Summary: none given
Author's Notes: Seneschal: 1. the steward or major-domo of a medieval great house.
2. chiefly historical, a governor or other administrative or judicial
officer.
Timeline: T.A. 1100+
~~~
Part
One�
Elrohir struggled to
his feet and stood swaying in the gloom, his mind curiously light and
empty. He had no idea where he was or why, and neither question seemed
relevant. Something had hurt him, attacked him with a blow to the head,
and he needed to escape before it came back. �
He gave the large metal
box in the middle of the floor a puzzled look as he passed it. He had
an idea it had fallen from one of the nearby shelves but the details
were strangely unclear. Behind him, the lantern he had dropped at the
time of the accident lay forgotten;
the line of fire that sputtered towards the recently stacked boxes went
unnoticed. He was
almost at the door when flame met powder and a wall of sound swallowed
the world. A blast of searing air lifted him off his feet and hurled
him violently against the wall. �
In the moments that
he lay dazed on the floor, shock and the earlier blow to his head combined
to roll back the years of maturity, and his mind slid to childhood with
all its attendant tales and terrors.� Struggling to his knees, Elrohir
looked around wildly. He was under attack - a being of fire� whirling
whips of light�
flames leaping amidst a roar akin to thunder. �
A Balrog, he thought
in dawning horror. It must surely be a Balrog�
=====�
The fire roared, flames
licking along the cliffside above the storerooms, spreading rapidly
towards the living quarters near the kitchen.� Accompanying it
was a display of fireworks the like of which Imladris had never before
seen, a confusion of colours and shapes that exploded in a noisy, continuous
stream high above the House. �
Erestor�s office
was on the other side of the Last Homely House, and by the time he arrived
on the scene Caedion had already taken charge. The former warrior had
stationed himself near the storeroom�s entrance, and was busy shouting
orders and assigning duties. Amidst screams and cries and the crackle
of flames, a bucket line was in the process of being set up, while beaters
with wet sacks were already hard at work on the outskirts of the fire. �
Erestor came to a halt,
briefly mesmerized by the raw, elemental power that roared and spat
like a sentient being.� Shaking off fascination, he began to fasten
his hair up on top of his head and roll back his
sleeves, his mind racing as he tried to think what else, if anything,
needed to be done. He was about to arm himself with a sack when an idea
wrapped in memory struck him.�
�Go and find N�ngabel
and Cyllon,� he instructed a young Elf hovering nearby, naming two
Sindarin with a strong affinity for fire.� �Ask them if there
is some way they can halt the flames.� �
�No use in Elves
having so-called �magic� if they aren�t prepared to use it.�
Isildur�s words, the sneer intact a thousand years on, returned to
him. Hot-headed, long dead Isildur, who would have made a weapon of
anything he could get his hand around. Erestor had never liked Elendil�s
sons but this about �magic� was a point he had been willing to concede.�
Spotting the seneschal
about to join the beaters, Caedion yelled, �Not there, we have enough
hands for this. Inside. Join Berianir�s group. Make sure no one is
trapped.��
Waving acknowledgement,
Erestor wet a rag and, wrapping it about his head, did as bidden. Making
his way inside through clouds of smoke and ash, he looked around, taking
a moment to orient himself. The air was searing hot, his eyes stung
and teared. In minutes the loose ends of his hair began to crackle and
disintegrate. The area to the left of the entrance was for storage and
was currently engulfed in flames, whilst the rooms to the right were
residential. Stunned at the damage that had occurred in such a short
time, he turned right.�
Dodging falling masonry
and explosions of sparks, he soon caught sight of a small party of Elves
up ahead, but an instinct drew him off instead to explore one of the
many side passages. Half blinded by smoke, he quickly realised it was
both safer and wiser to operate in a group. He was about to turn back
and look for Berianir when, beneath the fire�s fury, he heard faint
sounds similar to the mewling of a kitten followed by very un-catlike
coughing. �
Moving carefully, he
tracked the cries to a doorway on the far side of a barrier of flames.
His mouth quirked in an ironic smile as he realised that, typical of
his luck, there was no one else close enough to lend a hand - he would
have to deal with this alone. He studied the line of fire for a moment,
estimating its speed, then took a deep breath and leapt through a gap
in the flames, hastening to push open the door. �
At first he thought
he had been mistaken, the room empty and the risk unnecessary. Then
through the billowing smoke he saw the figure of an elleth lying curled
in terror on the floor against the far wall, apparently in denial of
the horror beyond her door. The inner rooms were carved out of the cliffside,
the lack of windows making them the least desirable of the House�s
accommodation. It also meant that, for her, there was no escape except
through the flames.�
Erestor hurried to
her, bending to grasp her arm and shake her hard. He was a naturally
kind person, but there was a time and a place for everything, and no
room for gentleness when flames were almost literally licking at the
door.�
�Get up!� he snapped.
�Come on, girl. I�ll help you, but I�m not carrying you.�� �
The girl moaned softly
and, putting her hands over her face, began to cry. Erestor sighed.
Wars were easier, he thought. Warriors knew what they were meant to
be doing and did it. Usually. He knelt and pulled her into a seated
position, trying to ignore the increased crackling just beyond the doorway.
Placing an arm around her back and the other under her knees he lifted
her, staggering slightly under her weight before finding his balance. �
�Hold onto me. Close
your eyes. And try to keep still.��
The flames had grown
higher in the short time he had been in the room, and the heat was intense.
For a minute, half deafened by the noise, he leaned against the wall
and contemplated the fiery barrier between them and open air. Then,
taking a deep breath and holding it, he bent his head and ran. The flames
caught at his sleeve and at the trailing ends of the girl�s dress.
She began screaming, but by then they were already clear. �
Her cries had attracted
attention, and they were joined almost immediately by rescuers. Willing
hands helped extinguish the tongues of fire flickering along his sleeve
and her dress, then they were led outside to safety.�������������� �
=====�
Elrohir had no memory
of accidents and storerooms, no explanation for the inferno behind him
other than the one that had first sprang to mind - a Balrog. Defenseless
against an enemy before which most Elves would have quailed and fled,
and intent on naught beyond the need to escape, he stumbled unseen down
the path behind the stables and into the trees. Hide. He had to find
some place to hide. �
=====�
Erestor sat on a crate
sipping a cup of elderberry wine someone had pressed into his hand.
