"Are you sure I should be here for this?" Glorfindel seated himself on the edge of the chair, as if ready to bolt from Elrond's office at the slightest provocation.
"I think so, yes. What Celebrian has said makes me wonder about Erestor and I feel that a witness is needed. Besides, the idea that he watches what I do with Faelon…" Elrond let the sentence hang.
"Indeed. Judging from the gossip I hear, the spectacle is well worth watching." The warrior grinned impishly.
Elrond's dark brows drew down in a frown and his eyes turned stormy. "Gossip?"
"Come now, my old friend, you cannot tell me that you don't know you and Faelon are the topic of much speculation. His tastes are well known, and by association, one assumes yours coincide with his."
Elrond could not disagree nor could he stop the residents of Imladris from their speculations. Deciding that nothing could be done about either, Elrond let the matter go.
Erestor wandered through the primrose bushes and took the path leading to the willow trees. He stood for a moment listening to the ripple of the stream in its bed and tried to remember how it felt when he'd first come to Rivendell. For three hundred years he'd served as Elrond's advisor at court. Somewhere along the line Erestor had lost a bit of his innocence. He could argue that it had happened that fateful day when he'd discovered Elrond and Faelon beneath the willow branches.
Though he'd been shocked by what he'd seen, he'd been aroused by it. His obsession had led him to continuously seek out his lord wherever he and Faelon might be and watch their activities. He wasn't sure when his obsession had turned to love and he was equally uncertain how to proceed so he'd done nothing all these centuries. He never dreamed that someone knew about his self-destructive voyeurism any more than he dreamed it would be used against him. He had no doubts in his mind why Golrahir came to remind him that he had an audience with Lord Elrond. Only he now had to come up with his defense. And he had no defense. He could not say to his Lord that he had once seen how he beat his lover and that the spectacle had so aroused him that he was unable to think of anything else. Nor could he tell Elrond that, after witnessing the way he beat Faelon with a willow switch and made him beg for more, Erestor had fallen in love. Would it matter what he said? Erestor doubted that Elrond would be willing to listen to anything at this point. His mind turned from Elrond to Celebrian. She had her own games, he came to realize. Yet just what those games were and what she hoped to win in the end was a mystery to him. Obviously, she hated Faelon. How did that translate to him? Did she resent his watching the couple at their games? Probably, his mind answered. Still, getting him dismissal would not end Faelon's relationship with Elrond.
As he was about to enter the house, Erestor met the twins. They were dressed
casually and walked arm-in-arm. He nodded to them as he passed, but did not
stop to speak as he was pressed for time. They nodded in turn, but let him
pass unmolested.
"I feel sorry for Erestor," observed Elrohir. "He is obviously lonely."
"More than likely, else he would not spy on Father and Faelon so."
"Like you have not," teased his twin. "I would be willing to lay odds that half of Imladris has witnessed their 'games' at some point."
"They have sometimes been indiscreet," agreed Elladan. "Do you think he will remain?"
"No, I do not," Elrohir said sadly. "He will help Father with Thranduil and then he will sail. He is unhappy here, I think. And who could blame him?"
"Whatever do you mean? If he is lonely, the fault lies with him."
"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. Have you not realized he is in love?"
Elladan thought for a moment. "Ah. Now it makes sense."
Erestor arrived outside of Elrond's office sweaty and breathless from his run. He'd dallied too long by the stream and had almost been late. He slapped his knuckles upon the office door and waited for permission to enter.
Glorfindel opened the door and beckoned Erestor inside. "Come in, Erestor. We've been waiting for you."
Erestor entered cautiously, as if expecting an ambush. "I had not thought that you would be here," he said to Glorfindel as he seated himself.
"Neither did I," observed the warrior dryly. "Lord Elrond has had other ideas, I fear."
"Good evening, my lord," Erestor said.
"Thank you for being here." Elrond kept his tone light and neutral. He did not want to frighten Erestor in to silence by making the advisor feel threatened.
Erestor said nothing, only watched Elrond, and waited.
After a short pause, Elrond realized Erestor was already retreating into his legendary silence. "The first matter we need to address is Lady Celebrian. I am concerned that you may have made inappropriate suggestions to her."
"Apparently there has been some misunderstanding between Lady Celebrian and myself. I have no designs on her, though I intend no slight to her for my lack of interest." Erestor hated having to defend himself against the lie and wondered anew at Celebrian's games.
"For your anniversary, she gave you a hairclip. According to her, the gift was an appeasement."
Erestor stared at a spot over Elrond's head and thought for a moment. He chose his words with unusual care. "I do not know why she felt I needed appeasing, my lord. The gift was unexpected and I was shocked by it for it spoke of a level of intimacy that she and I did not share. If by word or by deed, I gave her the impression that I needed to be bribed, then I apologize."
