I hope you find the answers you seek.”

“You need to seek out what it is you want,” answered Elladan, a sharp edge to his voice.

Elrond could not hear what Elrohir said next, but Elladan’s voice was gentle when he replied. “Sleep, little brother.”

Elrond continued down the hall and a moment later heard Elladan behind him. “Adar, I wish to take your advice.” Elrond slowed and waited for his son to catch up with him.

“Your naneth suggested that you travel to visit Elwing’s tower. Eärendil and Elwing would welcome you.”

Elladan’s eyes brightened. “A wonderful idea! Yes, Adar. Why did I not think of that before?”

Elrond laughed, relief flowing through him. Seeing joy in his son lightened his own heart. He should have known that Elladan might be more like Eärendil, have restlessness that would have to be managed. And who better to teach his son than his sire?

Elrohir he could manage, he thought. What Elladan needed he could not provide. Elladan was more predictable, more easily read. They needed to channel his energy and unrest, and he would find his way. Elrohir, though, held his feelings close and if allowed to build up walls, he could be impossible to guide. Elrond would need to begin chipping away at those walls now, and that might be easier done if Elladan were away. Thus far, both of his sons had held them at a distance. In that they seemed united, despite a growing unrest between them.

Nonetheless, he would find a way to help them both.

* * *

The next evening, Elladan was much calmer. He had spent the day gathering information about the lands from Erestor and others in the house, and then joined the family. Elrond was relieved by the lack of pacing and pleased that purpose had brought about such a change.

“You say there is a road that winds along the shore, Naneth?” he asked as he pored over a map.

“Road may be too kind a word for it in places.” Celebrían laughed. “I was happy to sail up the coast after my experience going by land.”

Elladan’s eyes gleamed. “I prefer to sail. I understand now how sea-faring can get into the blood.”

“Passage can be arranged from the Teleri at Alqualondë,” began Galadriel.

“No, thank you, Daernaneth,” interrupted Elladan hastily. “I do not wish to be baggage on anyone’s ship. The Alphir lies in the harbor at Avallónë still. I will see to her outfitting and sail her up the coast.”

“I would like to sail with you and see these lands,” said Celeborn. “Would you have your grandfather back as shipmate?”

Elladan’s smile lit his whole face. “I would like that, Daeradar, though I do not know how long I will be gone for. You have not had much time to make acquaintance with the many relatives who wish to see you.”

“Nor have you. They can wait. And Elwing is my kin also.”

Elladan nodded, conceding the point.

Celeborn turned to Galadriel. “Is there a way that word can be sent to Ulmo, so he knows in advance that Glorfindel will not be with us?”

Elladan laughed, Celeborn joining him, until tears ran down their faces. “Do you think Ulmo would like to teach Glorfindel that there is some skill required in sailing, even in Aman?” choked out Elladan.

Galadriel smiled. “Glorfindel is fearless and full of joy, and his faith in the Valar runs deeper than most. He would gladly learn from Ulmo, but the sea is not his passion.”

“I do not know if we would survive their ‘lessons’,” answered Elladan. “Though I suppose Ulmo would need to explain to Namo if Glorfindel showed up in his Halls again because Ulmo was too tough a taskmaster! But Glorfindel is not here, so there is no question of his accompanying us anyway.” He paused and smiled. “I will long treasure the memory of seeing his face when he first saw his brother and mother. Erestor had to lend him an arm to keep him from swooning.”

“Especially so when he learned his brother had married and had children. He could hardly wait to meet them,” added Elrond. “Back to sailing – is two enough to sail your ship, Elladan?”

“Three would be better, but two can manage.”

“Your grandmother is a competent sea woman,” said Celebrían.

Elladan turned to Galadriel. “Would you join us, Daernaneth?”

“I have sailed the coast several times since returning. I will be your navigator,” she said, and laughed.

The house was in a merry uproar for several days, as plans were made and the ship outfitted and provisioned. When Elrond looked at Elladan, climbing in the rigging, strong and tanned, he was reminded sharply of a young Elros preparing to captain his first ship. He saw the same joy that had blossomed Elros from a child to an adult, filling him with a passion that never ceased.

The ship set sail at dawn’s first light. Many of Elrond’s house had come to see these three off, for the joy of Elladan’s first adventure in his new home had brought smiles to many. As Elrond waved to them, Celebrían at his side, he realized that Elrohir was nowhere in sight.

They returned home and Celebrían went to rest, as was her wont at this time of day. The day wore on and lunch and dinner passed, and still Elrohir did not appear. It was not until the sun had set that Elrond began to wonder if something might be amiss. He had told Celebrían that Elrohir was out and she had been satisfied, but he was not.

