“It is indeed an honor, my lord,” Elrond replied, bowing even lower.

Gil-galad laughed. “Please stand up, sir. It would be easier to speak to each other face-to-face, would it not?”

Elrond smiled as he rose. “An excellent point, my lord.”

“Now, what is it you desire?” the other elf inquired pleasantly. “Are you in need of food or shelter?”

“Neither, sire,” Elrond replied politely. “My companions and I merely heard you singing, and I came to investigate. I did not mean to intrude upon you. Please accept my humble apologies.”

“You are forgiven,” the King told him brightly. “Where and whom are your comrades? I would like to meet them.”

“Then I shall indeed introduce you to them,” Elrond nodded. “But I believe at least two of them are currently asleep, or they were when I left.”

Gil-galad chuckled again. “Then you need not disturb them.”

Elrond nodded, beckoning the King forward. “Please come this way, sire.”

Maglor looked up at a faint noise from above, then rose to his feet as two figures came down the hillside toward him. Elrond was in the lead; the elf behind him was unfamiliar, but radiated authority. The son of Fëanor bowed low as he approached.

Elrond smiled. “May I introduce Maglor, son of Fëanor, my good friend and comrade.”

Gil-galad nodded politely, but Elrond saw his gaze linger for a moment on the Fëanorian star emblazoned on Maglor’s chest. The elf squirmed uneasily under this scrutiny; Elrond deliberately moved between them.

“It isn’t what it looks like,” he said hurriedly, bowing low as he addressed the King. “No doubt you have heard of his reputation, and it is imperative that you know this; Maglor has renounced his Oath as a Kinslayer. He is reformed and redeemed.”

“Redeemed by whom?” Gil-galad frowned, his eyebrows knitting.

“By the very person who first cursed him,” Elrond replied.

The King nodded. “Did you witness this?”

“I did, sire. I was at Maglor’s side when Lord Mandos gave the verdict.”

“When did this happen?”

Elrond drew a breath, refusing to show his emotions as memories poured relentlessly into his head. “This morning.”

Gil-galad nodded again, looking concerned. “You seem troubled. Is there something I can do for you?”

Elrond sighed and shook his head as a single rebellious tear led a silent revolution down his face. “I am afraid only Lord Manwë has the power to awaken the dead.”

The King bowed his head. “I am sorry.”

Elrond nodded, drying his tears with a sleeve. Gil-galad gave him a compassionate glance before turning his gaze to the twins, who were still peacefully asleep.

Elrond noticed the direction of his stare and informed him softly, “These are my godsons, sire. Elrond the Second and Elros.”

Gil-galad smiled. “They look strangely like you. I would have thought that you were their father, had you not told me otherwise.”

“Sheer coincidence,” the half-elf replied casually. “They are the children of Eärendil and Elwing; I have been caring for them for several months now, with Maglor’s help.”

The King nodded, glancing at Maglor once more. This time, however, his dark blue eyes held a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.

“And what has become of your brother, Maedhros?” he asked the son of Fëanor.

MaglorÂ’s throat constricted instantly and painfully, and he answered the King with great difficulty.

“I am sorry to say that he was badly wounded, sire. Elrond and I tended to him as well as we could, but fate was not in his favor.”

It was only a slight lie. Maglor didnÂ’t know what he was feeling at all. Could the creature who had mercilessly slaughtered an innocent elleth, who had nearly murdered him, ever be honestly pitied? Dare he even acknowledge him as brother, after seeing him in such an enraged, cold-blooded state? He had seemed more animal than elfÂ…

But Gil-galadÂ’s voice mercifully rescued him from the black mists of fear and doubt.

“If it is Lindon you are seeking, then you need only cross the mountains. You four were fortunate enough to arrive just south of the pass. I can guide you, if you wish; I could lead you to my city.”

“Thank you, sire,” Elrond replied gratefully. “I’d consider it a privilege to be escorted by you.”

The King nodded, smiling. “Excellent. Would you prefer to leave now, or at dawn?”

Elrond glanced down at the sleeping twins before replying, “Perhaps it would be good to allow the children a good night’s rest.”

“Very well,” Gil-galad nodded, turning to leave. “I shall return for you at sunrise.”

Morning could never have come fast enough. Elrond was awake before dawn; he wanted to be ready as soon as possible. His sleep had been riddled with dreams and memories of Lindon, and everything he had heard and seen there in his past life. But something told him that was all going to change.

Now Elrond leapt up as the figure of Gil-galad appeared at the top of the same hill he had found him on the night before. The King was lit up by the breaking day, his skin seeming to glow in the sunÂ’s first rays.

As he descended and approached, Elrond couldnÂ’t help but notice how young Gil-galad really was; he looked barely of age, though he was tall and well-built. His long hair was revealed to be a deep chocolate brown, much like ElwingÂ’s had been.

Elrond struggled to hold back tears at the memory of his mother, bending down to rouse Maglor. The son of Fëanor soon became alert, and helped his friend in waking the twins while Elrond packed up and saddled their horses.

Once elves and steeds were all ready, they followed the King through the mountain pass. To a new land, and a new lifeÂ’s promise.

The journey took slightly longer than Elrond expected, but after a few days the friends came to a splendid city of white stone, reminiscent of CirdanÂ’s home on the Isle of Balar. The half-elf gazed around him in awe as they entered.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Gil-galad smiled. “Cirdan and I built it.”

“You know Lord Cirdan?” Elrond exclaimed.

“Oh, yes,” the King nodded. “Was he a friend?”