Currently he was watching N�ngabel and Cyllon, seated on the grass
a safe distance from the conflagration. Eyes remote, faces calm, they
seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Erestor had no idea what they
were doing, but the heart of the blaze had begun to subside shortly
after their arrival; buckets of water and wet sacks were proving sufficient
to the remaining task. �
At his suggestion an
informal headcount was underway which, he hoped, would confirm the lack
of fatalities. Not only had the people of this valley become his own
and dear to him, but he also felt there was something especially distressing
about Elves losing their lives as the result of natural forces. The
Firstborn were meant to be at one with the elements, able to adapt to
their many moods.�
Except for fire. Fire
turned dreams to ashes, ended Ages��
�You�re quite the
hero, they say.��
Glorfindel had not
so much as a hair out of place, although Erestor had seen him beating
out flames along the route to the kitchen. The reborn Elf almost always
managed to look impeccable, and Erestor privately wondered if personal
neatness had been a rule in Gondolin, a place known for improbable laws
governing all manner of civil behaviour. Either that or it was simply
one of those unlikely personal quirks. �
�No idea what you�re
talking about,� he responded coolly, looking up at the tall Elf with
the golden hair, so conspicuous in a community tending to darker shades. �
He and Glorfindel had
developed a relatively uncomplicated friendship. Occasionally they flirted,
often they bandied words; right now Erestor was in no mood for either.
He had spent what had felt like an eternity searching through burning
rooms, all, thankfully, unoccupied. The smoke had left him with a headache,
and the thought of all that would need to be done over the next few
days made him tired. The idea that it would have been nice if there
had been someone specifically worried for him was one that he had ruthlessly
stamped on. He loathed self-pity. �
He was also less than
comfortable dealing with praise, and changed the subject firmly. �Do
you know if anyone�s missing? Caedion seemed to think not...��
Glorfindel was a friendly,
easy-going tease, but he also knew when to stop. It was one of the reasons
Erestor, who normally kept the world at a polite distance, had slowly
allowed him into the small circle of people he regarded as friends.
Now the reborn Elf hunkered down beside the crate, shaking his head. �
�All the kitchen
staff seem accounted for. As well it happened during the day, though.
After dark could have been� very different.�� Glorfindel had
seen fire at night.� He reached a hand to Erestor's winecup as
he spoke and drank deeply before returning it with a dramatic shudder.
"Phuh, what is this? It's awful! How can you drink it?" Meeting
Erestor's eyes he added seriously, �Teasing aside, I�m told you
could have been trapped in there. It was work well done.� �
Erestor nodded brief
thanks then grinned. �The wine? Elderberry, I think � disgusting,
isn�t it? But it�s wet. Not really worried about the taste. Though
I notice that didn�t stop you from downing almost half. And you�re
right, if this had happened tonight, there would have been deaths.��
They sat together and
shared the wine in companionable silence, which was finally broken when
a fountain of green stars exploded high above the House, the first such
display for some time. �
�I meant to ask,�
Glorfindel said, gesturing. �Any idea where the fireworks came from?��
Erestor nodded briefly,
watching the spray of colour die away. �Yes, but I�m more interested
in how they got here. Elrond had ordered them stored well away from
the House in case of just such an accident.��
Glorfindel raised an
eyebrow and was about to ask further when Elladan joined them, his face
tense with worry. He was dressed with more formality than usual in response
to his role as temporary Lord of the Valley, and the hem of his elegant
blue robe was soot-blackened and damp. After a brief greeting, he hesitated
then asked in careful tones, �Has either of you seen my brother?��
Some tiny undercurrent
in his voice alerted Erestor. �No, not this afternoon.� He glanced
at Glorfindel, who also shook his head. �
�Not a sight of him,
no� the warrior confirmed.�
Elladan looked around,
biting his lip. This was the first time he had been left officially
in charge of Imladris in his father�s absence, and the feigned air
of confidence which he had been bringing to his role as Elrond�s substitute
seemed to have completely deserted him. �
�Is something wrong,
Elladan?� Erestor asked mildly. Deciding on a casual approach, he
handed the cup back to Glorfindel and set to tidying his hair, letting
it down from the knot on top of his head.�
�No... that is�
I�m not sure.� Elrond�s son, inheritor of his grandfather Celeborn�s
tall, slender frame and his father�s colouring, was staring at the
section of the House where the greatest damage had occurred. �They�ve
checked in there, right?� he asked. �In the storerooms? To make
sure they were empty.��
�I was in there myself,�
Glorfindel assured him. �As far as we could go, anyway. It�s a mess
� debris everywhere. That was � quite an explosion.��
He sounded impressed.
Fireworks were new to him, and thus far his only experience of them
had been during times of celebration. He had been unaware till now of
the damage a large scale detonation could cause.�
�Elladan, is there
something you would like to tell me?� Erestor asked uneasily, rising
as he spoke.� He knew the face of guilt when he saw it. �Is there
some reason why Elrohir might have been inside there? Is that why you
were asking if we had seen him?��
�Elrohir? I was right
then. Something seemed badly amiss with him.��
Gildor Inglorion had
moved up behind them with a hunter�s stealth but, as always, his appearance
turned heads. Plainly dressed after the manner of the wandering companies,
his only ornament was an intricately-worked silver broach that clasped
his grey cloak across one shoulder.� Lean and muscular, his auburn
hair hung in a straight, shining fall to his waist and his eyes were
the sharp green of a feral cat.�
As ever, his presence
was unheralded. He would appear in Imladris, stay for a week or a month,
and then fade back into the wild once more. He might bring twenty of
his companions along, he might arrive alone. What was most often remarked
upon was the way these visits had increased in the years since Erestor
had left the wandering companies to settle in the hidden valley.�
Now, his eyes alive
with curiosity, he turned to Elladan. �I saw your brother on my way
down to the bridge,� he explained.� �He told me to flee �
It was upon us. He appeared not to know me, but� well,
he seemed unhurt and I saw smoke rising from the House - I thought I
might be needed here. I tried to make him come with me, but he ran off
into the forest. I should have� Sparrow, what in Arda happened to
your hair?� �
Erestor, whose face
had lit at the sight of an old and dear friend, suddenly became conscious
of his appearance. Besides the damage to his clothing, a glance down
at the normally glossy black curls he was attempting to braid revealed
ash and badly singed ends. He held up a lock and pulled a rueful face.
�Nothing serious, it�ll wash. A trim wouldn�t hurt either.��
He pushed the offending hair back behind his ears, giving up attempts
to tidy it.� �You say he seemed not to know you? What do you
mean?��
Gildor shook his head,
his green eyes on the still-smouldering building. �He seemed to be
running away from something or someone� And he sounded confused, incoherent.��
Elladan touched Erestor's
arm lightly but insistently. �Can I speak to you � privately?�
he asked urgently, his voice low. �
Erestor's left eyebrow
twitched. He suspected he knew what was coming. In Elrond�s absence
Elladan might nominally be lord of Imladris, but there was no confusion
as to who was in charge should anything go seriously wrong. Then it
became wholly and completely the seneschal�s responsibility.�
�Nice of you to visit,�
Glorfindel was saying to Gildor, his voice dry and expressionless. �Care
to get your hands dirty? There is actual work to be done here.� �
Erestor, moving to
one side with Elladan, hoped Glorfindel was simply making an effort
to distract the Wanderer. For reasons that eluded him, the two Elves
shared a mutual antipathy and missed few opportunities to bait one another.