He found Erestor in the gardens. After greeting him, he asked, “Have you seen Elrohir today?”

“He left a note on my desk, indicating that he would be gone for a few days. Did he not tell you?” replied Erestor in surprise.

“He did not speak to me, but perhaps I overlooked a missive.” Elrond returned inside and went to his study, and there he found a folded note in his son’s handwriting. He read it and showed it to Erestor, who had followed him inside.

“Identical to mine,” said Erestor. “Why would Elrohir leave without speaking to you?”

Elrond was pondering that very question. “I do not know.”

* * *

Celeborn watched Elladan set the sail, climbing nimbly about the mast as if he were born on the sea. There was an air about him, of freedom, and the joy that came with it. Galadriel slipped her arm through his and he looked into her eyes, and she was as young again as she had been in Doriath when first they met. She too was free – free of the weight of Nenya and of power, free of the sea longing and the weariness that had burdened her. The wind in their hair and the call of the gulls above them somehow made this more clear to him than these first few months being reunited with her had.

“That is because your own weariness falls away and your sight grows keen,” said Galadriel, reading his thoughts. “An experience I have learned is common to all who come from the east.”

“Then I have hope for our grandsons.” Celeborn looked again at the ebony hair blowing around a sail, all of Elladan he could see. “His vision is perhaps clearing, and he sees that there is hope here for him.”

Galadriel looked thoughtful. “Yet his mind is still guarded and his most intimate thoughts he shares with no one.”

“He shared them with Elrohir, but that seems to be part of what he wished to be freed from.”

“I do not know if that is because Elrohir perceives thoughts Elladan wishes to keep hidden, or if Elladan feels burdened by what is in Elrohir’s mind.” Galadriel laughed softly. “Celebrían wonders how she and Elrond could so rashly have conceived a child now, when it turns out all is not well in their household.”

“And what did you tell her?” asked Celeborn, a grin tugging at his lips.

“I told her that rashly conceived children are full of joy and a blessing beyond measure, and she cannot yet see what effect this daughter will have on their household.”

Celeborn laughed. “I hope this child is a reflection of her mother. These lands could use more hastily conceived children and the impetuousness they bring.”

“I hope she is just like naneth,” added Elladan as he jumped to the deck.

“You have said little about this child,” said Galadriel. “I wondered if you found their decision a bit hasty.”

Elladan laughed. “I could conclude that their happiness at seeing us gave them a burning desire for another child just like us, or perhaps seeing our fair faces led to them think their memories faulty and they thought they might do better in these lands. But what I know is that they are happy and I am glad.”

They had rounded Tol Eressea and were heading north towards the havens at Alqualondë when Celeborn noted the many white ships sailing the seas in the harbor. They appeared to be very similar in style. Their own ship was made by the Men of Dol Amroth, and she was sleek and fast, and had a different look from these elven ships.

“On our voyage here, Daeradar, we really never tested this ship for speed,” said Elladan suddenly.

“It did not seem fitting then, somehow,” replied Celeborn.

“It does seem – remiss – of us now, however,” added Galadriel. “A captain and crew should know what their ship is capable of.”

That was enough for Elladan. Celeborn gave the wheel to Galadriel, for she knew the waters, and he joined Elladan in adjusting the sails. Their speed increased, and Galadriel drew near enough to shore to make the Teleri ships aware of them. One ship called a greeting to them, and Elladan responded by waving a white flag at them.

The challenge was accepted and the race began! Their ship had a head start, but their competitor was skilled and knew well the winds on the bay. Within minutes they had gathered the wind beneath their sails and launched towards the Alphir. Several other ships recognized the beginning of the impromptu race, and blew horns as they joined.

The second ship drew near, eager faces full of joy at meeting a new ship. Twice they pulled out into the lead, and Elladan used every trick learned from Imrahil’s sons to push the Alphir back out front.

“To the point!”

“To the point!” answered Galadriel and both crafts turned eastward away from the craggy shoreline to the northeastern point of the bay.

The two ships fought neck and neck, and which one won was impossible to tell as they flew past the point together. Then they maneuvered the crafts closer together to speak.

“An odd looking ship. Where does your Swan-Knight hail from?” called an elf.

“She hails from the finest havens of Men in Middle-earth,” replied Elladan, and he bowed.

The elves' eyes widened, for never had a ship of Men come to their shores. “How came Ulmo to allow such a thing?” they asked in wonder.

