One Step Closer
Beta: Silvara
2: whirlwind
Erestor watched Elrond's eyes return to their stormy grey, showing him that the mental conversation the Elf-lord had been engaging in was over. His friend turned a sad smile to the Councilor. "Thranduil will arrive within the week. Please ready his room."
Erestor looked at his friend with an odd expression. Ready a room for his Lord's lover? That made little sense to Erestor. "Meldir, Thranduil has not used 'his room' in centuries beyond counting. He shares your suite."
Leaving the balcony, Elrond sighed. "Not this time."
Erestor then realized what must have just happened. The Noldo was old enough to know what this meant. The members of the Company had been decided, and his long-time friend was going to send his lover's son. His heart ached for what Elrond was about to go through. But, since his counsel had not been requested, he was not about to offer it. He simply nodded. "I will go have the room aired out now and locate his favorite linens."
The Councilor did not bother to summon servants to prepare the King's room; he was perfectly capable of taking care of it himself. In truth, there was really nothing to do but make up the bed. Erestor had the room aired out once a week, and Thranduil's preferred bedclothes were folded at the foot of the large four-poster bed. No sense in making things difficult, he reasoned.
Erestor was unfolding the sheet when he was enveloped from behind by two strong and very welcome arms. "I thought I heard you in here," Glorfindel purred in his ear.
"I was being quiet," Erestor replied, settling back against his lover's chest.
Glorfindel smirked. "I know. The silent sound of efficiency was deafening."
Erestor hit Glorfindel playfully on the arm. "Make yourself useful. Help me make the bed."
The Seneschal kissed Erestor on the neck, making the Noldo shiver, before releasing him and walking to the other side of the bed and taking the other corner of the sheet. They worked in silence for a few moments, then Glorfindel looked around, seeming to truly see the room for the first time.
"Don't we usually reserve this room for Thranduil?"
"Yes," Erestor replied simply.
"We're not putting anyone else in here, are we?"
"No."
"And Thranduil isn't going to be staying with Elrond?"
"No."
"What happened?"
Erestor hesitated, briefly, then decided to be honest. "Legolas."
The Elda's eyes widened. "He's sending Legolas on this insanity?!"
"That's how it appears."
"Son of an Orc," Glorfindel swore. "I'll go talk to him."
"I don't think it will do any good, meleth. Just help me finish this."
"Don't tell me what to do!" Glorfindel screamed in a sudden fit of anger. "Damn you, don't you see what he's doing?!"
Erestor actually backed away a step, suddenly afraid of his love, despite the bed that separated them. The motion caused Glorfindel to rethink himself. The Seneschal clenched his eyes shut for a moment and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little on edge."
"I understand. The One Ring -- here in Imladris. It's enough to make anyone jumpy. Especially you."
"I... think I'll just go lie down," Glorfindel mumbled with a fair amount of shame and embarrassment flooding his voice. He left the room as silently as he arrived, leaving a stunned Erestor to finish up Thranduil's bed.
The week had passed with relative peace, with Glorfindel avoiding Elrond as much as he could.
The Seneschal rode at the head of the small guard doing the morning rounds checking the Imladris border. Once they had done the sweep and began the ride back to the house, Glorfindel let his mind wander over the past decade.
He felt out of place, he felt as if something had shifted in him and it frightened him. He had a rage he never thought he could have. The Elda would find himself seething, wishing to strike someone, saying things he would never had said in his previous years. Glorfindel would find himself hurting those he loved the most.
Those like Erestor. The dark-eyed love was the center of most of Glorfindel's outbursts. He had yet to strike or truly harm his lover, but he had come too close for the blond Elf's comfort. He was afraid he would seriously harm someone. And from his previous tantrums, it looked like the most likely Elf that would be forced to endure that final madness would be Erestor.
