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"What do you mean, they're alive?" said Gil-Galad.
The elf in Fëanorian colors who had introduced himself as Erestor crossed his arms. "Prince Elros and Prince Elrond will be here with the rest of their followers in three days, along with the family and people of Prince Elros's betrothed. Are you going to welcome them, or are we going to have a problem?"
"How do I know you're not lying to me? I've had no news of the twins in decades, these could be impostors." He was privately satisfied to see Erestor's mask crack slightly.
"I assure you, your majesty, they are the genuine fucking article. Maia children are difficult to mistake, and even more difficult to deal with when they are young and mischievous," said Erestor. "You will see. And they are your kinsmen, so we will take offense if they are not treated with courtesy."
A threat. Lovely. "I will welcome them to my court," he said.
Erestor snorted. "What court? You have practically nothing and no one here. You're lucky our lords have seen fit to grace this place with their presence, and have not seen fit to take up their rightful place as High King and so oust you. Not yet, at least," he amended.
Gil-Galad's first thought upon seeing Elrond was that he was beautiful. The second, which followed so closely as to practically be part of the first, was that he was a threat.
Elros, too, set off warning bells in his mind, but he was busy making eyes at the Adaneth by his side, who walked like a warrior and held her head like a queen, too busy to register quite so strongly as a danger.
"Welcome, kinsmen, and noble ladies of the Edain," said Gil-Galad. "I am happy to receive you here in Lindon, and to know that you are well."
"Thank you," said Elrond, giving him a calculating look. "I doubt we'll be here inordinately long, but we appreciate your welcome."
Perhaps not angling for his crown, then. He could only hope. "Where do you plan on going?"
"I shall be going to the Isle of Gift, having been granted the fate of Men," said Elros with a wide smile. "But my brother has chosen immortal life instead, and that means the kinslayers whose loyalty we've inherited are his problem."
"Yes, how did that happen?" said Gil-Galad. "The last I heard, you were hostages."
"We were," said Elrond, "but we were far too cute not to be granted formal adoption and made heirs to the House of Fëanor."
That made about as much sense as the rest of it, he supposed. "You're welcome to stay in Lindon, if you can promise your people will do no harm," Gil-Galad said, and hoped he meant it.
"If there is trouble, I assure you they will not have started it," said Elrond serenely.
A month of mildly tense "family" dinners later, Elrond came to Gil-Galad's study in private.
"I think I may be staying longer than anticipated," he announced. "I can't leave the coast just yet, I need to be able to visit Elros. He's going to be a king of Men, you know."
That was news, but Gil-Galad tried not to look surprised. "That is wonderful, I wish him all happiness."
"You are going to need an emissary to the Isle of Gift. Elros is my brother. I can do that for you, if you think you can trust me."
"Oh? Please do make your case," said Gil-Galad, curious as to what he would say. He still could not bring himself to trust the twins, being surrounded by kinslayers who were happy to proclaim their loyalty at length, especially in front of those Fëanorians who had abandoned their old lords and gone to Celebrimbor. He shifted the papers on his desk so that Elrond wouldn't see anything secret.
Elrond didn't comment on it, only sat across from him. "I have no designs on the crown," he said plainly. "I don't want to be a king. Your position is safe from me, I promise you."
"Many would say it is your destiny to be a king," Gil-Galad commented, but Elrond wrinkled his nose.
"Destiny should not be thrown around so carelessly by people who don't see what is to come in their dreams. I could claim a good number of crowns and lordships if I wanted to, and I don't. That's not something I feel like spending my immortal life on. But..." He leaned in over the table. "I could be very useful to a king. I have been trained by great warriors and statesmen, my brother is to be a ruler, I am immune to curses and ill-luck, I attained a mastery in healing and architecture both, I see the future. I also have a number of terrifyingly devoted kinslayers under my command, who would be (however grudgingly) loyal to you if I demonstrated that I was as well."
It was definitely a tempting prospect. "And why would you swear your loyalty like that when you could just as easily go off with your people and live in peace elsewhere? Or convince them to sail to Valinor?"
"Valinor? Absolutely not. I haven't yet lived enough to give up and leave Middle-Earth. When I'm ready to go to Valinor, I'll know," he said. "Anyway, you interest me, Gil-Galad, and I think if I'm with you then fate will lead me to where I want to be. That is, if it doesn't turn out that where I want to be was by your side all along."
"If you're trying to flirt with me, you ought to know I'm not cut out for that kind of thing," said Gil-Galad.
"Well, I wasn't intending to," said Elrond, crossing his arms. "I'm only fifty-nine, anyway. Atya would return from the dead and lecture me, and also probably kill you for looking at me. Atto still might."
"I think that the first key to getting your king to trust you is to not threaten him with your murderous foster parents."
"I don't know. It seems to be working pretty well, given that you're openly smiling."
Gil-Galad allowed his unexpected smile to become a bright laugh. "Oh, you've convinced me, Elrond. I could use a friend." He held out his hand.
Elrond took it. "You're getting more than a friend, Gil-Galad. You're getting a partner." He grinned. "And some very good optics, having tamed a wild Fëanorian and made him a loyal asset to the crown."
In the end, he had been entirely right that Elrond was a terrifying threat. He'd just mistaken who the threat was for.