“Indeed he was! I worked on Vingilot with he and Eärendil.”

“You helped to build Eärendil’s silver ship? You must be joking!” cried Gil-galad.

“I assure you, my lord, I’m telling the absolute truth. But I only helped a small amount,” said Elrond humbly. “My part was a minor one.”

“But anyone would be honored to claim they had a hand in it,” the King told him. “Don’t be so modest!”

“I was only being honest,” Elrond insisted.

Elves gathered all around them to get a glimpse of the new arrivals. They were all talking and whispering excitedly, and those nearest the King bowed low as he approached. He had obviously won the utmost respect of his people, Elrond thought.

He smiled as he met the gaze of a tall elf a fair distance from them, whose eyes sparkled in the sunlight; they were an unusual bright turquoise. There was something very familiar about themÂ…

Gil-galad smiled brightly as he spoke to his comrade. “If you’re looking at the elf I think you’re looking at, then he is an old friend of yours.”

The elf in question came forward as he bowed to the King, and Elrond saw his long hair and tidy beard, both of silvery hue. There could be no mistaking the shipwright.

“Mae govannen, Lord Cirdan,” (Well met) the half-elf couldn’t resist calling out.

CirdanÂ’s fair face lit up in a smile, and he nodded in respect, but the small group was past him before he had a chance to speak. Elrond glanced back over his shoulder at him as he was lost to sight.

After taking their horses to the stables, Elrond, Maglor and the twins followed Gil-galad to his throne room. His servants brought in chairs for the guests, and the King sat down in his customary seat.

“Welcome to Mithlond!” he said cheerfully. “I hope that all of you enjoy your time here; you are more than welcome to remain as long as you wish. I will gladly prepare lodgings for the four of you…” (You mean the three of us, Elrond thought) “…and have clothing made for you as well.”

“Thank you, my lord,” replied Maglor. “I believe I speak for all of us when I say that this is an honor and a privilege.”

Gil-galad beamed. “Thank you, Lord Maglor! It is I who am honored to have such guests as you. There are many things about you all that I do not yet know… but I shall leave that up to you to reveal, if you should wish it. I will not intrude.”

And speaking of intrusions, there came a soft knock on the chamber door.

“Come in!” the King called, rising smoothly from his throne; the others followed his lead. “Ah, Lord Cirdan! Good to see you!”

“Good afternoon, sire,” the silver-haired elf replied, bowing low as he entered the room. “I hope I am not interrupting…?”

“Not at all, not at all,” Gil-galad smiled. “Please, sit down… Cúron, bring another chair, won’t you…”

A dark-haired ellon leapt up to do the KingÂ’s bidding, bowing to everyone assembled and darting from the room like a shadow. He returned a minute later with the requested chair, bowed again, and departed.

Cirdan took his seat, nodding respectfully to Elrond and Maglor as he did. They returned the gesture, and Gil-galad addressed the latest guest.

“What is it you were wanting, Cirdan? Don’t hesitate to speak, please.”

The shipwright nodded obediently. “I’m here to tell you that Queen Eithelien requests a meeting with you in her chambers, but if you’re busy…”

“I was just speaking to our guests, actually,” the King told him. “Does she have anything in particular to discuss, or is it a casual affair?”

“She seemed quite calm when I spoke to her,” the shipwright replied. “You needn’t hurry too much.”

Gil-galad nodded, rising and striding toward the door. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Cirdan turned to Elrond once the King left the room, nodding his head courteously as he spoke.

“Have I been hearing correctly? Are you the same elf who accompanied Lord Eärendil to my home, and helped us to build Vingilot?”

Elrond smiled, extending a hand. “I am indeed. It is a great pleasure to meet you again.”

“A very great pleasure,” the shipwright agreed, grasping Elrond’s hand in a firm grip and shaking it heartily. “It has been a while.”

Elrond nodded. “It sometimes feels that way. But two and a half years, by our standards, can also seem rather short.”

Cirdan sighed. “Time is a fickle thing; it moves at an unpredictable pace. Swift or slow, it seems to be mostly inconvenient. Especially since we have so much of it at our disposal.”

Elrond nodded wordlessly. He had rarely considered that. He glanced discreetly down at his younger self, sighing without a sound. He had such a long life ahead of him, and yet he had already seen so much darkness and dangerÂ…

But it couldnÂ’t be helped. What was done, was done.

Cirdan noticed the elf looking away, however briefly and secretly he had tried to do it. He followed ElrondÂ’s line of sight, and smiled as he met the curious gaze of Elrond II.

“Why, hello,” the shipwright smiled benignly. “Who might you be, little one?”

“Elrond the Sec’nd,” said the child in a small voice. Then, remembering his manners, he asked, “How do you do, sir?”

“I do very well, thank you,” Cirdan replied warmly. “I can tell you’ve been well brought up.”

“Thank you,” said Elrond II, smiling and blushing a little. Cirdan smiled as well, looking down at Elros and exchanging similar courtesies.

The shipwright then turned to Maglor, who had not spoken for a while. The son of Fëanor shifted slightly under Cirdan’s gaze, but held his head high.

Elrond I soon spotted them, and rushed to break the thickening quiet.

“Lord Cirdan,” he smiled, “this is my good friend Maglor, son of Fëanor. Maglor, this is Lord Cirdan, formerly of Balar.”

The elves traded greetings, both looking distinctly uneasy. Elrond sighed silently, hoping that someday Maglor would be accepted for who he was now, not who he had once been. Apparently his former infamy still smothered the truth of his redemption. But the half-elf still prayed for the best.