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Life on Tol Eressëa moved at its own pace, which Gil-galad compared unfavourably to molasses gliding over the back of a spoon. He had enough sense to keep his opinion mainly to himself, Amongst his extended and famously irreverent family. One thing they all agreed upon though, from the depths of bitter experience, was a deep dislike for celebratory parties, the kind held to honour some famous person or event. Or, as was more usual these days, a welcome to the Undying Lands to those who had finally sailed West.
This one was likely to be the last such welcome home gathering; Círdan was treating it as such, coming ashore at long last with the declared intention to stay. Elrond’s twin sons came with him, as did Celeborn, Gildor, a collection of waifs and strays, and the last of the household from Rivendell as they’d taken to calling Imladris sometime after Gil’s unplanned departure.
The new arrivals, with the exception of Celeborn and Gildor, seemed to regard themselves as under the care of Erestor, who he was still amused to find had gone on to become Elrond’s senior councillor. He had always enjoyed watching Erestor back in Mithlond: Gil used to suspect he would either rise very high some day or end up banished as ambassador to some Khandian principality.
He moved through the crowd, greeting people he barely knew and smiling at newcomers, warm, urbane, approachable: this was something he knew he did well. There was no flirting this time. He was usually discreet of course, because rank was a relative thing – so many former kings, ranking princes - and his great-grandfather was conservative to a fault, but this was Elrond’s party, even if it had officially been thrown for him by Finarfin, which meant his cousin Celebrían was the nominal hostess. That was as good a reason as any not to raise eyebrows this time.
Celebrían was fragile and no one would have asked her to do any large scale organising. As far as he could see, his great-grandfather had gotten Aunt Lalwen to take charge of the actual work. She was going out of her way to be friendly to Elrond’s boys, introducing them to people they probably had no interest in getting to know, but in his experience that was the way of aunts. His other aunts – aunts, great-aunts, people with too many greats in front of their title to remember right first time – were just as bad.
He knew very few of the new arrivals and would have been inclined to flirt with none had that been his aim. Erestor would have been fun – it was a game they had played a few times since he arrived in Aman with Elrond – but he had eyes for no one but Gildor. Everyone else seemed a bit stunned to finally be across the water and more interested in where and how they would live, rather than in making new friends, even with the former High King in the East.
A glint of gold caught his eye across the room and for a moment he thought his aunt had somehow managed to move past him to the window. But it wasn’t Galadriel, it was someone tall, well built, his hair worn loose in a recent style that had been brought across the sea. He had a drink in one hand, a plate in the other, and was talking to a short, overdressed woman, a smile fixed firmly on his face. Even from the other side of the room, Gil could see the smile was starting to glaze.
He began working his way over, following the gut instinct that had never let him down. It was a slow progression because he had to stop and chat every few paces, but eventually he got there. His timing was impeccable – the overdressed woman had just patted a nicely muscled arm and bustled off, leaving a perfect gap. Gil stepped straight in.
*We’re not related, are we?”
Startlingly blue eyes came to rest on his face, scrutinising him carefully as though to make sure there was no chance of a mistake: “I don’t know - you have so many blond relatives, you lose track of them then?”
“I have a few,” Gil said with a rueful grin. “There’s Vanyar in the family and a few Telerin and a couple of others no one dares put a label on. If I’m honest I feel like I’m drowning in relatives at these events, which is why I double checked. Though I’m pretty sure we’re not, you look too agreeable to be one of us.”
Blue eyes blinked briefly. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise... Good evening, Your Majesty. There is a connection, but in a roundabout way – Turgon’s wife, Elenwë, was my cousin. My name is Glorfindel and I arrived on the last boat, so I’m one of the people you have to blame for this welcome party.”
He had a nice voice and an even nicer smile: “Don’t fuss with the title, we’re meant to be informal tonight. Just Gil. So – you’re the Reborn they sent back over the sea. That must have been quite an important balrog you killed.”
Glorfindel almost choked on his wine. He made an attempt to look put out, but the smile was there, just as Gil had known it would be. “If I’m fair, that was a two-way street. If you want a proper hero, then my friend Ecthelion’s a good choice, though he’s – I think he’d be ill at ease talking about it.”