Elladan laughed. “Some day perhaps we will come and tell you the tale!” he called.

“Lord Celeborn!” another called. “Galadriel, granddaughter of Olwe!” said another.

Celeborn laughed as these elves looked upon them in awe. He found he enjoyed their wonder! Let them look! Those who had lingered long were no less than any other elf of the west!

“Farewell!” called Galadriel. She laughed and Celeborn felt the joy of that sound fill them. Such freedom! The elves stumbled over each other bowing to her, but his Galadriel had already turned her sights north.

~ ~ ~***~ ~ ~

When Elrohir had not returned after three days, Elrond began quietly seeking news of him. A growing unease had crept over him, along with a distant, discordant feeling as near to anger as he would admit. It was not that Elrohir had felt the need to be away, he told himself, but that he had not had the courtesy to tell them where he had gone.

It was eve of the fourth day when he returned. He entered the house quietly and after sending word to his father, he went to his rooms. Elrond had given him an hour to refresh himself, and then went to him.

He knocked softly on the door, but there was no answer. He entered anyway, and found the suite of rooms dark and silent. His son’s cloak was laid over a chair in the sitting room and a small pack was beside it. He entered through the open door to the bedchamber.

Elrohir was sleeping upon the still-made bed. He had dragged a light blanket over himself, but appeared to be still in the clothing he had traveled in. His eyes were closed over hollowed cheeks, and there was a new translucence about him. This Elrond had seen before.

For the first time since arriving in the Blessed Realm, he felt fear. Celebrían had come here broken and nearly spent, and been healed. He had arrived weary and shorn of a great power, and been refreshed and restored. Why had Elrohir not found similar aid?

“Elrohir,” he said softly.

Elrohir stirred slightly. Elrond sat on the edge of the bed and rested one hand upon his son’s head, the other over his heart. “Elrohir,” he prodded again.

Elrohir opened his eyes. He masked them almost immediately, but not before Elrond saw the deep sorrow and weariness therein. “I am glad you are home. Where did you go?” He kept his tone gentle, his touch soothing.

“I walked,” replied Elrohir softly. “I know not where.”

“What were you seeking?”

Elrohir lowered his eyes. Elrond moved his hand to Elrohir’s cheek and his son leaned into it instinctively, seeking comfort, and their eyes met. Elrohir wished to speak with him, pour out his heart, and find healing. Elrond could read that much in the surface of his thought. Yet something greater held his son back.

“Peace, I think.” Elrohir’s words were so soft that Elrond barely heard them.

“Did you find it?”

Elrohir did not answer. Elrond brushed his son’s mind. Will you let me in, Elrohir?

He felt Elrohir’s will dissolving. He wanted Elrond’s help, needed his help. There was a desperation and longing emanating from him. But then he closed his eyes and turned his head aside.

Elrond bowed his head. Never had Elrohir refused his aid. He felt numb, and his imagination crowded his mind with all it could conceive of what might have come between him and his son. The son most like him, the son he had always felt the closest to in spirit.

Did his son regret his choice? The thought came into his mind and he almost rejected it out of hand as a final work of the enemy. Had he wished to follow Arwen and Aragorn, and not done so? No, Celeborn and Glorfindel had not thought so. It was Elladan they thought conflicted and uncertain, torn between desires.

Could Elrohir regret actions toward his brother? Had Elladan chosen to stay with Elrohir, and there was now guilt and a rift between them? This seemed possible to him. Yet why then with Elladan gone was Elrohir in more distress?

“Elrohir, I beg you to let me help,” he pleaded.

Tears streamed from Elrohir’s eyes, and Elrond pulled him into his arms. While he would not accept his help, Elrohir did accept his comfort. Elrond poured fourth strength and healing in measures he did not remember possessing, until his son was calm and much stronger than he had been. Then he pushed him into a rest beyond sleep.

He undressed his son, sorrow again filling him as he looked upon the thin form, and then clothed him in clean nightclothes and put him to bed. Memory came upon him of the many times he had performed these deeds, tending elves and men injured and ill, some passing unto death and some finding healing in his care. Never had he thought to do this in the undying lands.

He did not go to Celebrían right away, for he would not burden her with his thoughts yet. She would soon pass into the stage of pregnancy where her energy abounded, and both of them would be glad for it. She needed all of her strength for their daughter now. Instead, he went seeking Erestor.

“My apologies for intruding at this late hour, Erestor. In the morning, would you send word to Olórin that I have need of him?”

