You are troubled.

I know this, and yet you appear to have no idea. How? I always know... I have always known. You, however, seem to be content to go about your life with your concealing façade safely in place and never let anyone see your problems. Not even yourself, I should think...

I see, though. How can I not? From the moment you first arrived, you caught my eye. Not through your looks (though, admittedly, they are impressive) or even your rapier-like wit and the charm that you use to make sure that your mask never falls out of place (in public, anyway). Rather, I saw your sorrow. I saw the subtle restless melancholy lurking beneath your painstakingly polished surface, a surface you had constructed to keep said melancholy from breaking free.

But barriers, especially self-made ones, are not infinitely strong. They all break eventually, even yours. Yes, even yours. I wonder what will happen when they do...

---

Glorfindel stood near the edge of the roof and surveyed the stars with a bittersweet expression upon his face. So beautiful, the stars... but so cold, too. So distant...

He looked down at the Bruinen below him. It would be the last thing that he would see in this lifetime, for he had chosen to go this way, to fall. He had fallen to his death before, yes, but this time was different.

This time there would be no searing heat, no burning flames that engulfed him all the way through to his soul and charred the very air about him and turned living flesh into nothing more than dead black ash. This time there would be only the cool caress of the night against his skin, and, perhaps, the stinging nip of impact as he hit the water.

After that, Glorfindel reasoned, the shock to his body from the fall would render him unconscious and he would be aware of nothing as he drowned.

He closed his eyes and drew one last breath of the sweet, summery-scented air, and prepared to take a step forward and bring an end to it all. Suddenly –

"Glorfindel! No!"

He spun round as fast as he was able (mindful of the edge) and saw to his utmost astonishment Erestor standing there, clad in a lightweight shirt and leggings. His appearance was even more surprising than his sudden intervention – before now, Glorfindel had only seen the advisor wear robes, and heavy robes at that.

What an odd thing to be thinking about just now, he mused, before returning to the subject at hand. "Leave, Erestor. I do not wish you to witness this." He almost sounded bored.

Erestor marveled at the calm with which the seneschal spoke those words. "Do not do it, Glorfindel!" He knew that merely saying that was not likely to change Glorfindel's mind, but it would delay him for a few more seconds.

The seneschal said nothing for a bit. Erestor, seeing this as progress, took a step forward to try to better reason with him.

Glorfindel took half a step back, the back of his heel hanging over the roof's edge. "Come no closer, Erestor!"

That stopped the dark-haired Elf completely, and Glorfindel turned back around to face the river.

Quick as a flash and silent as a ghost, Erestor came up behind him and, knowing he would only get one chance at this, flung his arm about the seneschal's waist. He began dragging them both away from the edge, and Glorfindel struggled unsuccessfully – they were equally matched in strength, but Erestor had better leverage and his bare feet gave him a better grip on the roof than Glorfindel's boots did.

The blond Elf flailed his right arm, trying to break away, but Erestor pinned it with his own and slowly but steadily they made backward progress.

"Why are you doing this?" Glorfindel growled as Erestor dragged him back towards the trapdoor that led inside.

"Why are you?" Erestor countered breathlessly – Glorfindel was putting up quite a fight.

"You could not possibly understand," Glorfindel told him angrily, as Erestor pulled him through the trapdoor and began to head down the inclined ladder that served as a means of access.

Glorfindel tried to knock him away, knowing that this was his last chance at escape, but Erestor was more athletic than he had anticipated and would not be overbalanced. Indeed, he even managed to reach up and latch the trapdoor behind them while losing neither his footing nor his grip.

Once that was done, and both Elves were standing on the floor, Glorfindel again attempted to break free. Erestor let him, but quickly moved to stand in front of the locked door. He did not plan on letting the seneschal kill himself...

Glorfindel, turning towards the door and finding Erestor standing there, arms crossed, growled in frustration.

"Why could I not understand?" Erestor questioned quietly. What has you so upset? Why would you want to take your own life?

"You just... could not," Glorfindel answered hurriedly, and attempted to get around Erestor and to the door. The counselor easily blocked him at every turn. "Let – me – leave!"

"No." Erestor surveyed him almost warily. "I will not let you do it, Glorfindel!"

"It is not your choice to make!"

"Perhaps not," the counselor conceded, and then redoubled his argument, "But why would you want to make it?"

"You could not know."

"Why?" he persisted, determined not to leave until he got an answer.

Glorfindel saw this, and realized that it was futile to resist. "You are not... you have not..." Oh, how to explain his feelings? How to explain the constant crushing sensation of bleak despair that had been oppressing him ever since he had reawakened to this world? How to explain that this second life was hopeless, utterly so, and that he could no longer bear the weight of such sorrow?

