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“Oh, Valar! You’re in love with him!” Lindir crowed, standing up and nearly upsetting his wine glass.
“Be quiet,” Glorfindel snarled, catching the minstrel’s arm and yanking him back down into his seat. Once he was certain that Lindir did not mean to rise again, the captain hissed, “Do you have a death wish?"
“Certainly not,” Lindir said, grinning, “but I cannot fathom why you think love and death must go together; why are you so upset, my friend? What is better than love?"
Glorfindel snorted and turned back to his cup. “Think of what you are saying, Lindir, and of who we are discussing."
“What do you mean?” Lindir asked slowly, his joy leaking away in the face of his sudden confusion. “Erestor is…”
“Erestor,” Glorfindel interrupted quietly. Glorfindel looked up at the minstrel and shook his head, a twisted sort of smile curling his lips. “Erestor is the chief counselor, a brilliant strategist, a force of nature, and my closest friend. I know him well, Lindir, better than most, which is why I know such a thing, such a desire, is impossible.”
“Do you regret it, then?” Lindir asked cautiously; the minstrel was suddenly stiff, frozen in place, his face startlingly blank. “Do you wish it was someone of better quality?"
Quick as light, Glorfindel had a fist full of the minstrel's tunic, his face alight with fury as he snarled, “How dare you?"
The tension in Lindir bled out instantly, and he sighed, then smiled, shaking his head. He patted Glorfindel’s hand gently.
“Peace, Glorfindel. Forgive me, for that was cruel. Yet, for a moment, I feared those words would reflect your thoughts, and I would have to smack you here in front of the whole hall.” Lindir said with a laugh, and when Glorfindel did not relax, Lindir squeezed his hand gently and continued in a more serious voice, "Truly, Glorfindel, please forgive me, my friend, but I had to be sure, but now I understand less. Why are you not happy? Why have you not spoken to him?”
It took several long moments for Glorfindel’s muddled mind to make sense of what had just happened, and several more before he released his friend and pushed his cup of wine away, deciding he had obviously had too much. He could hear the whispers of those around him, and he sighed. More fuel for the rumor mill, no doubt.
“You mean to judge my intent for his sake? I cannot blame or fault you for it, but think of what you asked Lindir. It is not him that is lacking in my eyes, but I who will be lacking in his. It took centuries to forge a friendship with him, and at every turn, I feared being pushed away, for he liked me little when we first met. Yet, friends, we are, and he is my dearest friend. I thought it was enough, and yet now,” Glorfindel shook his head, looking miserable, “now my traitorous heart finds it will not be content with this hard-won friendship. Instead, it longs for what can never be. What will destroy what little I have if it ever comes to light? He will not, I think, ever forgive me for such weakness.”
“O, my friend,” Lindir murmured, placing a comforting hand on Glorfindel’s arm, all signs of jesting vanishing from his face. “You do not, I think, give yourself enough credit. nor place enough faith in him.”
“I have the uttermost faith in him,” Glorfindel objected, now refusing to meet the minstrel's eyes. “No doubt he would be quite gentle with me, and after the first rejection, he would endeavor to limit his time with me so as not to make it more painful on my part."
“Glorfindel,” Lindir began slowly, his voice falling low until it was almost a whisper. “I do not believe that, upon hearing this truth, Erestor would cease to be your friend.”
Glorfindel shook his head, his eyes still focused on some distant place across the hall.
"How could he not? He would withdraw from me, for his sake as well as mine. Then I would be truly lost, Lindir, having lost the one I love and my dearest friend in one swoop. Nay, I would rather keep his friendship and lock away this foolish love, for I would have that rather than naught."
“You ought to tell him,” Lindir insisted, squeezing the captain’s arm. “He should know.”
Glorfindel shook his head and stood. “Nay, I have made my choice. Forget it, I beg you.”
“My friend,” Lindir said, standing and grabbing Glorfindel’s arm. “I have known him longer than you, and I love him as I love a few others, and I say to you, keeping silent is a mistake.”
“Forget it,” Glorfindel said, coolly pulling his arm from the minstrel's grasp. “If you love me at all, Lindir, you will leave it alone. Please, forget it.”
Lindril watched the captain stalk across the hall, oblivious to the many faces that turned his way as he passed. The minstrel sighed, considering taking a moment to follow after Glorfindel, but with a shake of his head, he sank back into his seat instead. He knew not what words to use to offer comfort without betraying the trust of others. Fools, stubborn, and cowardly fools the pair of them.
“What did you say to Glorfindel to cause him to stalk out of here on a warpath?" she asked in a soft voice from behind him.
“I gave him some unwelcome advice,” Lindir admitted without turning, choosing instead to focus on his cup and the way the wine swirled as he turned it. “I have given such advice before, though it seems Glorfindel is no more inclined to take it than the others.”
“Perhaps you should cease to give it then.”
“Perhaps, I should.” Lindir admitted sadly, “Yet I wish to see them happy, and it hurts to know that they are kept from it by their own foolishness and fear.”
Gentle laughter tinkled as she settled herself beside him. Arwen leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes fixed on the place where Glorfindel had disappeared moments before.
“You are a good friend, Lindir,” she told him gently. “Yet, you need not fear for their sake. They will come together on their own. Though they do not know it, the path is already set beneath their feet. Already, they are walking it."
Startled, Lindir looked down at the elfling beside him, yet she did not look up. Her words held more than comfort; after centuries of serving at Elrond’s side, Lindir was certain that those words rang with the weight of prophecy.