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Chapter Text

Gilraen was not well. 

She knew this. Aragorn, her sweet baby boy was sick, and her worry for him eclipsed everything else, but she was tangentially aware that she was not well herself. 

As she sat in the waiting room of the Healing Halls, still in her travel clothes, waiting for the healers to finish treating her son, the richly carved beams of the walls swam before her eyes, exhaustion hitting her at once. 

As soon as the news that…that…the news had come she had done the one thing that she could think of and packed all their things, departing for Rivendell. Here they would find refuge, because of their blood. And it was of utmost importance that her son grew up safe. So she had pushed on, especially when Aragorn had fallen sick. 

Now, as the constant stress relaxed just a bit, her vision swam, and hands trembled even folded in her lap as they were. 

Maybe she should also ask for medicine for herself. But better not to push their luck. The elves were very kind, but they were also of much nobler blood than her, than even her son. 

Gilraen breathed in, and out, tuning out the pounding in her temples. It would be all right. They would help her son, and she would get better. 

Suddenly, the door to the Halls opened, and a tall, handsome elf exited them with an exhausted expression, hair like spun gold shining softly. She moved to stand, but found her muscles not collaborating readily, and he noticed her first, blue eyes glimmering with wisdom and age, even as his face seemed as youthful as hers. 

-My Lady!- he exclaimed, reaching her in a few long strides. - Your son shall recover. Forgive us for leaving you here alone to wait, I do not know why this oversight happened.- he apologized, looking a bit frazzled. 

Gilraen barely heard him over the rush of relief she felt at the news. She would not lose her son too. -I…Thank you.- she managed to say. - Thank you.-

-There is nothing to thank for, My Lady. This is only right to help.- he inclined his head. - Ai, forgive me, I have forgotten to introduce myself. I’m Glorfindel of The Golden Flower, I was called in to help tether the mind of your son.-

She smiled at the elf, whose face kept swimming before her eyes, and attempted to stand again, this time successfully. -Thank you again, Lord Glorfindel. I’m Gilraen, of the Dúnedain.- she curtsied, and nearly fell over when her head spun. 

Glorfindel caught her easily with a quiet exclamation. - You are not well, Lady Gilraen! Ai! Come with me, you need healing.-

-I do not wish to be a bother.- she managed to protest, but had to admit to herself that only the grip of the elf was holding her more or less upright. 

His face shadowed as he frowned with concern. - This is no bother, to heal in the Halls of Healing. Who will raise your son if ill befalls you?- he persuaded her gently, leading her towards the doors. His voice was fair, and he had a very peculiar way of speaking, an accent that rounded all his vowels into something exceedingly musical.

She focused on this, and on the warmth of his hands through her cloak, and managed to make those few steps to the gabinet of a free healer mostly on her own, not falling over. 

He returned once the doctor had told her to rest now, and brought her to the room where Aragorn slept, tiny on the huge bed they gave him. Gilraen was exhausted enough she just lay down next to her son as she stood, holding him close, and the elf went to sit on the chair next to the bed. 

-I shall keep watch, Lady Gilraen.- he said silently, seeing her questioning gaze, and showed her the sword he had lying on his knees. - No ill will befall you two in this Valley. The little one has to be observed still, and I was the one to link with him, so I would be there anyway. If you wish I can sit under the wall there.- he gestured at the wall furthest away, inclining his head. 

-Your presence doesn’t bother me.- she replied, exhaling. The thought of orcs was still terrifyingly close to her mind. It was strangely reassuring to have somebody keeping watch. 

Glorfindel smiled brightly at her, nodding, and she let herself drift off to sleep, claimed by exhaustion.

Chapter Text

Gilraen ran her hand over the black locks of her son, turning his new name in her mouth like a particularly tough piece of candy.

Estel.

Yes. It was a fitting name. It was a safe name.

Better to keep him safe than to cling to pride, leaving him easy to identify.

She exhaled, glad that he had accepted it too in a moment of waking. He still slept more than not, recovering from the fever, but he had woken up a few times, and he seemed even brighter than before.

Good. It was very good that the heavy, cloying grief she felt had already faded from his mind.

Soft knocking on the door interrupted her musings, and she called out for whoever it was to enter.