“Some of us manage the transition back to life better than others,” Gil agreed. “Depends on how you left the first life and how much was on your soul, maybe. I think I was fine, but then I wasn’t in the Halls very long, not as they reckon time there.”
Glorfindel nodded thoughtfully. “He made the effort to come here tonight to greet me, but I don’t think he’s at ease in a crowd.”
Gil looked around. He had met Ecthelion of the Fountain before but couldn’t say they’d had an actual conversation. Short on words, like many of the Reborn – Gil himself was something of an anomaly but being sociable had always been part of the job for him and was probably too ingrained to be lost to the Halls. Ecthelion was nowhere to be seen, but then it was a big crowd. “He’s the tall one with the very dark hair, isn’t he? Might have gone out for a breath of air. It’s pretty close in here.”
“Big crowd, yes. I was trying to stay with Elrond, but I lost him a while back.”
“He was talking to Celeborn last I saw him,” Gil said glancing around again. No Elrond. “He won’t stay late, Celebrían’s not one for parties either. This is the first I’ve seen her at in a while. Do you need to leave with him, or…?”
“Well, I’m not sure I know where I’m staying other than it’s his house,” Glorfindel said with a laugh. “It’ll take time to get my bearings – I never knew Tol Eressëa very well. It’s probably changed a lot too.”
“Been a long time,” Gil nodded. “They’re not that fond of change, the ones who didn’t leave, but places grow to fit people and with everyone coming back or being let out…”
“I was born over on the mainland, but I’d need a map over there too now,” Glorfindel admitted, looking between plate and glass and settling on the wine as being the easier choice. The perils of this kind of party were that it was easier to get drunk than to eat, a glass was simpler to manoeuvre than edibles. Gil took a quick look around, ticking off in his head the people he’d stopped to talk with and trying to see who else he absolutely had to spend a few minutes with.
“I was getting myself something to eat, but there’s chairs and cushions in the solarium – through there. I could introduce you to a few people. You might run into a couple of old friends too.”
“I keep running into people I think I should remember, but it’s been a while.” The smile was rueful now, and little lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. He looked boyishly young except for those eyes; they were old, a little watchful.
The solarium was busy, with groups clustered on couches or standing near the big windows. Gildor was holding court, with Erestor curled at his side like a sleek, disinterested cat. Gil liked that they were together still, it created a link back to the past in Lindon and to Balar before that and there were few enough of those remaining. Too many people had never left the Halls, too many memories would never again be shared.
Erestor raised a hand in greeting, which Glorfindel returned with barely concealed relief. “Erestor will give me directions. I’ll be fine now.”
Somehow Gil had failed to put Imladris and Erestor together as connected to Glorfindel. Of course they would know one another. Good. “I have to go and socialise, – part of the job. If those two decide to leave before you’re ready, just wait around here. I’ll check before I leave.”
Glorfindel raised dark gold brows and this time his smile was a full grin. “Those two? Leave before the party’s over? That would be a first. I’ll be fine.”
-----o
As predicted, Elrond and Celebrian left before the midpoint of the evening. Gil-galad hugged his cousin goodbye, noting she looked pale and tired. “Too many people, too much rushing around, too many names to remember?” he guessed as they said goodnight.
Celebrian nodded, the torchlight gilding her silvery hair. “I’ll be better next time, I’m just not used to so much noise. I wanted to greet everyone though, it’s been such a long time, I still can’t quite believe my father and the twins are here… you have to come and spend time with us, get to know them.”
He kissed the top of her head, not difficult for him although she was a tall woman, the child of tall parents. “I’ll do that. And we’ll do something at the palace in a week or two, then you can be the guest and sit in one place and have people come to you. All right?”
Elrond caught his eye, nodding wordless thanks. Gil thought Celebrían’s health might have concerned him more had he not half expected to find she had passed to the Halls, though it must still be upsetting in a land where they had all been taught to believe there was no illness, no decay. All part of the propaganda of course – Valmar on the mainland might make that claim, but the island was a mid-point, not so utterly beyond natural laws. Gil preferred it. So, he’d soon noticed, did every other member of his family not still in the Halls who had spent time on the Eastern Shore.