They had been together for several centuries, and Glorfindel had originally attributed his short temper to the monogamy. He had never held such an exclusive relationship before. Erestor had even mentioned officially bonding to one another, but Glorfindel refused -- not while he felt so out of control. He wanted Erestor to always have a way out, a way away from him and his insanity.
That was what it felt like: a slow descent into dementia. For the most part, he was balanced and in control. But, there were other times when he would lost all grip on himself and he would irrationally lash out. He would suddenly feel as if he were drowning in jealousy or in paranoia, the two main emotions that triggered the violence in him when it came to Erestor.
Glorfindel's attentions were brought from his internal struggle by the eldest Peredhel twin, who was trying to get him to converse.
"Thranduil will arrive tonight?" The question was innocent enough.
Just being reminded of the Mirkwood Elf brought home the betrayal he felt by Elrond in the Lord choosing his lover's son. That storm that had been dormant in him the past week awoke with a new fury. The only being close to him at that moment, though, was the Half-Elf he had always seen as the son he could never have. With a phenomenal effort, Glorfindel reined in his irrational anger and was able to respond with a clipped, "So we were told."
"Is there something on your mind?"
Through clenched teeth: "No. Nothing."
Blessedly, Elladan realized that Glorfindel was in a less-than- pleasant mood and wished not to be disturbed. He did not even speak to let the Balrog-slayer know that he'd heard Thranduil approaching; instead, he used the gesturing 'language' that he and Elrohir had developed while on the trail of roving packs of Orcs. Elrond had been so impressed by it that he'd ordered all border patrols to learn it, starting with his Seneschal.
Glorfindel gave the 'acknowledged' signal with a huff and moved to take up an escort position for Thranduil. He did not speak on the journey back to the stables, merely bolstered his reserves against the confrontation that he could feel approaching.
The conversation with Thranduil went better than he expected, which is to say, no one was killed in an insane fit of anger. After the Elven King met with Elrond, he had pretty much kept to himself these past two weeks, which suited Glorfindel just fine. The Seneschal tried to go about his daily business as smoothly as possible, but he was now constantly battling his desire to just jump up and strangle someone.
Erestor was his safe haven, though. Elrond's Councilor accepted him unconditionally, never judging him or pressing him for answers that Glorfindel just didn't have. No matter how trying a day he had, the Elda could always melt into Erestor's arms and let the dark-haired beauty take it all away.
More than once, the consolation gave way to gentle lovemaking, much as it had done this night. After talking Glorfindel down from his most recent bout of... whatever it was he was going through, the Noldo was running his fingers through the blond's hair when Glorfindel sat up and kissed him in thanks. The kiss had deepened, hands began to roam, and all thoughts of the outside world were forgotten.
At the end of a blur of fondling and kissing, Erestor sat on the bed naked, bent onto his hands and knees while Glorfindel slowly made love to him from behind. The Elda's hands were cool against his skin as they held him, and Erestor's head drooped, his breathing punctuated by soft moans and delicate sighs.
Glorfindel massaged Erestor's pale behind as he slid his shaft in and out of the tight opening. He was patting one of the Noldo's cheeks when his balance shifted, and his hand came down a little rougher than he'd intended. When Erestor moaned, though, Glorfindel experimentally gave the other cheek a slight smack. The Councilor gave another moan of pleasure, and Glorfindel continued, randomly spanking Erestor every two or three thrusts. The feeling sent shivers through his cock since Erestor would tense up with each smack, tightening the muscle around Glorfindel's rod.
The intensity of the spanks grew, and soon Erestor's rear was being pummelled with loud, powerful strikes that made his skin tingle and sting. The sensations had been pleasurable at first, but now his skin was beginning to ache from the punishment. He had trouble drawing in enough breath to speak or even cry out, though; the continual onslaught was certainly taking its toll, but Glorfindel felt so good inside him that he was torn between the pleasure and the pain. Erestor didn't find his voice again until a particularly strong blow went awry and struck his hipbone, sending a jarring pain through his whole body.
"Ai! That one hurt!" he cried out.