Glorfindel quietly walked into the room, a furrow between his brows. - Suliad, Lady Gilraen. How is he?-

-He is sleeping, but not feverish anymore.- she replied, and the elf sat down in the hair that she had hesitantly started calling his. He was wearing a shimmering tunic, beautifully embroidered, but there wasn't a sword at his side.

-Good.- he smiled, clearly troubled by something, and fell quiet, watching them with an unreadable expression. After a moment he broke the silence to murmur a soft, gentle;  -I must admit, I had been rather shocked to find out the agreed epessë for him.-

-Truly? It is fitting enough, I think, even though it pains me it's needed.- she sighed, her bare-bone knowledge of elven languages thankfully allowing her to understand the unfamiliar term for a name.

-It's a heavy name to bear.- Glorfindel murmured, eyebrows drawing together. - I bore it for a while, and I cannot say it had been easy. To subject a child to such Doom...- he cut himself off, exhaling heavily. -I shouldn't say that. Men are not subject to Dooms. -

Gilraen felt her heart squeeze in anxiety. - A Doom?-

-Ai, no, no.- the elf shook his head, making a face. - It's an old tradition. To give a child one name that is heavy, and one that is not. One that is silly, or obvious, or something that they won't need to grow into. And his are both heavy.- he folded his hands together in his lap, looking at Estel and yet as if somewhere far away. - Very heavy.-

She took a few calming breaths. -It is not a bad thing, then? It won't curse him?-

-No, it won't. - Glorfindel looked at her, smile bright despite the frown still marring his features. - Estel is a graceful name.-

Returning to watching her son sleep, she calmed the churning of fear in her gut. There would not be any Doom on her child. There couldn't be.

She wrenched her thoughts away from that matter, searching for something lighter to talk about. -And your name, sir? Is it a heavy one, or a mindless one?-

-Ai!- he chuckled, running a hand down his face. - It's the epitome of a mindless name. Glorfindel, originally Laurefindelë, means golden-haired. As you can see, it's rather... obvious. .- he waved at her with a strand of his long, golden hair, and she couldn't contain her laughter.

-That it is!- she agreed, hiding her smile behind her free hand.

The commotion apparently woke up Estel, who blinked at her with his huge, gray eyes, and smiled sweetly. -Mama!- he wriggled out of his blanket, and with surprising strength plastered himself to her front.

-Oh, hello baby.- she kissed his forehead, cradling him gently. -Do you feel better?-

He harrumphed something unintelligible, the raspy throat he still had making the words hard to understand.

-He says his head still hurts.- Glorfindel said gently, and she frowned at him.

-How do you know?-

-I am still linked to him, a weak one way child-bond only, since he is Edain and cannot reach back. I will break it the moment he recovers enough to be fully stable. It makes his intent very clear.- he explained, and Estel turned around to look at him, surprised.

-O.- he said, looking at the elf with wide eyes, leaning forward in Gilraen's grip. -You are very, very warm.- he mumbled out after a second of staring unblinking into Glorfindel's eyes.

-Really, pityo? - Glorfindel tilted his head, and suddenly jerked back, a breathless gasp leaving him as his chair clattered down to the ground and he scrambled to stand.

The unbelievably blue eyes of the elf glowed softly, blown equally as wide as those of the boy in her lap, as they stared at each other. She felt herself tense in nervous anticipation.

-How...- he began, voice shocked. - What...- bringing one hand to his chest he touched his own collarbones incredulously, a gasp of awed laughter leaving him. - Pityo?-

Estel smiled. - Very warm! And pretty! Nice-bright. I like it!- he exclaimed with enthusiasm, clapping his hands.

-What happened?- Gilrean asked hesitantly, seeing the very blatant emotions on Glorfindel's face.

-I...I think he just bonded back with me?- Glorfindel managed, voice strained, eyes glowing. -It...shouldn't have been possible? But he did. I...- he opened his arms, at a loss for words.

She felt her heart stutter at that. - Is this a bad thing?-

-Mama, no! Very safe!- Estel patted her hand, smiling brightly and pointing at Glorfindel.

-No, I...If he bonded back, then he has need of this bond. It just shouldn't be possible. I...Lady Gilraen, how much do you know about elfings?-  

Chapter Text

Gilraen looked at Lord Glorfindel, holding her son closer.

-I...They are the children of your kind? And nobody has seen one for...many years, now.- she said, feeling rather out of her depth.