"You never threatened her?" Elrond leaned forward and placed his hands palms down atop the desk. "You never threatened to make public my relationship with Faelon before the high council and disinherit my children?"
"My lord, surely you realize that your relationship with Faelon is already a matter of public record? What could I add?"
"Apparently quite a lot, Erestor. Is it true that you spied on us? Why?"
Erestor at last lowered his eyes. The moment he'd been dreading had arrived. Now, however, came the hardest part of all. His humiliation would be complete. He still had no idea how to answer the accusation and his mind whirled. Oh, how he hated Celebrian in that moment.
"Father! Glorfindel! Are you in there?" From behind the closed door, Elladan's frantic voice could be heard clearly.
"Come," Elrond and Glorfindel both rose simultaneously from their seats as the door burst open and Elladan stood, framed for a moment in the glow of shaded lamps and stared from his father to the warrior to Erestor. His face was nearly drained of all color and his gray eyes were luminous with panic.
"Come quickly. Faelon…" Elladan paused and caught his breath. "Faelon has been injured."
Elrond bolted from around the desk and past his son. "Where is he?"
"The gardens." Elladan gave Erestor the oddest look. "You have just come from the gardens, have you not?"
"Aye, I have. I was down by the stream, where the willow trees are." Erestor answered. He had a sick feeling in his stomach.
Glorfindel followed Elrond and together they sprinted to the gardens. Erestor, closely followed by Elladan, came more slowly.
Outside, the gardens had already gathered a crowd that made way for Elrond and Glorfindel. "Where is he?" Asked the lord.
"Here, Father," Elrohir pointed down a short path leading to a fountain. "You will find him at the fountain."
"Why is no one with him?" Elrond thundered as he raced past his son with Glorfindel close behind.
Elrohir stared at Erestor for a moment before his gaze settled on Melpomaen and Saelbeth. They'd met while in the gardens and fought, apparently, for the twins had heard their voices carrying quite clearly in the evening air. That's what had led them to discover Faelon. They had gone in search of Melpomaen and his lover to quiet them down. Only they'd never quite made it to the couple.
"No," Elrond's voice rang over the hushed babble of voices.
Erestor blanched at the heart wrenching sound. "Please, Elladan, will you not tell us what is wrong with Faelon?"
"You truly do not know?" Elladan stared coldly at Erestor. "Surely you saw him while you were out 'walking'."
"I saw only Melpomaen."
Glorfindel came from the direction of the fountain. His face was drawn and as every bit as pale as Elladan's had been. "Faelon is beyond the aid of healers," he said woodenly. "I will ask that everyone who has been in the gardens tonight come to the library."
Erestor looked around with a frown on his face. What had happened to his friend? "Glorfindel?"
"Faelon is dead, Erestor, and I will say nothing more at this time. You were in the gardens, did you say?" When Erestor gave an affirmative, Glorfindel continued. "Then join me in the library."
One by one, the elves assembled themselves and began walking to the library. Among those who followed Glorfindel were Erestor, Melpomaen, Saelbeth and Lindir. The twins remained behind to help their father.
Elrond knelt beside Faelon, unmindful of the blood seeping in to his robes. He caressed the pale face and brushed back the long hair. Blood had matted in the tresses and Elrond scooped water from the fountain and tried to wash the sticky mess away. The fountain began to flow red. Faelon's head was tilted back, as though he'd been gazing at the stars. The knife wound was visible in this throat, as though whoever had killed him, had been standing directly over him. Though his death had been swift, it had not been painless.
"Who would do this thing?" Elrond's hands trembled and his voice broke as he stroked and petted the beloved body. Tears ran unheeded down his cheeks and dripped on to Faelon's still form. "Who would dare?"
Elladan and Elrohir stood with their arms wrapped around one another. "Father, Glorfindel is gathering everyone who was in the gardens tonight. Why don't you let us take Faelon's—Faelon to the house of healing so that he can be washed and examined?" Elladan said.
"We will take good care of him, Father," added Elrohir.
Wordlessly, Elrond gathered the lifeless body into his arms and lifted Faelon one last time against his chest. Faelon's head fell forward and his hair swayed, covering the ghastly wound and leaving the casual observer with the impression that he was asleep. Elrond laid his chin atop Faelon's head for a moment. "I will carry him."
"I would like for everyone to consider who may have seen you or who you may have seen in the gardens earlier." Glorfindel seated himself on a stool and looked at the small gathering.
Several more elves entered the library and quietly took seats. Everyone looked at everyone else, their minds numbed from shock and sorrow.