Erestor nodded and did not wait for morning, and Elrond knew his heart was easily read. He could not leave and seek answers in far off Valmar, either. He hoped that for long friendship’s sake, Olórin would come to him.

* * *

Morning came and the sun was well in the sky when Elrond was interrupted from his thoughts by a knock on the door. He bade the visitor to enter, and nearly started in surprise. “Olórin!” he cried, and he stood to greet the Maia.

“Elrond, I came as soon as I received your summons,” replied Olórin as he accepted the chair and the drink that was offered.

“That could only be if you read hearts from afar, my friend,” said Elrond. “The message was sent only last evening.”

“An advantage of having my proper form back: I am not bound to this body, and come and go with much greater ease. But I read your heart now, old friend. What is amiss?”

And to Olórin Elrond poured out his concerns. “A master healer I was once, in Arda marred, but this malady that afflicts Elrohir I do not understand. We sent broken and fading elves west to find healing. When elves here remain sick in spirit, where do we turn?”

Olórin listened and was long in answering. “May I see him?” he asked.

“He sleeps still. I have asked to be called when he awakens.” But Elrond led the Maia to his son.

“Leave me with him. I will return to you in a short while.”

Elrond did as he was bid, though it sat poorly with him. Yet in these lands he was aware of the great power that was Olórin, friend still, yet much greater and mightier than they had known him in the past. He returned to his office and brooded until Olórin rejoined him.

“I suggest that you take him further west, Elrond. To Lórien,” said Olórin.

“Do you know what ails him, Olórin?”

The Maia was again slow to answer. “Yes, I think I do. But it is not for me to tell, nor is it an ill I can cure. But in those fair gardens, he may find respite, for a time at least.”

Elrond pondered the words he had just heard. Before he could organize his thoughts, Olórin continued.

“I will travel with you. I will make all the arrangements.”

“I should speak to Elrohir first,” protested Elrond. “I do not know if he will wish to go anywhere so soon after returning.”

“He will go.” Knowing eyes met Elrond’s. “It was this that he was seeking, though he knows it not. And he wishes to please you. If you ask him to come with you, he will.”

“If he wished to please me, why not let me help him?” asked Elrond, frustration in his voice.

“Patience, Elrond. He returned here to you in his need, did he not? All things in their appointed time. Now, where is Celebrían? She will need to come, of course, and I expect she will need time to prepare.”

Olórin did not wait for him, but rose and left the room, knowing well where Celebrían was likely to be found. Elrond sighed and followed. He stopped an elf in the hall and asked that rooms be prepared for their guest, and when he caught up to the Maia, he found him already in conversation with Celebrían.

Olórin knelt by Celebrían’s chair, one hand on her swelling belly, and he was laughing. “Ah, this child already reminds me of you. She will keep you on your toes! Your parents will find that appropriate, I think, judging by the many stories I have heard of your youth.” Then he took her hand and told her of the plan to journey to Lórien.

“Call your maidens to help you prepare, for you may wish to stay longer than this little one plans to stay in your womb. Then rest well, for we depart on the morrow.”

If Celebrían was surprised or distressed by the news, she did not show it. She looked gravely upon Olórin and then kissed his cheek. “There is healing in those gardens,” she said, remembrance of her sojourn there still fresh.

Olórin did not answer.

* * *

When word came that his son was awake, Elrond went to Elrohir’s room with a tray of food. He set it on a table in the sitting area as Elrohir entered from the bathing chamber. Their eyes met and Elrond read love and joy in his son’s eyes. He felt his heart lighten, for this was the son he knew.

“I could have dressed for dinner, Adar.” Elrohir embraced him before he sat down, hair still damp, and Elrond felt again how thin he had become through the loose robes.

“Your naneth is busy preparing for a trip, so I thought you might like to eat more comfortably here, without formality,” replied Elrond.

“A trip where?” Elrohir drank a sip of wine, but only picked at the food.

“To Lórien. Olórin stopped by for a visit, and he will be traveling with us. You will come, of course?”

“Lórien,” murmured Elrohir thoughtfully. He smiled. “Yes, I will come to Lórien, Adar.”

Elrond brushed away the thought that he was manipulating his son. Manipulating him needlessly, he scolded himself. He would have come if you had simply said you wished to take him there. It bothered him a little that Elrohir had not asked for what reason they were going to Lórien, that his innate curiosity was that dimmed. But there had been no persuasion or argument needed, and he was glad, for this was a strain he did not wish to put between them.