Erestor assumed they were simply too dissimilar to get along.�
�Well?� he asked
the young Half-elf bluntly.�
Elladan, his eyes anywhere
but on Erestor's face, said, �We thought it would be a nice surprise
if we could greet my parents when they returned with a little� style.
Arwen wanted fireworks� We thought it would be impossible, but she
said there was a supply in one of the huts down the valley and we thought�.
Well, I brought them up to the House this morning, Rohir was meant to
store them somewhere safe���
�That seems to have
gone a little awry,� Erestor said, nodding with a calm he was far
from feeling. �Well, at least we know he�s not trapped somewhere
in the House. It�s probable he was stunned by the blast. You would
know if there was something seriously the matter, wouldn�t you?��
The Half-elf nodded
slowly. He and Elrohir had a connection of sorts, a sense of one another�s
wellness that crossed the miles. Most people dismissed it, but his father
took the link seriously, as did Erestor who had seen stranger things
during his time with the Company of the Bear. Now Elladan said carefully,
�I know he�s conscious, otherwise I would have been in there moving
rubble myself. But� something is not� right�?��
Erestor took a slow,
deep breath, held it and then exhaled. Elrond�s life had been one,
long catalogue of almost unimaginable loss, and he could not even begin
to imagine having to tell him that harm had befallen one of his children. �
�Elrohir�s alive,
that�s the main thing,� he said evenly. �The only way to find
out why he ran from Gildor, whom you have both known all your lives,
is to find him.� He glanced at the sky as he spoke. The clouds that
had overhung the valley all day had darkened and thickened. Rain threatened
before sunset. �We need to do so before the weather turns,� he added. �
Elladan nodded. �I
just need a few minutes to change���
�No,� Erestor told
him firmly. �You have to stay here, Dan. Your father would not have
left while people were hurt and the fire still smouldered. Neither can
you.��
Glorfindel appeared
to have heard at least part of the conversation. He now offered his
opinion, which carried the added weight of his rank. �If there was
no one else to look for your brother it would be understandable, but
as it is� I can go with Erestor. You need to remain here.��
The reborn Elf had
shared an unusual Beltane celebration with Elrohir the previous year.
While this had not led to the more intimate relationship that the young
Half-elf might secretly have liked, friendship had grown between them
and Glorfindel was noticeably protective towards Elrond�s younger
and more accident-prone son. That he should choose to be involved in
the search was hardly unexpected. What happened next, was.�
Gildor, who had been
listening to the exchange with a thoughtful look, quirked an eyebrow
in the direction of the blonde warrior. �I�m afraid I have to concur
with that, son of my friend,� he told Elladan. �As we seldom agree,
that must mean he�s right. And I will go along as well,� he added,
smiling blandly at Glorfindel. �After all, it was I who saw him last.��
On cue, Erestor�s
head started to throb.� ���
�
Part
Two�
Elrohir kept low, moving
steadily away from the place where he had seen the creature. The noise
he made crashing through the bushes was beginning to frighten him. If
he could hear them, so could anyone � or anything � following
him. He had no idea if a Balrog would take the time to track one small
Elf, but he could take no chances.�
The sound of running
water close at hand made him stop in his tracks.� In his mind he
could hear his Adar�s voice saying very sternly, �You will not go
down to the river alone again. The water can be treacherous.��
Whimpering softly, he paused, trying to think. Not that way, not to the water-sound then. Adar would be cross. Up? The ground sloped up and away from the river. He knew there were rocks aplenty to hide amongst up there because he and Dan often played Cave Troll along the cliff. And he would have warning; he would hear the Balrog�s approach, the roar of its flame, the cracking of its whip�
His head hurt, and
he was frightened and desperately confused. He thought that if he could
just lie down somewhere safe for a while, somewhere dark and quiet,
his head would clear and he would know what to do next. �
=====�
�Try down that way.��
�There is nothing
down there except scrub and rocks. We need to follow the river.��
�Why would he have
gone all the way down to the river if you saw him heading up towards
the cliff? Be logical, Inglorion.� In a lower voice, Glorfindel added,
�If that is even possible.��
Erestor gritted his
teeth and resisted the impulse to shout at both of them to go back to
the House and leave him to search in peace.� The bickering had
started even before they set out and had not stopped since. Gildor wanted
to go left, Glorfindel insisted on right.� Gildor thought it would
be best to search amongst the trees, Glorfindel felt the rocky incline
leading up to the cliff made a more sensible starting point.�
�Could we just try
and think instead of� reacting?� Erestor asked in a tired voice.
He had not even stopped to change, and he was beginning to wonder why.
A change of clothing, a hot bath, hair washed, a good meal � that
might have given the two of them time to at least agree on a general
area for their search.�
Glorfindel, whose Quenya
accent always became more pronounced when he was annoyed, said, �There
would be no reason for him to suddenly double back down to the river,
Erestor. He was heading towards the cliff � we should be higher up,
looking amongst the rocks.��
�As I�ve already
explained, he seemed confused, almost childlike,� Gildor snapped.
He directed his next words to Erestor, moving to stand close beside
him and look down into his eyes, creating an intimate circle of two.
�It would be a simple matter for him to get turned around, Sparrow.
Moving towards water is a natural instinct to all creatures � and
tracking through the wood is something at which both you and I excel.
They had no call for this skill in Gondolin, of course.� �
He added this last
with just a hint of condescension. Glorfindel bristled.�
Council meetings in
Lindon had given Erestor long and often painful experience in seeking
out the middle ground between conflicting opinions, loudly held. Knowing
the first step was to appear as unbiased as possible, he moved away
from Gildor to avoid any hint of it being the two of them against Glorfindel.
A glance at the sky warned that they were running out of time. The clouds
had become uniformly black and ominous.�
�He was on this path
when you saw him, Gildor. I think we should keep to it a while longer
at least,� he concurred. �Hopefully we can find some hint before
we lose the light altogether. Failing which, we have to assume Elrohir
is hurt and not reasoning as he should, in which case his actions will
be instinctive. I believe the twins used to play up amongst the rocks
when they were small, while I clearly recall Elrond telling me the river
bank was forbidden to them unsupervised. Therefore, if we find nothing
soon, the logical direction is up.��
Glorfindel nodded.
Gildor frowned. Erestor sighed and set off again, following the main
path which led deeper into the valley, towards the open land where the
community�s small flock of sheep grazed.�
=====�
Wet, he was so wet.
Nana would be angry. �
It had been raining
for some time before Elrohir noticed, so intent was he upon finding
a good hiding place from the enemy that hunted him. Several times he
heard sounds or movement that could have been made by small animals,
or could have been the stealthy tread of � something larger, darker.