Glorfindel did not respond, did not even seem to hear.
He tried again. "Please stop that, meleth; it's really starting to hurt."
Again, nothing.
"Glorfindel, I'm not joking, you're hurting me!"
Erestor felt the Elda's hands on his back and breathed a sigh of relief. The moment was short-lived, though, when he felt his head jerked up and back. Glorfindel had taken hold of Erestor's long, dark hair and pulled with the force of reining in a steed. Erestor's throat strained to take in air against the pressure, and his eyes filled with tears. Almost immediately, Erestor felt Glorfindel's cock throb inside him and the heat of his orgasm spilling forth and filling him. He choked back a sob, his sight began to blur from the pain and lack of breath, and his neck muscles screamed in protest at being bent the wrong way.
When Glorfindel's release had finally subsided, Erestor's head snapped back against the bed as the Elda relinquished his grip with a start. "By the Valar," Erestor heard him whisper, "what did I do?"
Glorfindel looked down at the mottled mass of redness and rapidly forming bruises that criss-crossed Erestor's behind. He covered his mouth with a hand to muffle his cry of shock. "I'm sorry, melethron!" he suddenly exclaimed, pulling out roughly and backing away from the bed in horror. "I'm so very sorry!"
Erestor rolled onto his side, gingerly, as his buttocks were now in great pain, and held out his hand to his lover. "Shh, shh, Glorfindel," he said in the most comforting voice he could manage. "It's okay. We've never done this before. It was very nice; it just started to hurt after a while."
"No, no," Glorfindel said, sobbing as he fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor. "You don't understand, I wanted to hurt someone. I wanted to hurt you!"
Erestor got out of the bed and knelt beside the Elda, wrapping his arms around Glorfindel and cradling him to his chest. "I don't know what's happening, seron vell, but we'll get through it together, I swear."
Erestor was busy in his small office when Elladan came into the room. The Peredhel must have just returned from his extended patrol; he was still in riding leathers and was road-weary. But more than that, he looked meek, which was odd for the eldest twin. Erestor stopped writing his letter to Lord Celeborn and stood up. "Is something wrong, Elladan?"
Elladan was always amazed at the cool, even tones of his old tutor's melodic voice. The dark eyes always spoke of wisdom, age and cold, calculating precision. Erestor made chills go down his spine, so different from Glorfindel. "Can I speak with you frankly, Erestor?"
Erestor's expression softened slightly when he realized how anxious Elladan was. "Of course, pen neth."
"I think something is wrong with Glorfindel."
Erestor sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. He had hoped to keep this change in attitude to just himself and his lover. "How do you mean?"
Elladan chewed the inside of his cheek a moment, trying to find the right words. "These past weeks, he's become edgy. He snaps at Elrohir and I over the smallest things. He nearly brought Elrohir to tears last week during one of the training sessions. He seems... darker, angry all the time." Shining silver-grey eyes met his ink black ones and Erestor knew how upset Elladan was. "And then, on the patrol... I just gave my report to Ada, but I didn't tell him everything. I wanted to talk to you first. Erestor, I found myself becoming afraid of him."
"I know," the Councilor said simply, sighing deeply. Elladan opened his mouth, but Erestor held up a hand to silence him. "This is something that Glorfindel is having to work through. We don't know what is happening, but it is possible that it is the Ring's closeness to him."
"Because of the Balrog," Elladan said quietly. "Because of his death."
"Yes. As you can imagine, it is quite a painful subject for him, so I would appreciate it if you not speak to anyone else -- especially Glorfindel -- about his troubles or this conversation."
Elladan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. It wasn't like the Noldo to be so detached when speaking to the twins, his pupils. "You're worried about him, aren't you?"
For a moment, the strong front that Erestor was putting up crumbled, and Elladan saw the hurt and fear just behind the Councilor's eyes. "Desperately," Erestor whispered.
The elder Peredhel walked to Erestor and clasped him firmly by the shoulders. "He's strong. Whatever it is, he'll overcome."