Lord Glorfindel nodded, an awed expression on his face as he looked at Estel with those brillant-blue eyes. -Well, yes, there hasn’t been an elfling born in some two millenia now.- he tore his eyes away from her son to look at her with a startling intensity. -They are very fragile, compared to Edain children. In spirit, especially. We need to cradle their souls close until they sink roots into Arda deep enough not to splinter.-

-Oh.- she blinked, looking at her son, who smiled gummily up at her. – And why is this...relevant?-

-I held Estel’s feä while the healers worked on him, to help them stabilize him, and monitor his state.- he explained, rubbing along his collarbones. – But that usually only creates a weak, temporary bond with Edain children. Just enough to help with the recovery. They can’t reach back, because their souls are not...flighty, not as malleable as those of elflings. But… Estel reached back.-

-Very warm! And nice!- Estel butted in, patting her hands that held him in her lap. She only drew him closer, earning herself a raspy huff of indignation. – He is safe, Mama, shiny and safe.-

-Thank you, pityo. - Glorfindel smiled, a fragile, trembling expression, sitting back down on his abandoned chair. He glowed softly.

She blinked, but the effect didn’t disappear.

He glowed.

Gilraen pursed her lips, holding a squirmy Estel in place. -Is this dangerous?- she asked.

-No.- the elf shook his golden head, fingers twining together before him. – No, I have the best mind-shields in the whole Valley, he will be even safer this way. Oh, little one, you could feel me?-

Estel huffed at her iron grip, and looked at Lord Glorfindel. – You make quiet.- he said, quite seriously. – Nice, warm, and quiet, like hugs.-

- Really, Estel?- Gilraen asked. – Does Lord Glorfindel feel like a hug?-

-Mhm!- the boy nodded. – I was scared, Mama. Everything hurt. But the hug-feeling was nice.-

-Oh.- she exhaled slowly. – And…Lord Glorfindel, you are all right with this?-

-Ai, Lady Gilraen, I...This is an incredible honor. – he laughed softly, incredulous. – We had thought the elvish blood had been too diluted for millennia for such a thing to work, this is...incredible.-

-I...My bloodline is one with much foresight in it.- she admitted, letting Estel shimmy his way out of her grip and to the edge of the bed, extending his arms towards the elf in the universal gesture of asking to be picked up.

Lord Glorfindel nodded, and gently, carefully, like as if he was handling an glass artifact of great value he lifted her son into his arms. They looked like day and night, tanned golden-blue next to pale black-silver, and Estel promptly squeaked, squeezing the elf’s neck with all the strength he could muster. -Oh, pityo.- Lord Glorfindel hugged him back, her son tiny in his arms like an even younger child, his still pale face even more evident next to the elf’s bronzed tones.

-Foresight is a Mind-art. It could be it.- he said after a moment, the golden light brightening, eyes starting to shimmer like two pools of starlight. Estel was beginning to nod off against his shoulder, drooling a bit on the soft, green silken robe, and she winced.

She should probably take him and tuck him in. No need for the Lord to have to wash up later.

Glorfindel stopped her with a finger on his lips, gesturing at her to sit. – My Lady, do not trouble yourself.- he murmured, sitting next to her, Estel fast asleep against his chest.

Gilraen bit her lip. She was worried for her son, and the fact that he had worn himself out just by this short conversation was telling.

Then the warm light of the elf reached her, and she could only blink.

Lord Glorfindel felt… He felt like a summer day. Like a hug. Estel was right, he felt safe. She froze.

That was not something she had felt for a long time.

-I will try something, all right?- the elf asked, looking at her softly. – If it feels uncomfortable in any way imagine a wall or something of the sort.- He reached out, touching the back of her hand with two fingers, and she wanted to flinch back from the touch and lean into it both.

Hello. Suddenly she heard, like the echo of a thunderstorm, somewhere between a feeling and something tangible. This is me.

Gilraen blinked at Lord Glorfindel who had not moved an inch nor spoken, and suddenly she understood, swallowing harshly at the odd sensation of hearing thoughts of another.

Hello? She tentatively thought back, tilting her head.

A sense of amusement-suspicion-confirmed reached her, easily recognizable from her normal feelings as something belonging to another. This we call osanwë. Mind-speech. The elf explained, in something that wasn’t exactly words as much as an impression of them.