When that happened, he hid until he was certain he was once more alone.�
The rain kept falling
and he was bitterly cold. Tired and afraid, he forced his way through
thick bushes, unaware of the nearby trail that would have taken him
up onto the cliff path.� His body ached, although he no longer
remembered how he had been hurt. He wanted to go home. He stopped, near
to tears. Where was home? Nana would be there, and Adar. Adar would
know what to do��
The air was split by
an unearthly clap of sound and a brilliant flash dazzled his eyes, momentarily
turning the world white. Elrohir made a small, terrified sound
in his throat and backed away. It was here. It had found him. It was
announcing itself. He needed to hide, had to find somewhere to hide��
A second thunderous
crash exploded around him, coupled with an eye-stinging bolt of lightning,
and he turned to run. The tree root seemed almost deliberately to insert
itself into his path and he tripped, falling headlong. Stones slid from
under him and next moment he was tumbling down the shallow slope, gravel,
grass and fallen leaves following him in a small, damp cloud. �
He came to a bumpy
halt at last, up against one of a row of berry bushes and lay still,
consciousness sliding away from him like water from a leaking pail.
The last thing he knew before blackness descended was a terrifying snuffling
close beside his head.�
=====�
�It�s no use, Sparrow.
No chance of finding any sort of trail in this weather. We should go
back, wait till it eases off.��
Erestor had thought
the day could get no worse, but the sudden downpour had proved him wrong.
The rain, which had begun slowly, was now crashing down and Gildor needed
almost to shout to make himself heard. Within the sounds of rain and
wind, he thought he heard a low, warning rumble. Flickers of light across
the sky confirmed his suspicion. Thunder. �
�There is
no trail.� His raised voice contained a discernable edge. �We were
trying to find one, remember?��
�Superior tracking
skills, and all that.� Glorfindel�s comment was made in an undertone,
but the eddying wind chose that moment to change, carrying his words
clearly. Erestor turned to glare at him, but the warrior was the picture
of innocence, staring through the rain towards the natural sheep pen
formed by berry bushes planted closely together to form a hedge. �
�We were obviously
not looking in the right direction,� the seneschal said flatly, his
clipped tone a warning. �Otherwise either Gildor or I would
have seen something. And the trees have no word for us � they would
whisper of the passing of a stranger, but not a child born and raised
in their valley.��
Gildor placed a hand
lightly on his arm. �Perhaps we need to look higher up as you suggested?
Are there any decent sized caves in the hillside?��
A jagged bolt of lightning
forked across the sky and the grumbling thunder rose to a sudden, ear-splitting
crack, drowning out Erestor's reply. He started, which encouraged Gildor
to slide the hand up to his shoulder in yet another non-verbal reminder
of how long and how well they had known one another. Erestor suspected
he did it to annoy Glorfindel, although he was unclear as to why it
should. �
This time, however,
the reborn Elf�s interest was elsewhere. Following his gaze, Erestor
could make out sheep milling through the gap in the hedge into their
pen. He knew there was a stone shelter at the far end. He also knew
the sheep were notoriously too stupid to make use of it unless driven
there.�
�Idiot animals,�
he muttered.�
He was rewarded with
a broad smile and laughing blue eyes. �Not the brightest, no. But
I like the little black and white ones. They seem to have more energy
than the plain ones.� Glorfindel had never seen sheep before coming
to Imladris and found them, like much else in the valley, enthralling.�
�They are wise in
their own ways,� Gildor said smoothly, moving next to Erestor again
so that they were standing with shoulders touching. �Intelligence
would be a bonus, although it should be enough that they give us wool
to weave into blankets and clothing.��
�Right,� Glorfindel
muttered. Gildor was fond of offering such pearls of wisdom. Erestor
seemed to find them fascinatingly clever and tended to look up at the
Wanderer with wide brown eyes. For reasons he usually preferred not
to analyse, this annoyed the Elf from Gondolin immensely.�
Lightning turned the
sky white, peals of thunder made the air vibrate. Glorfindel raised
a hand to shield his eyes as the wind turned and gusted rain into his
face. �Something fell down the slope above the sheep,� he exclaimed
to Erestor. �Something large. Should we go and make sure they�re
all right?��
Erestor looked at him
blankly. They were sheep��
�They seem � upset
by something,� Gildor conceded, his head tilted to one side to catch
the faint bleating through the overlay of driving rain.�
Water trickling down
his face and neck, his hair hanging around him like a sodden cloak,
Erestor looked from one to the other of his companions in disbelief.
�Elrohir is out there somewhere in � this � and you two
want to go and check up on a flock of sheep?��
�We should also get
out from under these trees while there�s lightning,� Glorfindel
tried to sound reasonable despite having to raise his voice. �Not
the safest place.��
�Elves don�t get
struck by lightning,� the seneschal snapped with an assurance based
upon nothing more than his own annoyance.�
�Trees do,� Gildor
said with the equanimity that was starting to work badly on Glorfindel�s
nerves. �Sometimes small animals. Is there any shelter down there?
I seem to remember a hut of some kind? Be reasonable, Sparrow, we can�t
see a thing in this rain.��
�Stone structure,�
Erestor replied shortly. If they were both determined, there was no
point in arguing. He started down the trail towards the field. �We
can wait out the worst of the storm there. But as soon as the lightning
stops, we continue the search.��
=====�
�
Erestor had forgotten
what it was like to be caught outdoors in a storm of such magnitude,
the vulnerability of being exposed while the thunder crashed and the
landscape lit with blue-white light.� Protected as it was by the
power of one of the Three, extreme weather was a rarity in the Elven
stronghold of Imladris. Under normal circumstances, Vilya reached out
and spoke to the excesses of nature. Right now, however, rain came down
in a solid sheet and the wind howled. �
�This,' the seneschal
reminded himself as he leaned into the wind, head bowed, 'is what happens
when Elrond goes away and Vilya lies inactive.'�
Currently the Ring
of Air was tucked away in a drawer in Erestor's bedroom. This was not
the first time it had been left in his care; it became his responsibility
every time Elrond was absent from Imladris because, meshed into the
fabric of the land, the Ring never left the valley. In times past it
had also hung on a chain round his neck every time Gil-galad went into
battle, including the final assault against Sauron. As a master strategist
in charge of signals, the King had reasoned � rightly as it turned
out � that Erestor would be outside of the main fighting and less
likely to get killed. �
He had a sudden, stinging
memory of the night of mind-chilling grief that had marked the end of
the Second Age, of pulling the chain over his head and all but flinging
Vilya at Elrond��
Glorfindel�s hand
on his arm was just in time to keep him from walking straight into a
tree. �Careful� Are you all right?� �
The light, slightly
husky voice was unexpectedly close to his ear, dispelling past memories.
He returned to the here and now, to Imladris and concern for its lord�s
youngest son. �
�Rain in my eyes,�
he replied briefly, dashing a hand across them. �Thank you.��
And yes, after so long
that was the only explanation he would admit to. He had no patience
with Elves who failed to know when it was time to put off mourning and
move on with life. He could feel Glorfindel watching him, and turned
hastily away. The hedge was just ahead, the rain so heavy he could barely
see Gildor making his way around to the opening used by the sheep.�
�Through here.�
Glorfindel had to shout to make himself heard above the wind and rain.