The muted clang of dulled training blades rang out across the field as Glorfindel and Gildor traded an extended series of volleys and feints. The past four days out on the patrol had been extremely taxing on the Seneschal, and the best way he knew to unwind was with a friendly sparring match. The old Noldo had been happy to oblige, and so far, the two seemed equally matched. For the better part of an hour, neither had been able to land a blow.
"You seem distracted," Gildor said offhandedly. "Usually, you'd be two touches up on me by now. That cushy Seneschal position dulling your warrior's edge?" he joked.
Glorfindel parried automatically, returning with a textbook counterattack that Gildor spotted easily. The Elda registered suddenly that his opponent had said something. "What? Oh, yes, I suppose I am."
"So much the better for me, then!" the dark-haired Elf replied jovially.
"Really?" Glorfindel replied with a touch of his old self. "Then why are we still tied at zero?"
"Because my Uncle Maedhros was a better fighter than he was a teacher," Gildor replied with a playful gleam in his eye. He broke off his latest attack and stepped back, making a show of transferring his sword from his left to his right hand. When the Noldo reengaged, Glorfindel was instantly pushed to the defensive and all distractions were chased from his mind as he frantically parried, looking for an opening.
Suddenly, he saw one. Gildor's left side was wide open. He committed his attack, and immediately knew he'd been duped. It was an obvious ploy, and had the Seneschal been fully alert, he would never have fallen for it. Gildor spun quickly, blocking Glorfindel's blade from the inside. Before the Elda could retaliate, Gildor reversed his strike and scored a thorough hit against Glorfindel's exposed chest, dancing away before the blond recovered.
Gildor's laughter was cut short by Glorfindel's enraged howl. Glorfindel rushed the Noldo, blade firmly in both hands. Gildor's good humor evaporated into a sudden fear as he was driven back again and again by the Seneschal's powerful swings. He had the sudden realization that Glorfindel wasn't faking this; he was after Gildor in earnest.
Gildor did not want to hurt Glorfindel, but he was rapidly running out of options as his advances were repeatedly beaten back. Finally, he picked his shot. Gripping his sword tightly, he pointed the tip straight up and moved to club the Elda on the side of the head with the hilt. It should have worked, but Glorfindel, in his fit, seemed possessed with the speed and power of the Valar. He spun in toward Gildor, blocking the Noldo's elbow with his forearm and smashing his elbow back into Gildor's face.
But Glorfindel didn't stop moving. He reversed direction, planting his left foot just in front of his right and pivoting toward Gildor's sword arm. He disarmed the Elf by shoving his shoulder into Gildor's wrist and used the momentum to push the dark-haired elf backward. At the same time, he hooked his right foot around Gildor's ankles and swept the Noldo to the ground.
The entire exchange took less than two seconds.
Gildor shook his dazed head and looked up from his unglamorous position on the ground. "Okay, Glorfindel, I yield," he said, forcing a laugh, even though his chest still ached from the impact.
Glorfindel did not accept the surrender; he gave no sign that he'd even heard at all. He stepped beside Gildor, braced his left hand on the bottom of the sword, and drove the dulled point of the blade straight down toward the Noldo's chest.
Gildor barely had time to react. He clapped his hands together, trapping the flat of the blade between his palms. Had the sword been sharp, he would likely have lost fingers in the maneuver. The Elda kept pushing down, trying to break Gildor's grip. Knowing that even a dulled point would impale him with the force that Glorfindel was using, Gildor tried desperately to get through to the entranced Seneschal.
"Glorfindel, I yield! It's over!" Gildor knew his voice was quivering and weak. He was literally begging for his life, something that an Elf, especially an Elf of the House of Finrod, would never conceive of doing. It was interesting how certain circumstances could lay waste to Ages of preconceptions. "Damn you, Glorfindel, you've made your point! Stop this!"