"Erestor and I spoke on the main path," volunteered Melpomaen. "Afterwards, I saw Saelbeth near one of the lesser fountains."
Saelbeth nodded. "We argued about Erestor. I was there for sometime, but saw no one. I wasn't expecting to see anyone, either. I had gone there for solitude."
Lindir wiped conspicuously at his tear-stained face. "I was near the statue of Gil-Galad, composing."
"I saw no one down by the stream," ventured Erestor. "After I came back, I did see the princes. But I did not stop for I was already late for my meeting with Elrond."
Glorfindel's blue eyes scanned the hem of Erestor's robes. He noted they were damp and that grass stains covered the sides of his shoes. He may have been at the stream, but where else might he have been? He hesitated to speak his thoughts aloud in front of others; however, he did not know that he had any choice. "Erestor, forgive me, but these questions I must ask."
Erestor tensed in anticipation. Logically, he was a suspect. That it was logic prompting the questions and nothing more did not make Erestor feel any more at ease. "Ask what you will, Lord Glorfindel."
The warrior looked around the room one last time. "Did you kill Faelon?"
"Faelon was my friend, Glorfindel. I would have done nothing to harm him," answered Erestor with quiet dignity. "I am guilty of some things that I have caused me great trouble, but nothing I have done—or ever would do—would be to hurt Lord Elrond."
Glorfindel's heart flooded with relief. He had believed Erestor when he said that he'd not murdered Faelon. Even though the words were spoken, the warrior was uncertain if Elrond would believe anything Erestor said, but he was satisfied.
Saelbeth turned and looked at Melpomaen. "Where is your knife?"
"My what?"
Glorfindel's eyes rose but he allowed them their private-public discussion.
"The knife I gave you. You always have it in your belt. Where is it?" Saelbeth pointed to his lover's waist and the leather sheath.
Melpomaen's hand flew to his waist and he felt of the empty sheath. "I do not know."
"Did you?" Saelbeth's eyes were wide with horror.
"Saelbeth how could you even think such a thing?"
"I think such a thing because everyone knows that you are in love with Erestor and that Erestor is in love with Faelon."
Erestor's eyebrows shot up. "I am not –was not—in love with Faelon, Melpomaen. Where did you hear such a rumor?"
"I heard it from Saelbeth."
Saelbeth's face darkened as he was caught spreading gossip and exposed by his lover. "I apologize, Erestor. Golrahir led me to believe you were. I used that information to try to persuade Melpomaen to abandon his hopes for you."
Elladan, followed by Elrohir entered the library and took seats on either side of the warrior. "Father won't allow any one else to touch Faelon and has taken him to the House of Healing. We are to wait here for him."
"I wouldn't imagine so," murmured Erestor. He stared at the high ceiling, examining the frescoes through tear-filled eyes. Though he and Faelon had quarreled only hours before, he'd hoped to salvage their friendship, given time and opportunity. Now he would never have that opportunity and his heart felt as though a flame-tipped spear had been pushed through it.
"Why did you two argue this afternoon?" Elrohir demanded.
"You and Faelon quarreled?" Glorfindel wondered how much that changed the situation.
"He yelled. I listened." Erestor corrected. "He was angry and unreasonable."
"Why?" Glorfindel wanted to know.
Erestor's dark eyes shifted from the ceiling to the blond. "Please, Glorfindel, do not put me through this."
"The altercation was physical," supplied Elladan.
All eyes shifted to Erestor, awaiting the revelation they felt surely must be noteworthy. Not only that, but perhaps, it would reveal that Erestor had a motive and solve the mystery of Faelon's death so that they could go on about their business of mourning their friend and colleague
When Glorfindel stared unblinking at Erestor, the advisor sighed. "He accused me of spying upon he and Lord Elrond. He believed, or so it seemed, that I was trying to steal his place in Lord Elrond's heart."
Lindir's head snapped up and he glared at Erestor. "That's vile."
"Perhaps." Erestor begrudged Lindir, and maybe others, the judgment. "I did not intend to try and come between Lord Elrond and Faelon. I am not sure where he might have gathered such a notion, but it was far from the truth. Besides, I would be the primary suspect, would I not, if something happened to Lord Elrond or Faelon? As in now?"
Glorfindel decided to remove some of the heat from Erestor for the moment. "Elladan? Elrohir? Please form a detail and take lanterns in to the garden. Let us hope to find the weapon used on Faelon. Let us also hope that the weapon did not belong to Melpomaen. Tell me, what does the knife look like?"
Melpomaen opened and closed his mouth a few times as words formed in his brain that his mouth refused to articulate. "Surely, Lord Glorfindel, you do not s-suspect me?"
"Indeed, I do. Your knife is missing and Faelon was, in your mind, an obstacle in obtaining Erestor's affections."