A large hand closed on Erestor's arm, guiding him to a gap in the bushes.
They pushed their way between branches, coming out on the edge of a
small clearing, at one end of which stood the promised shelter. The
sheep, as expected by Erestor at least, were nowhere near it, but were
instead huddled off to one side. �
Gildor, entering the
clearing at the same moment but from the opposite end, shouted for their
attention and hurried towards the animals. For a bemused moment, Erestor
thought he wanted help in chasing them under shelter, but then Glorfindel
yelled something, the words whipped away by the wind, and ran to join
him. Erestor followed, shoving confused sheep out of the way, and was
the last to reach the figure huddled on the ground beside the hedge. �
�Elrohir?� he gasped,
pushing past Glorfindel. Almost fearfully he rested a hand on the young
Half-elf�s chest to make certain he was breathing.�
�We have to get him
under cover!� Despite the fact that their heads were almost touching,
Gildor had to shout to be heard. �Over there�� �
�We need to check
him for injuries first,� Erestor shouted back, starting to feel along
Elrohir�s ribs. �Not move him until we�re sure���
�You can�t see
a damn thing in this,� Glorfindel interrupted. �He�s likely to
drown before you�re finished.�� A bolt of lightning streaked
across the sky, outlining land and trees in blue radiance. Thunder roared.
With a warrior�s pragmatism, Glorfindel reached down and lifted Elrohir
almost effortlessly into his arms. �Come on. Let�s go. Now!��
=====�
�and the creature
found him and pounced!� With a sound beyond description, it enfolded
him, overpowered him. Elrohir struggled frantically to escape, striking
out at something that felt as solid and immobile as a brick wall. Somewhere
behind the sounds he was making, he heard a grunt that was not his own.
Somewhere beneath the sound of the Balrog was a voice, words...�
There was a brief period
of motion, then whatever carried him laid him down on the ground. He
rolled clear and at once began crawling desperately away. He kept his
eyes closed. He could not open them -he was too afraid of what he might
see.� �
=====�
Elrohir regained consciousness
almost as soon as Glorfindel picked him up. He seemed not to recognise
the warrior, but began struggling and lashing out wildly. The storm
was almost on top of them, conversation rendered all but impossible
by roll after ear-splitting roll of thunder.� There was no point
in further discussion - they ran for cover.�
The rough-built shelter
consisted of three and a half stone walls with a thatched roof and a
floor of beaten earth; it was basic but at least it kept the rain off.
A few of the more sensible sheep had found their way in and occupied
one corner. They were Glorfindel�s favourites, the little ones with
the randomly scattered black patches. Erestor wondered vaguely if they
were really smarter than the others, or just more susceptible to the
cold.�
The warrior carried
Elrohir to the driest corner and laid him on the ground with as much
care as he could muster. The Half-elf immediately rolled onto hands
and knees and began to crawl back towards the entrance, his hair falling
down over his face, his body shaking.�
Seriously worried now,
Erestor hastily knelt and placed his hands firmly on Elrohir�s shoulders,
wincing to feel him jump and try to pull away. �Rohir,� he said
firmly and clearly. �It�s me, Erestor. Everything is all right;
no one is going to hurt you. Look, it�s me, open your eyes���
��must run,�
Elrohir whispered. �Must get away. It will find you too. It is here���
�Child, there is
nothing and no one here except myself, Gildor and Glorfindel.� And
a few sheep, he thought, forcing down a bubble of inappropriate mirth.�
�Glorfindel?� Elrohir
asked in a small, hopeful voice.� He blinked, raising his head
to try and focus on Erestor's face. �He can stop it� He will know
how to fight it.��
�What is hunting
you, son of my friend?� Gildor asked gently. He crouched with cat-like
grace on the ground next to Elrohir but was careful not to touch him.
Yet another crash of thunder combined with a searing bolt of lightning
punctuated his words. Elrohir whimpered and cringed.�
�It�s there��
he gasped. �The Balrog� It�s here!��
�..Balrog�?�
Glorfindel blinked and resisted an impulse to look around.�
Erestor reached forward
and pulled Elrohir into his arms. The Half-elf was soaked to the skin
and shivering. Erestor held him close, stroking his hair back as he
said in a voice that carried clearly over the storm, �Elrohir, child,
there is no Balrog here. There is nothing, only us and the storm. There
is a storm, Rohir, thunder and lightning, nothing more. You are
safe, we will keep you safe.��
��Nana. Want Nana���
The three Elves exchanged
startled glances. Gildor shook his head firmly at Glorfindel who had
opened his mouth to speak. �
�Sshh, it will be
all right,� Erestor said gently. There was a large swelling on the
side of Elrohir�s head, which he explored quickly though carefully.
The dark head tried to pull away from his touch, suggesting the area
must be as painful as it appeared. �
Deeply concerned, Glorfindel
was watching over Erestor�s shoulder. Now he asked, �He struck his
head? Would that have caused this confusion? He sounds like a small
child...��
�I am no healer,�
Erestor replied, �But it seems possible. And they tell the children
stories of Balrogs that sound like a great storm, fire and thunder���
�Sounds about right,�
the former Balrog Slayer muttered.�
�Sorry. Didn�t
mean to trivialize it���
�Not a problem. It
was rather like being in the middle of a storm as far as I remember�
not that I remember much. Fortunately.��
Erestor had Elrohir�s
head pressed against his shoulder now and was unconsciously rocking
him. He looked behind him through a tangle of wet hair at Glorfindel.
�You don�t remember? I never realised that.��
�Not too much, no.
A lot of the time it�s more like sharing some one else�s memories���
�Excuse me��
Gildor had to speak twice, his voice raised on the second attempt. �
The rain battered down,
the sheep shuffled in their corner. More had wandered in, following
the Elves. Two heads, one dark, the other a shade of dull gold, turned
to him.�
Gildor gestured before
him. �Fire,� he aid shortly. �When you�re finished you might
want to bring him over here.��
Erestor blinked at
his tone. Glorfindel shrugged and moved in front of him. �If you help
me, I can probably lift him without disturbing him too much. Look, his
eyes are closed.��
Between them they carried
Elrohir over to the small fire Gildor had built up from twigs and leaves.
And sheep dung Erestor noted, wrinkling his nose.� He sat close
to the small flames, still holding Elrohir.� �I have no idea
how you do this,� he told Gildor, his face alight with admiration.
