The greatest story was you and me,
We had it all; we had everything
But now the story's done, it's just history, the last act is over
Your every line had the sweetest sound
Your every touch turned my world around
But then the light came up and my world crashed down
End of show - it's over...
--Not A Dry Eye in the House - Meatloaf


Erestor stood on the balcony of his room looking out over the sea. Aman was somewhere over that vast blueness, as was his heart. His chest tightened and he felt the familiar sting of tears. They never seemed to stop; the loneliness and the tears consumed his waking hours.

Theirs had been the most vibrant love in the white city. Turgon had looked upon them with longing, the loss of his wife having left him a gaping wound in his heart. A wound Erestor could now empathize with. He slowly slid down the balustrade, gripping the railings with his hands and leaning his heated brow against the cool metal. The tears fell now, as they did every night.

He could still see his love on the walls of the city, his dark hair blowing in the midnight breeze. The sweet, stolen kisses when they first began their courtship, then the open, passionate ones they shared when their love became known. Glorfindel had seen to that. They were looked to with wide, wondering eyes. The quiet scholar and the vivacious warrior; what a pair they had made.

Erestor could remember the first time the Noldo had laid him upon their bed, the night they were bound. Time had stood still as he looked up into the fairest of their race, into eyes a stormy swirl of grey and warm with the love they shared. When the glorious being possessed had him, when he felt him move in him he had wept. They touched the stars that night, and every night after. They had loved as deeply as any bonded pair and he mourned the loss of that love, that security.

He could still hear Glorfindel calling to him, pulling him with the other fleeing Noldor. Erestor looked all over the Square, looking for his bereth. He could not leave the city without his mate, without his reason for living. Then it came. Towering above them all, all heat and shadow. He watched with wide eyes, his lips speaking soundless words as he shook his head as his world went crashing into the King's Fountain.

No.

Glorfindel had dragged him away, speaking quickly, telling him some nonsense about a noble death and how he would never forgive him if he did not take Erestor from the burning city. Fighting, blood, heartbreak and death. Erestor's heart screamed as he ran from his home, from his love. They fled, up the mountain, through the pass, and he lost his dear friend. One more of his kin dying to protect a dwindling number of survivors. Tuor forced him along, forced him to keep walking, to keep living. Erestor simply wanted to lie down and give up. What was there left if his soul mate slept at the bottom of the cold fountain they had kissed by so many times?

They had forced him on, told him to bring the news to Gil-galad himself. Now, he was Gil-galad's scholar. He lived in the great palace. Erestor of Gondolin was personal friend to the High King of the Noldor.

And he wrapped his arms around his knees, his tears falling on the rich velvet robes he had been given. He was a refugee of the lost city.

Erestor was alone.

His family, his friends, his mate were all gone and he was alone. His heart tore in his chest and the loneliness clawed at him, beckoned for him to give into black oblivion. But, he couldn't.

Ecthelion had given his life for the people of Gondolin... for him. His bereth, with eyes the color of mithril and hair the deepest shade of midnight; the warrior with hands of soft silk and lips that tasted of honey. He would never know the reassuring weight above him, the sure strokes within him, or the warm laughter of his dear lover.

No, the greatest of the Noldoli had passed from Middle-Earth and left his brokenhearted mate behind. Bereft of hope, of faith and of love.

Erestor clung to himself and looked through tear-misted eyes over the sea, where he knew Aman lay.

The dream of love and life he had shared with Ecthelion rested at the bottom of the deep fountain. Drowned in honor and duty.

Their dream was over.