Unchanging perfection was vastly over-rated, as Aredhel was fond of saying.
-----o
By the time he had greeted any number of lost-looking newcomers, made small talk with Finarfin and a decent fuss over Ingwion, who seldom graced purely Noldor celebrations with his presence let alone travelling out to the island, it was late. He went past the solarium on his way out, on the off chance that Glorfindel was still there, but he had left. Erestor, in the middle of some complicated argument with one of Elrond’s twins, asked if he needed anything and he found himself reluctant to explain.
He could have stayed with any number of people but had early on bought a small house on the island so that he could come and go without owing anyone his time or explanations. There were two ways of reaching it from the oversized villa, formally belonging to Indis, that the family liked to use for birthdays and anniversary parties and the recent spate of ‘welcome home’s. Gil took the beach road, the long way around, but a good walk for clearing the head. The air smelt of sea and sand, proper sand, not that odd, crushed gem look of some of the prettier stretches on the mainland, and the stars were white lights blazing in the sky. He missed seeing the still figure on the bench till he had almost reached him.
“Enjoying the view?” It was not the most original conversation opener he supposed, though he’d used worse and survived. The best he could hope for was laughter.
Glorfindel slanted a look up at him. “There should be a moon,” he said.
Gil glanced reflexively at the moonless sky, then joined him on the bench. The wood was still warm and smooth, but felt less wood-like than it looked. “I can’t keep track after so long in the Halls and now here, but Elwing always knows when there should be a moon and complains about the lack. There should be, but what we get instead is this diffused light and a lot of stars.”
“I still remember the Trees,” Glorfindel said. “And then when I woke here again, I knew the light was strange, not like home. This time I’m very clear on the differences.”
“Sun and moon belong to Arda,” Gil said. “At least that’s what I had to keep reminding myself to begin with. I never saw the Trees, of course. This – this is what we have instead, a softer light, more suited to our eyes. So we’re told apparently. I’ve never tried asking.”
“Still knowing what’s best for us?” Glorfindel asked. He sounded tired. “Galadriel said it would be like this.”
“My aunt was the most reluctant returnee I know,” Gil said with a twitch of a smile. “She kept a polite face and somehow refrained from throwing things at people. She’ll feel better now Celeborn’s here.”
“I think he’s worrying about facing a yeni of pent-up rage,” Glorfindel said and this time his eyes smiled. “Still, he knew what he was getting into. Is the party over?”
“It’s less a party now, more little groups of people catching up with each other. Probably the best part of the night. Did you get enough to eat? They seemed to run out fast.”
“I was all right, Erestor kept finding me things to sample. He hasn’t changed – though I doubt he’s been here long enough to change. I spent part the night eating things I couldn’t identify, which is a mark of trust I suppose.”
They shared laughter. Gil leaned back and relaxed, breathing in the good air, watching the stars. “The sky looks different from here, doesn’t it?” he asked quietly under the shush of the ocean.
Glorfindel nodded. “Different yes. The stars hang lower and they’re – set – differently. Everything’s turned about.”
“After I was reborn that was one of the first things I noticed,” Gil remembered. “I don’t think I’ve ever really got past that. The stars should look the way they did when I was a boy.”
Glorfindel smiled briefly. “They don’t even look like the stars of my childhood, and I can still recall my father teaching me them. I suppose there’s no point in harking back to something that’s gone though. Rather make sense of the here and now and live in it.”
“Wise,” Gil agreed. “But difficult.”
They sat in silence for a while, each busy with his own thoughts. It felt surprisingly comfortable, Gil realised, which was unexpected from someone he had barely met, even if he had heard a lot about him. Finally he recalled the hour and flexed his shoulders, preparing to rise. “You got directions to Elrond’s house, right?”
Glorfindel started, lost in thought. “Oh – yes, yes. Erestor explained. I just wanted a look at the beach, have a chance to catch my breath. Beaches are good that way.”
“This one is,” Gil agreed. “I have a house over there, just past those trees. I like being close to the water, got used to it in Mithlond. You’re up that road a ways. I can walk with you – I can get to my place from round the back.”
“You’re sure?” Glorfindel looked relieved. “Take the road to the left, I understood. Exactly which house – less sure.”