�You�re amazing. How long can you keep it burning for? He�s ice
cold.��
Green eyes sparkled
in the firelight. �Long enough,� Gildor assured him. �We just
need to keep feeding it with what we can find around here � yes Glorfindel,
good. Collect whatever you can find to use for fuel.��
Glorfindel, who responded
badly to patronizing tones, looked ice in the Wanderer�s direction,
but continued collecting dried debris. One corner even yielded a couple
of neatly cut branches, possibly intended for firewood. One of the sheep
went over to see if he had found anything for it to eat and he patted
its head, amused. The wool was wet and a little coarse but was far thicker
than he had realised. He smiled, rubbing its ears as one would a dog. �
Gildor, watching, arched
an eyebrow but made no comment. Instead he said softly to Erestor, �He
seems at peace with you, Sparrow.� I think he sleeps.��
�He must have been
hurt when the fire started. See, here on his head? This lump?� Erestor
moved Elrohir�s hair back and, taking Gildor�s hand, placed it on
the swelling. �I think he might be concussed � he seems to think
he�s still a child. When he heard the thunder, he must have imagined
it was � well, a Balrog. I wish his father was home to care for him,
but Onnenad is competent. We need to get him back.��
�We have to wait
till the rain lifts,� Glorfindel said, returning to the fire and adding
one of the cuts of wood that he had found. �And if he�s concussed,
aren�t we meant to keep him awake, Erestor?��
Erestor shook his head
slowly, looking a query to Gildor who was still examining Elrohir�s
head. �I � think not? He must have been wandering around like that
for hours. I would suppose he needs rest. I don�t know for certain...
So - if we can keep him warm here, do you think we should wait until
the storm dies down?��
�That would probably
be best,� Gildor agreed. �As for concussion, as I understand it
we need to watch his breathing and wake him every few hours to make
certain he can be woken.��
Gildor the All-Knowing,
Glorfindel thought tartly. Aloud he said, �Some one needs to go back
and tell Elladan before he�s tempted to send out search parties.��
Erestor nodded. �True.
He must be sick with worry about his brother.� He looked down at Elrohir,
then up at his two companions. �Well, I can hardly go. It will have
to be one of you � the other can keep me company and help feed the
fire.��
Blue eyes met emerald
green across the small fire. Over the sounds of pouring rain and sullen
sheep, silence reigned.� �
Finally Gildor said
mildly, almost casually, �As a member of Elrond�s household you
probably feel it is your responsibility to go, but will you be able
to find your way back unaided? Darkness is falling; we are miles down
the valley�?��
Glorfindel seemed to
think about this for a moment, then he quirked an eyebrow and smiled
pleasantly. �Well, when you put it like that, I have to agree you
are probably better suited to the task.��
Gildor, who had plainly
expected demurral and argument to which he would have acquiesced with
a show of reluctance, stared disbelievingly.�
Glorfindel�s smile
broadened. �I am seldom stung into action by appeals to my pride,�
he said easily. �If I were, I would probably have sworn that damned
Oath and now where would I be? No, I am sure it is best that you go
for help. I will stay and do - whatever Erestor finds for me to do.��
�
Part
Three�
The thunder had faded
to a distant rumble with occasional shimmers of light across the sky
to the east, but the wind had increased and the rain was relentless.
Glorfindel stood in the entrance watching tree boughs slash air, their
shapes stark against the night dark sky. What could be seen of the landscape
was uniformly wet, cold and miserable.�
Behind him the fire
burnt bright and steady, bathing everything in a golden glow. Elrohir
still slept, his head in Erestor�s lap. More sheep had found their
way inside and their body heat helped draw the ice from the air.�
Central to this unlikely scene was Erestor, sitting straight and still,
his hair clinging wetly about his shoulders. He was gazing into the
flames, apparently lost in thought.�
Glorfindel came back
to crouch beside the fire, holding his hands out to it for warmth.�
�Anything else I can do? Fire�s built up; sheep seem to be keeping
their distance�� He gestured towards Elrohir. �He�s still asleep?� �
�Oh, yes� yes he
is.� Erestor seemed to come back from a far place, starting and looking
around vaguely when Glorfindel spoke to him. �I hope he stays like
that till help comes. It shouldn�t take Gildor long to get back to
the House. In fact he should already be there.� He has a wonderful
sense of direction.��
�Hmph.��
The snort received
no response. After a minute the warrior�s eyes returned to Elrohir.
�Is he still shivering?��
�A bit. He�s chilled
through - his clothes were drenched.��
�He�s not the only
one who got soaked,� Glorfindel pointed out. �Nothing I can do about
wet clothing, but I can dry your hair off a little if you�d like?��
Erestor put a hand
to his head and grimaced. �It feels like I dipped it in a bucket of
water,� he acknowledged. �And it�s ice cold.��
Glorfindel went to
retrieve his cloak which he had left hanging from a nail in the roof
beam above the entrance. �You need to get up and walk around a little.
It�ll warm you up.� Elrohir will be all right next to the fire.
We�re here to watch him.���
�I don�t like the
idea of him lying with his head on the ground,� the seneschal admitted
softly. �I know he probably won�t wake to notice it, but it feels�
wrong.��
The reborn Elf thought
a moment, then patted at his tunic, considering. �This isn�t too
wet. If I take it off and fold it into a pillow of sorts, would that
be all right?�
Erestor shot him a
startled look. �You can�t take your tunic off. You�ll freeze.� �
Glorfindel grinned
briefly, but the humour failed to touch his eyes. �I�m wearing an
undershirt. Besides, this is not cold, Erestor. I have experienced �cold�,
as has Gildor. This is merely unpleasant.��
The seneschal was momentarily
puzzled, then his face cleared. �You both crossed the Ice,� he remembered.
�Yes, I suppose this can�t compare.��
�Not really, no.�
Glorfindel tugged damp cloth up and over his head, then rolled the tunic
deftly and placed it a short distance from Erestor. �Right, let�s
move him. Just slide him off your lap� that�s right���
Elrohir murmured softly
as they eased him to lie with his head cushioned by the improvised pillow
but he failed to wake. His breathing seemed normal; he appeared exhausted,
not unconscious. The lump on his head was more pronounced but, as best
Erestor could tell, there was no other damage. However, neither he nor
Glorfindel had the healer�s gift for sensing injury by touch, so a
proper examination would have to wait till later.�
Finally free to move,
Erestor rose stiffly, stretching and yawning expansively.�
�It�s been a long
day?� Glorfindel agreed sympathetically. �
�Long enough. First
the fire and now this.� My legs feel almost numb from kneeling
like that.��
�Do you have any
idea what happened back at the House?� Glorfindel moved up behind
him as he spoke, the cloak slung over his arm. He hooked Erestor�s
hair back into a single wet, black fall and squeezed gently, trying
to remove excess water. �What did Elladan tell you? I only heard the
end.��
�They wanted to surprise
their parents when they arrived home. A joint effort - Arwen found the
fireworks, Elladan brought them back up to the House, and Elrohir was
charged with storing them safely.� He glanced up at Glorfindel
over his shoulder. �Something evidently went wrong.��
Amber-gold eyes shimmered
in the soft light. Glorfindel�s breath caught; they had never been
this close before. Fair, very clear skin with a dusting of freckles
across nose and cheekbones. Thick, dark lashes, a sweet, well-defined
mouth, that dimple... Hastily he turned Erestor back to face the fire
and wrapped the cloak loosely about the tangled curls. �
�Horribly wrong,
yes. He�s probably lucky to be alive,� he said, belatedly resuming
the conversation. �Right. Let�s see what I can do here.� Placing
his hands firmly on Erestor's head, he began to rub vigorously. �Skull
like a kitten,� he thought distractedly. �Fine boned, delicate.�
He would have to be careful not to be too rough�� �
�When you�re finished,
I�ll do the same for you,� Erestor said, interrupting his thoughts.