They left the next morning, and Celebrían and Olórin made it a cheerful party. The journey to the havens at Avallónë was a short one, and a ship was waiting to bear them to the main land of Aman. As more people had moved from Tol Eressëa to the mainland, a haven had been built where the Calacirya split the mountains to the sea. There they stayed for a night before resuming their journey.

Their journey by land was slow and easy. Olórin rode often with Elrohir, telling him tales and histories of the lands and those who lived there. Elrond watched them closely. He thought Elrohir seemed stronger and more vibrant, especially when in the company of the Maia.

* * *

“Elrond!”

Elrond turned at the sound of the well-known and much loved voice that he heard calling down from the hills. A moment later horses appeared, their leader a magnificent white beast with jingling bells. Joy welled up within him, and Elrond called, “Hail, Glorfindel!”

Glorfindel raced down a field of golden sheaves. He shone like the sun, bright and warm, and laughter flowed from him. He dismounted and caught Elrond in a hug in what seemed to be one fluid move.

“I heard tale that you were in these lands and traveling west!”

Glorfindel hardly paused for breath, for he caught sight of Celebrían and sprang to her side. “My lady!” She held his hand to her belly and a smile lit his face as he greeted their unborn daughter. Then he lifted Celebrían from her horse and set her on the ground.

By then Glorfindel’s companions had joined them. The male was as like to Glorfindel in form as any elf could be, and the female a younger reflection of what had to be her father.

“My brother Alcánion, and his daughter, Lindórië. This is Elrond Peredhel and his wife, Celebrían, daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel.”

The greetings turned merrier yet when Olórin came forward to greet Glorfindel, and Celebrían said, “Will you stop and take refreshment with us?” Celebrían held out her hand to Lindórië who took it immediately, and the two females left the males to make arrangements while they washed their faces and brushed the dust from their clothing.

Elrond was seated next to Glorfindel when Olórin and Elrohir joined them a few minutes later. Glorfindel’s face grew grave as he looked more closely upon Elrond’s son, and he motioned for Elrohir to come sit beside him. “This land has not agreed with you as much as I had hoped, elfling,” he said honestly.

Elrohir managed a smile, but did not answer.

“Where is Elladan? Does he not journey with you?”

“He has sailed up the coast to visit Elwing and Eärendil, and with him are Celeborn and Galadriel,” answered Elrond. “We journey to Lórien.”

Their destination seemed to satisfy the golden elf, and he did not question them further. Celebrían and Lindórië appeared, and Glorfindel held out his hand to his niece. “Lindórië, meet Elrohir, of whom I have spoken much.”

The words were spoken with paternal pride, as if Glorfindel were introducing his own son to his niece. And indeed, that is how he had long thought of Elrond’s sons.

Elrohir stood and bowed before the maiden, and took her hand in his and kissed it. But neither managed to murmur more than a polite word. Their eyes had met and their faces flushed, and still Elrohir held Lindórië’s hand.

Elrond smiled and Glorfindel laughed, but Alcánion shook his head wrly. “Not an ellon at home has she looked at twice, but the first one you bring her to, Glorfindel, has her tongue-tied.”

“I do not recall ever having seen Elrohir in this state before,” replied Glorfindel. Then he laughed again. “I will break them apart before they turn to stone. They do not even hear us speaking about them!”

He rose and parted their hands, and then put cups of drink in them instead. He led them a short distance away. “Sit here, you two, and speak, if you can find where your tongues have gone.”

They both smiled at Glorfindel, but quickly forgot him as they sat together and apparently did, thought Elrond, find their tongues for they seemed to find much to say.

Celebrían sat between Elrond and Glorfindel. “That may be good medicine,” she said, a smile creeping across her face as she watched the two young elves.

Glorfindel looked from them to Olórin. “I can nearly see through him. What has led to this?”

“I do not know,” replied Elrond quietly.

Glorfindel turned his gaze to Olórin.

“It is not for me to say, my friend. But I dare say that Lórien will be good for him, and he will find comfort there,” said Olórin.

“I notice you do not say that he will find healing there,” said Glorfindel.

“That is not up to me,” replied Olórin.

The sun had traveled several more hours on her day’s journey when Olórin finally rose. “We must continue if we intend to reach the traveler’s house by nightfall.”

Elrohir and Lindórië spoke a few more moments, then Elrohir again kissed her hand and spoke his farewells. He walked her to her horse, but her father helped her to mount. Then Glorfindel held him close for a moment. “Be well, Elrohir.”

To Elrond’s surprise, tears glistened in his son’s eyes. Elrohir did not answer, but Glorfindel spoke softly to him until he was comforted. Then they parted and each resumed their journey.

* * *

TBC