Erestor stirred. "He would not have done that to Faelon, Glorfindel."
"Everyone in the library is either a suspect or a witness. Again, what does your knife look like?"
When Melpomaen merely stared, Saelbeth spoke up. "The handle is bone and carved with dragons and griffins." He ignored his lover's accusatory glance.
The twins left after that, having received their mission and the description of the weapon. Even with lanterns and keen elven eyesight, the weapon might elude them. But all knew the twins would not stop until every inch of the garden had been overturned.
"I want everyone to remain here until I return with Lord Elrond." Glorfindel moved from his stool and headed towards the doors.
Erestor placed his hands in is lap and knotted his fingers together. He stared at the floor for a long moment, allowing his long flowing hair to obscure his features. Glorfindel entered the healing house and looked around. Several of the lesser healers and trainees were already present. Their hushed voices seemed over loud in the silence. In a side chamber, he could hear as well as see Elrond as he knelt over Faelon. Glorfindel's heart wrenched as he listened to Elrond speaking to his dead love. Silently, he entered the small chamber.
Faelon had been stripped and his clothes lay in a neat bundle on a chair. Indecently exposed, Faelon's beauty was nonetheless staggering for the gaping wound in his throat and the faint lines and bruises upon his body. Glorfindel knew enough to recognize those marks as old and inflicted with careful precision. He wondered, not for the first time, at Elrond and Faelon's preferred method of lovemaking. He had never quite understood the appeal, but he'd never criticize.
Without looking up, Elrond responded to the presence in the room. "Leave."
"I can't, my friend."
"Erestor did this."
"Nay, Elrond, I believe he is innocent. He claims to have been by the stream, near the willow trees. His robes are damp on the ends and his shoes are grass stained."
"He could have killed Faelon and then went tot he stream to wash away traces of the deed."
"So it would seem, but would his clothes not be completely wet instead of just the hem of his robes? Elrond, I know you are hurting and angry, but I beg you to use logic and wisdom in this. Let's not make a tragic error. Melpomaen's knife is missing, the one he always wears. Golrahir, according to Saelbeth put forth the information that Erestor was in love with Faelon. I suspect, judging from what Erestor said, someone—I believe Golrahir—may have intentionally led Faelon to believe that Erestor was trying to take you from him. They quarreled and the twins witnessed some of it. If I did not know better, I'd say that whoever murdered Faelon was trying to make it look like a lot of people. The natural assumption would be Erestor, but isn't that a little too obvious?"
Elrond lifted the cold hand to his lips and lightly kissed the knuckles in silent farewell. "You are right, of course." Gray eyes narrowed in angry concentration. "I will have justice."
"So long as you do not confuse justice with revenge, my friend."
"I care not which, Glorfindel. Make no mistake."
Outside in the gardens, a team led by Elrohir and Elladan scoured the area, searching for Melpomaen's missing knife. Near some step leading to a statue filled grotto, one of the searchers called out. "I have found it."
Elladan rushed over to see what had been found. The guard held a knife before his lantern. The weapon was double edged, about six inches long with a carved bone handle. Blood covered the knife from hilt to tip. Elladan held out his hand to receive the knife.
"Good work. I want you to stand guard over this area and let no one come near. I will send someone to stand with you."
"As you wish, Lord Elladan." The guard took up a position on the stairs as Elladan went to find his brother.
Elrond stood framed in the doorway. He looked terrible. His clothes and hair were blood stained and his face was white, not pale, but bone white. Yet his eyes were most striking for they were darker than normal, as though gathering storm clouds lurked in their depths. No one could meet his gaze as it swept the room. Behind him, Glorfindel looked ill at ease.
"Father," Elladan burst in to the room holding something cradled in the bottom of his tunic. "I believe we have found the missing weapon."
"Come, Melpomaen, look and tell us if this is yours." Glorfindel peered at the weapon but did not yet touch it.
Shakily, Melpomaen climbed to his feet and went to where Elladan stood holding the bloodied knife. He looked closely, noting how blood pooled in the whirls and strokes of the engraving. "Aye, it is mine. But I swear to you someone must have taken it unawares."
Elrond only stared at the object, offering no
opinion or advice. He noted the sharpened edges, serrated at the ends, and
mentally compared them with the wound in Faelon's throat. His sharp eyes had
noticed how the flesh was torn and jagged, as if the blade had been ripped
from the throat. He thought that there was a strong possibility that the weapon
had been used to kill his lover. What he did doubt was Melpomaen's involvement.
Odd, he mused, how he could assume Melpomaen was innocent but find Erestor
guilty without benefit of reason. At last he stirred. "I will take that.
There is yet much to be done."
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