The words came unsteadily as his head jerked under the warrior�s ministrations.�
Glorfindel pulled himself
together and redoubled his efforts. �Thank you.� This shouldn�t
take too long.��
=====�� �
�Does it look as
bad as it feels?� Erestor asked ruefully.� Even without a mirror,
he could see his hair presented an unruly frazzle. Not for the first
time, he wished it was straight.� �
Glorfindel chuckled. �I like it. I wouldn�t mind having curls.�
Erestor considered
the idea and shook his head. �I can�t picture it. Yours is nice
and wavy, but actual curls � somehow I think not. ��
Currently the hair
for which Glorfindel was named hung to his hips in a darkened, straggling
mane.� Erestor took the cloak and stood, waiting, until Glorfindel
eventually followed his thoughts. �Would it be easier if I sat?�
he asked. �Not that you�re short or anything, but���
�� but you are
over-tall,� Erestor agreed in satisfied
tones. �Yes, that would be easier. I always thought the Elves of Gondolin
were small-built and slender � or so I heard as a child. Stories,
probably,� he added with a hasty glance up at his tall, broad-shouldered
companion.�
Grinning, the Elf from
Gondolin tried unsuccessfully to look offended before bending to check
on Elrohir, who lay curled on his side with his cheek resting on one
hand. His breathing was regular and he was snoring softly.� Apparently
satisfied, Glorfindel moved round the fire to sit with his back to the
entrance. �Many of us were tall,� he informed Erestor. �My friend
Ecthelion was half a head again taller than I. Though I suppose King
Turgon was � quite short.� All right if I sit here?� he added. �
The dark head nodded
briefly. �Yes, that�s fine. So a children�s tale then, short,
willowy Elves in Gondolin?� He came to kneel up behind Glorfindel
as he spoke and started carefully gathering the mass of golden hair
back over his shoulders. It twined round his fingers, clinging like
spiderweb.� �It�s not really all that wet,� he said judiciously.
�I�ll just give it a quick rub. There�s a lot of it but it�s
very fine � probably why it seems to dry faster than mine.��
He could hear his voice
going on and on� He knew he was making a fool of himself but seemed
unable to stop. Taking a breath, he set to rubbing. He wondered distantly
if the reborn Elf would also, like him, find the sensation somehow �
exciting. Almost arousing.� He had never been this close to Glorfindel
before, had never realised how big the warrior was, how � solid. Erestor
compressed his lips and tried to focus on the task at hand.� �
�You�ve known Gildor
a long time, haven�t you?� Glorfindel asked softly, breaking the
silence that had fallen between them.�
Erestor's hands slowed.
�Since Lindon,� he confirmed. �He used to visit there more often
than he does here. I got to know him well. Afterwards � after the
War, I mean � everyone I knew was either going back over the Sea or
coming here. The person I had imagined I would spend my life with -
died. I felt very lost.� Then Gildor invited me to travel with
his people for a time.� He paused, adding with a half laugh. �That
�time� turned into night on six hundred years.��
�And then you came
to Imladris?� �
Erestor nodded, then
realised Glorfindel couldn�t see him. �My company passed through
here several times a year. And I�ve known Elrond for ages � from
Balar days. Each time he�d ask if I was ready yet to settle down.
Finally I was.��
Glorfindel nodded.
�Mourning takes its own time. And so Gildor keeps visiting you now
you�ve living here? That�s � a good friend.��
Erestor began carefully
trying to separate the more obvious knots his attempts had created.
�Gildor visits Elrond as he always has, to report. We just � pass
the time when he happens to be here. That�s all.��
�If you say so,�
Glorfindel responded dryly. �He spends far more time with you than
he ever does with Elrond. He follows you around like a���
�What absolute nonsense,�
Erestor snapped. He felt his cheeks flaming and was glad the reborn
Elf had his back to him. �I have no idea where your dislike for him
comes from. You barely know him, but���
�Not dislike, exactly,
no,� Glorfindel contradicted him, unruffled. �And hardly the first
time we�ve met, either. I remember him from Tirion. He hasn�t changed
much.��
His tone suggested
that this was not necessarily a good thing.�
�You knew one another
in Tirion?� Erestor asked in amazement. �Neither of you has ever
said anything���
Glorfindel was watching
two large and elderly-looking sheep jostle one another for a place against
the wall. �We weren�t well acquainted,� he said after a moment
by way of explanation. �We moved in different circles.� �
�And yet you don�t
like him?� Erestor frowned. �Isn�t that a little � biased?��
�Let�s just say
I knew him by reputation. And I knew at least one young girl who was
a victim of his penchant for casual flirtations.��
�That,� Erestor
pointed out severely, �Was thousands of years ago. People change���
�Not that I�ve
noticed. What else was he doing with you but flirting?��
�Glorfindel that
is the most ridiculous thing I�ve ever heard!� Erestor said crossly,
laying aside the cloak. �He does no such thing. We�re old friends,
he always talks to me like that. Your imagination is a wondrous thing���
�You protest too
much,� Glorfindel retorted coolly over his shoulder. Turning, his
eyes serious, he studied the dark-haired Elf. Then, almost casually,
he slung an arm around the seneschal�s waist and pulled him into his
lap. Placing a firm hand under Erestor's chin, he tipped his face upwards
and kissed him.�
It was neither a timid
nor a tentative sort of kiss. There was a brush of lips, then the warrior
drew back, his eyes on Erestor's mouth. As the seneschal drew breath
to speak, Glorfindel bent and claimed him, his tongue passing slickly
along the inner side of a full lower lip before delving deep within.
