Not everyone in the Great Hall was unarmed. Many of the Men, including King Elessar, and most of the Rohirrim who had survived the last battle wore ceremonial swords. Gimli the Dwarf had a pair of axes strapped over his back which he claimed were ceremonial, but Glorfindel knew otherwise, and Glorfindel himself was sporting a wicked double-edged broad sword that would cleave anything without losing its luster. It had more jewels on the hilt than Arwen was wearing, a fact which Glorfindel was well aware of as she had not stopped glaring at him all night.

When she cast a glance his way for the millionth time that night, Glorfindel took out his sword and tossed it up in the air a few inches, twirling it so the candle-light made the jewels reflect back at her with blinding clarity. Even though he was three tables away from the happy couple, he could see the distinct irritation in the flounce of Arwen's long curls as she tossed her head. Glorfindel chuckled sinisterly and sheathed the sword as Erestor elbowed him in the ribs.

"Do that again and I will make you give up that plaything to her as a wedding gift," he hissed.

"Make me how?" Glorfindel snickered.

"I will get Lord Elrond to do it, then," Erestor threatened.

"Do you think he would?" Glorfindel was genuinely worried for a moment. "Really, Erestor, you spoil all my fun and the way you gripe at me, everyone thinks we are a bonded couple."

Erestor's ears turned crimson. He hated implications of this sort. "Must you say such scandalous things all the time?"

"I know, I know – you only care for females," Glorfindel taunted him. "Nobody really believes the story about you having a wife in Valinor, you know."

"Believe it or not, it is the truth," Erestor insisted. "Ask Lord Elrond if you do not believe me."

"Mmmm," Glorfindel made a non-committal sound, mostly to irritate Erestor. It worked.

"It is true!"

"Certainly. I look forward to meeting her when we go there. In the meanwhile, it is your loss by not enjoying the company of your own sex. I assure you, it can be quite pleasurable." Glorfindel loved to flaunt his own bi-sexuality, mostly because it made him popular. Most elves enjoyed the company of either sex, whether they admitted it or not (and admitting it was not in general considered polite, at least not in Rivendell.)

"You drink too much," Erestor said, moving Glorfindel's wine cup.

"You do not drink enough," Glorfindel retorted, taking the cup back. "And speaking of drinking, where is that charming Prince Legolas? Last I saw him he was well into his cups and ripe for the plucking."

Erestor looked like he was going to have an apoplexy. A vein bulged in his neck and forehead. "Off limits, Glorfindel!"

"Why?"

"Do you wish to hear the short list of reasons or the long one?" Erestor hissed. "Have you met his father, to begin with?"

"I have not had the pleasure."

"King Thranduil is one of the meanest, most foul-tempered elves in all of Arda – and you would be too if you had to live in a filthy, dark swamp of a forest crawling with orcs, wargs, giant spiders, and who knows what else. Legolas is his pride and joy – the only thing he loves more than wine and orgiastic parties. If you touch that boy in a moment of grieving, drunken, weakness we might as well all put our armor on, for Thranduil will declare war on Imladris, if not the entire world."

Glorfindel's eyes widened. "Surely you exaggerate," he said, then he frowned. "Who is he grieving for?"

Erestor smirked slightly and held his tongue for a moment. He loved knowing he was privy to information that others did not possess. Glorfindel shrugged, pretending he cared not. There were others he might ask.

"I have it on authority that Legolas is the lover of Haldir of Lórien," Erestor said, leaning forward to quietly mutter the words into Glorfindel's ear.

"Then why is he grieving, exactly?" Glorfindel asked. "Haldir came with us to Minas Tirith to be reunited with him. You do not suppose that nobody bothered to inform the prince that his lover is alive, do you?"

Erestor ignored this. "Legolas went out to the terrace with the twins, no doubt to imbibe some sobering air. No doubt Lord Elrond will give him the news when he feels the time is right."

Glorfindel stared at his companion, shaking his head. "Do you really believe that, Erestor? The twins are probably using him six different ways—"

"Glorfindel!"

"—except that they came back into the hall near an hour ago without him. You do not suppose they dumped him over the edge of the tower, do you?"

Erestor looked like this thought might kill him. Or like he might kill Glorfindel, except that Erestor was not armed. "Of course not!"

"And Elrond came back ten minutes ago."

Erestor looked around the room to verify both of these facts. "You are correct."

"Do not sound so surprised."

"Where is the prince, then?" Erestor wondered. "Ah, but it is not for us to worry. Perhaps someone put him to bed. As you said, he was well into his cups."

Glorfindel snickered again. Before Erestor could lecture him any further, the subject of their discussion burst into the room looking distraught. Automatically Glorfindel stood up, and Erestor coldly told him to sit down. Glorfindel ignored him, striding across the chamber as the prince sprinted towards the newly crowned King of Gondor. They arrived at Elessar's table in the same moment.

"Orcs!" Legolas panted. "Aragorn, there are orcs in the courtyard, at least a hundred of them."



"Legolas, that can't be possible," Elessar said, answering to his common name. The king had a pleasant voice with a rough edge to it that heated Glorfindel's blood. He was reminded of the one afternoon they had spent together in Elrond's bathing pool long, long ago when Aragorn had been a boy on the cusp of manhood, experimenting with his own desires. Once he had seen Arwen, however, that had ended, and never had he strayed from the light of his love for her.

"Orcs?" said Arwen lightly. "Everyone else brought gifts, Legolas. Why did you bring orcs?"

"I did not bring them," Legolas shouted. Arwen shook her head. Legolas clearly did not see that she was teasing. Glorfindel took a deep breath.

"He is right," he said, confirming what the prince had said. "I can smell them. Two levels down, maybe."

Legolas nodded. Aragorn looked from Legolas to Glorfindel and back, then stood, announcing the situation to the assembled company. Arwen lost her gaiety, her expression growing serious.

"Those of you with weapons, follow me," Aragorn said, but Glorfindel was already out the door, his weapon drawn, charging down the tower to battle. Legolas was beside him.

"Are you aware that Haldir of Lórien is alive?" Glorfindel hissed at him. "Make your way to the Houses of Healing, leave the orcs to me and to Elessar and the others. I can handle a mere hundred orcs by myself."

"I have seen him. He is still there, with Sam and Frodo."

"Who?"

"The hobbits!"

"Oh? Oh! The Ringbearer and his friend."

"Yes. I fight these orcs to protect them."

"That is all well and good, but perhaps they should have flown the Houses with you. Look – they are overrun."

As they turned the corner to meet the onslaught of creatures, they could see the broken doors of the Houses of Healing clogged with the foul creatures. Legolas let out a cry of rage that rang with desperation and threw himself in that direction. Cursing to himself, Glorfindel followed.