Aha? Gilraen raised her eyebrows at him, puzzled.

You must be talented in the mind-arts. This is not something most Edain can do as easily. He elaborated. Would you like to see what I was talking about with Estel?

Yes. Thinking things back and forth was much clearer and faster than speaking normally. She could see the uses of this.

Lord Glorfindel...pulled at her, for a lack of a better word, and she found herself in the peculiar situation of both being in the room, sitting on the bed of her son, and in a well-tended garden, walled off with white walls, stretching for miles and miles around her.

A bright figure of a smiling elf appeared before her, wearing an odd tunic and some armor, a circlet on his brow, the garden around them centering itself on him. Hello. You are currently seeing my mindscape. Follow me.

She did, less walking and more...changing places, the garden blurring around and crystallizing into a place with some ponds of calm or slightly rippled water.

Five of them were brightly lit with different colors, and three were still, feeling dead or distant, even if as carefully tended to as the alive ones. Glorfindel stood over another pond, this one much smaller but very bright, gesturing at it. This is your son. He is sleeping, so the water is calm.

Oh. Gilraen thought, approaching, and found herself brushing against the figure of simmering light that was the elf in this odd not-place, a flash of light-heat-power blinding her for a split second.

I n the next blink she was back to her body, Lord Glorfindel grinning at her with a slight blush high on his cheekbones.

-Sorry, Lady Gilraen.- he said sheepishly. – It’s always odd to be touched so deeply by the mind of another.-

She blinked at him, dumbfounded, feeling both confused and very safe. – I’m sorry.-

-No, no, it’s fine. – he chuckled, a warm sound. – It was my fault. Anyway, how was the experience?-

-Peculiar, Lord Glorfindel. – Gilraen replied, mulling the experience over. – But all in all pleasant. Does that garden exist anywhere in the world, or just in your mind?-

- Oh.- his smile dimmed a bit as he glanced down at Estel sleeping in his arms soundly, each exhale punctuated by a soft snore. – No, it doesn’t. Not anymore. It was one of the gardens of Gondolin.-

-Gondolin.- she repeated, unsure if she heard right.

-Yes?- Glorfindel blinked at her. – It had been my home, once upon a time.-

-Wasn’t it...a legend?- she asked, furrowing her brows. – I’m sorry, this was rather rude of me.-

-It was so long ago it feels like it sometimes.- he shook his head. – Thirty four yeni at least. I think I might have some of my mother’s roses mixed in with it, but that is an even older memory.-

-...How old are you, if I may ask?- Gilraen pursed her lips, a bit thrown off. He didn’t look anything older than thirty, if that. She knew elves were immortal and ancient, but he...didn’t feel ancient.

Glorfindel cocked one golden eyebrow at her. – Oh, this is a rather complicated question. If we count from my begetting, then I am...Ai, I think I lost count?- he blinked in puzzlement at himself, starting to count on his knuckles. – I have no idea how long a Valian Year is, but it’s certainly longer than a Sun one...- he murmured to himself, frowning heavily, freckles brown on the bridge of his nose.

It hit her. He had freckles.

It was such a little thing, but so jarring in the image of the glimmering, golden Lord that it threw her off compleately.

Elves could have freckles.

-So from my begetting passed anywhere from fifty to sixty yeni, about eight thousand years, all in all? I think?- Glorfindel finished his calculations, and she startled, realizing she had been staring at him.

-Eight thousand?!?- she said, voice going thin.

-More or less, yes, I was born when the Trees were in bloom, under Laurelin’s light. Although I spent a thousand seven hundred years or so in Mandos, so I have walked on Arda for something closer to six thousand years. About forty yeni, that would be.-

-Oh.- swallowing harshly she realized just how young she was in confront with him. All of her life, but a blink from his perspective.

She was used to being the youngest in the room, she had married very early, but this was…

-And you, Lady Gilraen?- he asked with a curious tilt of his head, stroking Estel’s hair gently.

-Well, My Lord, I’m twenty six years old, and Estel is two.- she admitted, grimacing with a blush of embarrassment.

Glorfindel’s features softened, and he smiled at her gently. – Quite a nice age, twenty six. You certainly look better than I did at that age, ha!- he chuckled. – I was a lanky thing at twenty six, stumbling around like a drunken calf.-

She only felt her blush deepen.