Arms tightening, he slid a hand behind the dark head, cupping it and
keeping it steady while his tongue tasted and savoured, sliding warmly
against Erestor's own, teasing, pressing, finally engaging.� �
Erestor placed a hand
against his chest and pushed � but not very hard. For a minute he
kept absolutely still, not believing what was happening, and then warmth
slowly crept over him, a sweet tingling sensation the like of which
he had not felt for the longest time. Slowly his hand moved seemingly
of its own volition; from chest to shoulder, from shoulder beneath damp
hair to the back of Glorfindel�s neck. Closing his eyes he returned
the kiss, slowly at first, and then with increasing fervour.�
The moment ended when
a restless sheep wandered over just as Glorfindel slid a warm hand under
Erestor's still-damp tunic. The first cautious touch coincided with
an exploratory nibble to the seneschal�s calf, causing him to jerk
away with a startled yelp. Glorfindel snatched his hand back as though
stung. Spotting the cause of the problem, he leapt to his feet, uttering
a curse Erestor made a mental note to ask him to repeat later. Slowly.�
Having fully intimidated
the renegade sheep into rejoining the flock huddled on the opposite
side of the shelter, Glorfindel returned and sank back down beside Erestor,
who was still chuckling at his fury.� He looked an invitation,
and the seneschal moved smiling back into his embrace, reclining across
his lap with his head against Glorfindel�s shoulder much as he had
been sitting earlier.� He reached up to play with a lock of golden
hair, watching the warrior silently, amber eyes solemn beneath dark
lashes.�
�You taste like summer,�
Glorfindel said quietly after a while, his voice no louder than the
crackle of the fire, the patter of the rain. �I have wanted to kiss
you for the longest time�� �
He traced a finger
across Erestor's cheekbone and up to follow the line of his eyebrow.
A touch to the tip of his nose evinced a small smile, but still no words.
Glorfindel finally shook his shoulder lightly. �Say something. Come,
you�re making me nervous.��
�For once in my life,
I think I�m too flabbergasted to know what to say,� Erestor admitted
on a gust of laughter. �Though I suppose we can hardly just sit here
in silence. Perhaps you need to kiss me again while I�m trying to
think of something to talk about?� The smile faded and his eyes searched
Glorfindel�s face, serious. �Kiss me again. Please?��
=====��� �
The fire was starting
to burn low. Erestor made careful work of positioning the last two pieces
of wood while Glorfindel checked on Elrohir, making sure he was breathing
evenly and that he was warm. The slide of muscle beneath the blonde
Elf�s thin cotton undershirt caught Erestor's eye, and he smiled �
spontaneously. Glorfindel chose that moment to look in his direction
and his lips curved in reply.�
�It�s just somehow
� right � isn�t it?� the warrior asked. �The setting? Small,
intimate, the fire holds back the dark, the light softens everything,
makes the banal beautiful. Even the sheep�� He grinned, straightening
up. �Even the sheep add ambiance.��
He returned to sit
behind Erestor, watching him nudge and adjust the wood, add twigs to
the flames. "You do that well," he remarked, running a finger
lightly down the seneschal�s back as he spoke.�
Erestor glanced over
his shoulder at him, smiled. "Years of practice."�
Finished, he brushed
his hands off and shuffled back to lean against Glorfindel. "I
can't light a fire the way Gildor does," he explained. "He
has the Gift, he can hold his hand over wood and warm it. But once it's
lit, I can keep it going well enough. You learn that in the Companies.
Fire is important; it holds back the creatures that walk in the dark."�
Glorfindel stroked
the unruly dark curls aside and pressed a soft kiss to Erestor's neck.
"I remember that from the road to Gondolin," he said. "To
begin with we lit fires every night and sat close around them. Then
when we reached the mountains we received the order that there were
to be no more fires, nothing to give away our position. The nights were...
very dark. We doubled the watch, although no one wanted to admit it
was because there were no fires. We crossed the Ice without any such
aids after all, we remembered times before there were either sun or
moon. Darkness should not have given us pause."�
Erestor rested his
head back against the reborn Elf's broad shoulder and listened to the
husky voice reminiscing close beside his ear. Outside the wind still
raged and the rain came in occasional drifts that sounded almost like
handfuls of small stones striking the ground. Inside there was a tiny,
self-contained world the like of which he had not shared for a very
long time. He turned his head and kissed Glorfindel, aiming for his
cheek and finding his jawline instead. He was hugged in return.�
"I was born in
Nargothrond," he said, unsure if he had ever mentioned this before.
"All of that was before my time, another world, but I heard of
it from my family.� My parents were amongst those who followed
Fingolfin across to Middle-earth."�
Glorfindel nodded.
"Long way from Nargothrond to being a member of one of the wandering
companies," he ventured, approaching the main question in his mind
from a tangent.�
Erestor laughed briefly
and nodded. "Perhaps, yes. I spent time with one of the early companies
after - after Nargothrond fell. Those few of us who survived did the
best we could. I was lucky, they took me in for a while, long enough
for me to travel with them to the coast to join Cirdan's people. From
there to Balar, from Balar to Lindon."�
"And from Lindon
back into the wild."�
Erestor nodded and
settled his head against Glorfindel's, their cheeks touching. One of
the sheep wandered too close to the fire and they made shooing noises
before turning to exchange smiles. �
"And from that
to Imladris," the seneschal finished more cheerfully. "A checkered
life, but most of us born in the First Age can claim the same. Some
more than others," he added after a moment's thought.�
The circuitous route
worked less well than the Elf from Gondolin had hoped. He decided on
the direct approach. "You and Gildor...?"�
Erestor pulled away
from him and turned to sit so that they faced one another. "You
keep implying something there," he said, frowning. "In fact
there is nothing to imply. Gildor gave me a place to heal and his friendship.
Nothing more. I know he has a reputation for casual involvements, but
I assure you I was not one such."�
Glorfindel shook his
head, his hands closing lightly over the seneschal's upper arms. "I
never meant to imply that," he said quietly, his eyes meeting Erestor's
with sincerity. "I just picked up an - atmosphere - between you
and wanted to make sure I wasn't intruding on something with... well...
this."�
"This?" Erestor
quirked an eyebrow, managing to keep a serious expression on his face.
"And 'this' would be...?"�
Silence between them,
punctuated by a shoal of rain.�
"I don't know,"
Glorfindel finally admitted. "A beginning of some kind? For us
both?"�
Erestor looked down,
his stillness a tangible thing. When he looked up his face was grave
and vulnerable in the half light. "There has to be a new thing
eventually, doesn't there?" he asked uncertainly. "Eventually.
Not an end to memories or anything, just... something new?"�
Somewhere not far away,
horses could be heard and sounds that might belong to a cart.�
Gildor�s impeccable timing, Glorfindel thought.� Ignoring them,
he drew Erestor against him and held him gently. "Something new,"
he agreed, a hand to the seneschal�s cheek. �Not an end, just...
different memories to add to the ones we bring with us from our past?
Nothing done in a rush, either. Just an agreement to see where the road
will lead us. Will that answer for you?"�
Erestor had plainly
heard the horses, too. His eyes flickered to the entrance, then returned
to study Glorfindel�s face. Finally he nodded. "That answers,
yes." A smile tugged at his lips. "No commitment -� what
happens, happen. I like that. Do you think we have time to seal it with
a kiss before they arrive?"�
Something new, somewhere
beyond loss and sorrow. A place of hope and future dreams. Taking Erestor's
face between his hands, Glorfindel smiled down into his eyes. "Sounds
like an excellent idea to me.���
The End
Caedion - son of the
land
N�ngabel - leaping
waters
Cyllon - bearer
Berianir - protecting
Onnenad - born again