The Elda froze, blinking several times as though taking stock of his surroundings. He looked down at Gildor and a look of horror appeared on his face. Glorfindel tossed the training sword away and ran, full- speed, into the woods beyond the sparring field. He ran blindly, trying to outrun demons that lay deep in his own heart. As the woods of Imladris flew by him in a blur, Glorfindel's mind became a whirlwind of thoughts, memories of the weeks past.
It had all begun with his temper, his anger becoming harder to keep in check. Rougher training sessions, harsher scolding of the house staff. Glorfindel dodged a tree and effortlessly avoided a large fallen branch. Then, when he had found out Thranduil was to arrive, he had lashed out at Erestor.
Once Thranduil had arrived, though, things just slipped. He snapped at Elladan all the time, sometimes yelling at the young Peredhel in the halls when they met. Then the training session with Elrohir.
He had hurt the young twin. Not physically, but he had humiliated him in front of his brother and his comrades. He had called him names and beaten his self-esteem, attacking his technique and his training habits. The look in those grey eyes, the panic and anguish, had cut through the fog that would envelope him and he stormed off. He knew Elrohir thought it was his fault, but it hadn't been...
Glorfindel panted with his exertion, his muscles screaming for relief, but he kept running. The next sign that things were progressing down a dark path came while he was bathing late one night. Lindir had come into the bathing chamber to replenish the supplies. He knew the silver-haired Elf had thought him asleep in the pool, and he had moved quietly. His senses, though, were in that dark fog -- almost like smoke -- and he instinctively reached for the dagger he always kept with him. It was only at the last moment that his mind had cleared and he had averted his aim, the blade sinking into the wooden door frame next to his friend.
Lindir had quickly exited the room and Glorfindel became enraged in his embarrassment. He knew he needed help; something was consuming him, taking him over slowly but surely. He broke free of the wood and realized he had run to the end of the lands Elrond claimed as Rivendell. For a moment, his mind was still. He always felt this pull, this need to leave his home and his family. He wanted to journey East. And he knew what lay East.
So he fought.
Until five nights ago, when he made the swap in the duty roster. He had switched himself for Elrohir on the extended patrol for a reason. He had awakened to find himself straddling his sleeping lover's form... a blade pressed dangerously close to the pale neck covered in dark, silken hair.
He had to get away. Away from all he loved. He had mutilated the Orcs they had found, taking out his rage and hatred. He knew he scared his men, the fear was clear enough in Elladan's eyes. But, he needed the release. Peace only came for a few short hours.
Now he had almost killed Gildor. He could not risk this any longer. He needed help. He would speak with Elrond as soon as he could. After the Fellowship left, he would seek out his friend, his Healer, and beg him to rid his heart and soul of this darkness.
Erestor made his way quickly through the winding halls of the Last Homely House. Glorfindel had been avoiding him for the past few weeks, never sleeping in their bed and never speaking to him unless there was at least one other person in the room. He missed his lover and wanted to know just what he had done to upset the Elda.
Lindir had let Erestor know that Glorfindel had finally returned to their chambers for something and Erestor took this chance head on. He needed answers.
The dark-haired Elf swept into the room he had occupied with Glorfindel for so long and silently latched the door. Standing by the wardrobe was the blond Elf, swiftly packing a bag.
"Going somewhere?" Erestor asked with an icy edge to his voice. He was sick of this game.
Glorfindel started and looked at the Noldo with wide, frightened blue eyes. "Yes. I thought I would stay in one of the guest rooms for a few weeks." He continued to stuff clothing into the pack.
"Were you planning on informing me that our living arrangement was going to change? Or was I to find out from Gildor or Lindir?"
The Balrog-slayer threw the pack down and turned on the Councilor. "Erestor, we have made no pledge to one another, no promises! I need space, I need to just... be away from you!" he cried out.
Erestor felt a lump form in his throat. "Glorfindel, if this is about that night... I told you, it was all right."