“That’s what I thought,” Gil said with a grin. “I have heard Erestor’s directions before.”
They left the beach and walked slowly up the road towards Elrond’s house. The night was hushed, there was no one else about and no sounds but their footsteps and soft night noises mingling with the ocean in the background. Glorfindel was looking around, taking in the large, well-spaced houses, clusters of trees, the soft, blue-green lights hanging from poles at intervals: not Fëanorian lights but some newer invention based on the original work.
“I don’t recognise half the trees,” Glorfindel said. “I thought Tol Eressëa would be more like home.”
He had been born in Aman – twice – and yet he still thought of the far shore as ‘home’. It was something Gil had often noticed in those Reborn who had begun life in Aman. “I recall some from Balar,” Gil said. “It was part of Tol Eressëa, remember? But the others, I don’t know. New species they bred somehow? That one with the purple leaf is pretty but hardly looks real.”
“It’ll take getting used to,” Glorfindel said with a restless shrug. “I’ve been living in a forested land for the best part of an age. I thought I knew trees by now.”
“Trees are always trees,” Gil said. “They always have something to complain about and are damn hard to understand.”
They laughed. “Hush, they’ll hear you,” Glorfindel told him touching his arm briefly. Not flirting, but not not flirting either.
“It’s that house,” Gil said with a gesture to a hedge of rosemary that sheltered white walls and a roof that would be red in daylight. “There’s more to it than it seems from the road, plenty of space for a few extra.”
“Yes, he assured me I wouldn’t be depriving anyone of a bed.” Glorfindel was half-smiling, but there was a touch of uncertainty in it. “I feel like a problem. I should have gone straight to my family, but there were people I wanted to see first.”
“Your family’s with the Gondolin enclave?” Gil asked as they slowed to a halt at the entrance, an opening in the hedge with no gate.
“Apparently yes. I know it was expected I would go directly there, but – well, I’ll explain when I get there. A lot of time has passed, I wanted to see the people I’ve lived with for so long first. Is that terrible?”
Ecthelion, uneasy in a room full of strangers and noise, had made the effort to come and greet him. Gil wondered at his family not doing the same, but it was too soon to ask a question like that. Perhaps later. “It’s not terrible,” he said. “It’s about friendship and the things we share and the ties that bind. They’ll understand when you’ve had a chance to explain.”
Or not. You never could tell with families he had found.
Glorfindel nodded. “Thank you. And thanks for walking up with me, Erestor did say something about a hedge, he just didn’t mention how many houses had hedges…”
“Yes. Damn good at all kinds of work, but don’t ever ask him to draw you a map.”
They shared another smile. The next lamp was further up the road, but there was still light enough to read expressions. “I hope to see you again,” Glorfindel said, more statement than question.
Gil nodded. “I spend a lot of time here, hence the house, and we’ll be moving in similar circles, at least here, so yes, I’m not that easy to avoid. You’ll come back here after you see your family?”
Glorfindel nodded. “We’ve gone through a lot together, and I think this is where I’d feel most at home. It might be wonderful wherever it is they’re staying but…”
Gil had heard all about the Gondolin enclave. He doubted it was wonderful. “In that case, we’ll keep running into each other,” he said. “Which is good. There’s a whole giving thanks for a safe voyage ceremony in a few days. You’ll still be here for that – Elrond will make sure of it.”
“You said that grimly.”
“Trust me, it’s not the highlight of anyone’s life, but it’s polite and Lady Uinen at least is known to enjoy it.”
“Do they – come in person for things like that?” Glorfindel sounded less than comfortable.
“Gods, I hope not, though I wouldn’t put it past some of them to come blend with the crowd. No, but it’s assumed they know. You’ll see.”
“I will, yes.” Glorfindel held out his hand, palm up, and Gil clasped wrists with him in the time-honoured warrior’s greeting.
“So. Enjoy catching up with your people. I’ll see you soon.”
Glorfindel’s eyes had a little spark of mischief in them and his smile was warmer and more focused on him than before. “I look forward to it.”
Gil, who was pretty sure he had been discreetly flirted with, watched him go down the path towards the front door with its little lamp burning at the side and found he was still smiling in response. “So do I,” he murmured. “Most definitely, so do I.”