"No! This isn't about that night. Well, yes it is, as well as a number of other things!" Glorfindel looked at his lover pledingly. "I need to be as far from you as possible, meleth. You," he said quietly, "bring out the worst in me, it seems."
The Imladris Lord gasped, recoiling as if he had been struck. "Glorfindel! How can you say such a thing?! The worst in you? I have hardly been around you! You have this whole household on their guard, everyone short of Elrond is terrified of you. Please," he begged. "Please, tell me what is happening."
Glorfindel's shoulders sagged in defeat. "I do not know, Erestor. All I know is I need to move out of this room... before I hurt you."
Erestor advanced on Glorfindel, holding out his hand to him. "You would not hurt me, my Lord. You never have. Why should you start now?"
The Elda took a few step away from Erestor, feeling trapped as his back came in contact with the cold stone of the wall. "Erestor, stay away from me." He hissed when the cool hand of his long-time lover touched his hip. "I am not myself!" he hollered. Erestor's grip tightened and the fog returned to Glorfindel's mind.
He was trapped. He was angry. Why wouldn't he back off?! Why wouldn't he leave him be? He needed away, he needed to run from him, run from the suffocating room. He acted instinctively.
His right hand swung from its position at his thigh, swinging high and with terrible force. He connected with Erestor's jaw, the momentum of the impact sending the shocked Noldo flying across the room, landing on his rear. Erestor's hand flew up to his face, tears threatening to spill from his huge, liquid eyes.
Glorfindel took a step toward him, dread and shame clouding his features. "Erestor, I-"
The proud Councilor, who had fought beside the Balrog-slayer and the Lord of Imladris in Eregion, at Dagorlad and at the Siege of Barad- dur, recoiled from his lover and scrambled back away from him. "Leave, Glorfindel of Gondolin. Leave this room and do not come back."
Erestor was surprised at the even tone of his voice when he could barely hold back the tears of pain and heartbreak at being struck by someone he thought he could trust with his life. Glorfindel nodded once, grabbed his pack and left the room. Erestor got up slowly, his head still reeling from the blow, and calmly walked into his bathing chamber, latching it once he was safely inside.
On his way out the door, Glorfindel had run into the twins. He instructed them to aid Erestor, not telling them why the Councilor would need their help. After he left them, though, he headed for Elrond's study. This could not wait anymore.
He burst through the door, shocking the Elf-lord who regarded him with a wary expression.
"Glorfindel?" The Seneschal was pale, all blood and warmth lost from his face. He was breathing quickly, his eyes wide with fear. "What has happened, meldir?" Elrond approached him, but Glorfindel shied away, shaking his head.
"Do not come near me, my Lord. I have just sent Erestor across the room of our quarters after he placed his hand on me." Glorfindel took in a shuddering breath. "Elrond, something is terribly wrong with me. I feel a darkness, a black nothingness that is consuming me -- mind, heart and soul. Please, you must help me!"
Elrond came closer to Glorfindel. "I need to touch you, I need to sense what it is in you before I can even begin to help. Will you allow me to?"
For a moment, his old friend looked like a frightened deer, taut as a bowstring and ready to fly out the door. Then, he relented, swaying slightly on his feet, nodding his head.
"Sit, Glorfindel."
The Elda did as instructed, seating himself on the small sofa in the office. Elrond simply placed his hand on Glorfindel's head, closing his eyes for a moment and seeking what was bothering the Elf.
He immediately snatched back his hand, his own eyes wide and panicked. He sensed frenzied emotions, disjointed thoughts and an anger so deep, so white-hot that the Peredhel feared for the people he protected. His friend was not well, his spirit was being lost in a directionless, coreless evil.
With a voice thick with emotion, he spoke softly. "I cannot help you, meldir. This is beyond my power."
"What am I to do, my Lord?" Large, sad eyes met his clouded grey gaze.
He looked so lost, so desperate. Elrond nodded, deciding the only one who could advise him would need to be contacted. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the familiar silver glow he knew so well. Casting his mind out, he grasped at the cool mind that emanated knowledge and serenity. When he opened his eyes, he saw Celeborn's bedroom, dappled in the late afternoon sunlight.
Elrond?
Yes, my Lord. I am in need of your counsel.
Elrond could feel Celeborn's immediate apprehension. The Imladris Elf rarely used this intimate form of communication with him. It must be dire to Farspeak me, Elrond.
The Peredhel sent a bundle of thoughts and images to the silver Elf-lord, relaying by thought what was happening in his home. I do not know what to do. I cannot help him.
In his home in Lothlorien, Celeborn's gaze fell to Haldir, who was sprawled out across the great bed. He smiled, his metallic silver eyes blazing at his lover. "You must travel the road to Imladris, melethron," he said slowly. "You will meet Lord Glorfindel and bring him here. He is in need of our help."
The March Warden quickly stood, nodding to his lover and walked out of the room. Celeborn returned his thoughts to Elrond.
I am sending Haldir to meet Glorfindel. Send him here, on the main road, and I will repair what I can. If I can. I make no promises, meldir. He has a long battle ahead of him, but I will try as best I can. Send him now, Haldir has already left.
Celeborn severed the connection and Elrond's eyes cleared. He looked down at the forlorn Seneschal. "Go. Take Asfaloth and ride hard to Lórien. Haldir will meet you along the main road. Celeborn will help you, as I cannot."
Elrond entered his Councilor's room to find his sons standing before a closed door. Elladan was pleding with the occupant to come out, that they were there to help him.
"Elladan. Elrohir. Leave us."
It was an order, not a request, and the twins quickly vacated the room. Elrond sighed, feeling exhausted and worn thin. He came up to the door and in a steady, quiet voice said, "Erestor. Open this door."
After a moment, the latch withdrew and his old lover slinked out of the bathing chamber. Elrond drew in a quick breath. Erestor's right cheek was already marked with a hand-sized bruise, spreading from the top of his cheek bone to the lower portion of his jaw. The force Glorfindel had to strike with was incredible. The Noldo's eyes were red-rimmed and tear tracks could be seen on the pale face.
"He has been sent to Lothlórien, Erestor. Celeborn will take care of him."
Erestor nodded, walking to the bed and seating himself, the blank look never leaving his eyes.
"Would you like anything?" A shake of the head. "Would you like to compose a letter to be sent to him upon his arrival?" Another shake of the head. Elrond let out an exasperated sigh. "Erestor, please, say something."
Erestor looked up at his friend, sniffed slightly, and spoke. "I would rather I never saw his face again, my Lord. I wish to return to my previous chambers until such time as you travel over the Sea. Then, I wish to accompany you."
"Meldir, do not be so rash. There is something wrong with his heart, he needs time to heal..." He trailed off as Erestor shook his head.
"No, Elrond. I can never trust him again. I cannot... I just cannot. Will you permit my wishes?"
Reaching up to cup Erestor's unmarked cheek, Elrond nodded solemnly. "Of course. I will have Lindir help move your possessions."
Erestor nodded. "If you don't mind, my Lord, I would like some time alone. I do not feel that I will make it to the evening meal. I hope you and the twins do not mind."
Elrond stood up and nodded. "Take all the time you need. Nothing is pressing now that the Company has left us and the Quest has begun. Now, we simply wait. If you need me, though, you are welcome to come to my chamber -- day or night."
Erestor nodded.
"My arms, and bed, are still open to you should you need a comforting presence."
The dark-haired Elf smiled slightly. To anyone else, that may have sounded like a proposition. Erestor knew better. Elrond was offering companionship, someone to drive away the nightmares and sadness. "Thank you, Elrond."
The Healer nodded and slowly left the room. Erestor looked around, taking stock of the room and how cold it seemed without Glorfindel's bright, warm presence.
Then the Councilor hung his head in his hands and silently wept.