There were no words to express it – there were no words, but Erestor understood, somewhat. "I have not died?" he guessed, asking in an oddly gentle tone of voice, "Is that it, Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel made no answer – he wasn't quite sure what to say.

Erestor stepped closer. "Is that why I could not understand?"

Glorfindel was persistently avoiding his gaze, arms crossed and eyes cast towards the walls, the ceiling, anything but the advisor. At length, he nodded.

Erestor sighed. Now what? He couldn't leave Glorfindel alone with his inner demons – he would probably try to kill himself again – but he didn't know how to help. After all, he hadn't died before, and neither had anyone he knew – except for Glorfindel.

"Are you sure I would not understand?" he asked, almost coaxingly. Glorfindel was silent, so Erestor continued, "Why not try to explain and see if maybe I understand it better than you think?"

"You would not," the blond Elf told him, so softly that Erestor almost did not hear.

"You cannot be certain of that," the counselor offered, and went on, "A problem shared is a problem halved, Glorfindel."

"That is not true," the other Elf replied, shaking his head. "Not in this case, anyway..."

"Why?!"

A bitter laugh escaped the blonde's lips before he could rein it in. "It is hopeless, Erestor, can you not see?"

Erestor's brows furrowed. "What is hopeless?"

"Life!" he exclaimed, turning away. He hadn't exactly meant to say that; it had just popped out of his mouth. Curiously enough, it made him feel slightly better...

'"Life, Glorfindel?!" the counselor questioned incredulously as the seneschal began to pace.

"Yes, you know, existence, survival, the continuation of this endless impossible reality! It is all doomed, just like every single one of us is! We are no more than the sum of our idealistic egos, teetering over the edge of the gaping abyss that is this world!" Out of breath, he stopped his rant and faced Erestor.

Shocked at the fact that someone could have such a bleak worldview, Erestor merely stared at him for several minutes. Finally, he asked, "How could you possibly know this?"

"I have died!" Glorfindel practically yelled, and then lowered the volume of his voice. Almost reasonably, with more than a healthy dose of bitterness, he went on, "I have died, Erestor, and I find it infinitely preferable to living."

"I do not understand." How can you think that way?!

"You do not have to," Glorfindel assured him with a small smile that was part forced, part bitter, and part reflective. "All you need to know is that I am doing this because it is what I genuinely want. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have unfinished business to attend to..." He turned back towards the ladder, hoping that the even tone of his voice had lulled Erestor into letting him go.

Erestor, however, was not so easily appeased, and Glorfindel cursed inwardly when the dark-haired counselor grabbed the back of his shirt, stopping him. "Leave me, Erestor," he stated warningly.

"I will not," Erestor informed him, using his hold on Glorfindel's shirt to make the blond Elf face him. Briefly they locked eyes, and the seneschal's steely stare was an equal match with the counselor's determined if mildly frustrated gaze. It shocked Glorfindel, certainly, and for a moment he could think of nothing to say.

Erestor raised his eyebrows, observing this, and continued, "Explain, Glorfindel. Why would you rather be dead than alive?"

"Why should I explain to you?!"

The dark-haired Elf cocked his head to the side, just a little. "Because I am not going to stop questioning you unless you do."

"Pah," Glorfindel shook his head, "I can withstand any badgering you might put me through." He even added a sneer, hoping to irritate the counselor into distraction.

"Me, perhaps," Erestor conceded serenely, arms crossed, "But what about Elrond?" He said it so lightly, so nonchalantly, that Glorfindel knew he had to have been planning it all along.

The seneschal's eyes narrowed. "You would not."

"I would." It was tempting, very tempting, to grin rather smugly as he said that, but Erestor held back, not wishing to make himself even more of an aggravation than he knew he already was.

"No," Glorfindel replied, more to convince himself than inform Erestor, "I know you. You would not."

"Think what you will," Erestor told him, "But perhaps you do not know things as well as you think you do."

They were getting off the subject, far off the subject, but that meant delayed discussion of other issues, and Glorfindel much preferred it that way. "Fine, then. You can and will inform Elrond if your interrogation of me does not succeed, and I know absolutely nothing whatsoever. Now, will you leave?!"

"No." He spoke the word almost glibly, with an ease that spoke of maybe innocence, maybe ignorance, maybe some odd Erestorish combination of both.

Glorfindel began to pace again, and his tone took a gradual turn towards pleading. "Erestor, I am asking you to please leave. I do not want to get you involved in this. Please."

The counselor's voice was remarkably soft, and his tone unbelievably low, as he watched the seneschal pace. "It is too late, Glorfindel. I am involved already."

Still pacing, Glorfindel glanced at him. "You are not. You can still leave, and, quite frankly, I would rather you did."

Erestor raised an eyebrow. "I could leave, yes, but then I would be partially responsible for your death."

Glorfindel laughed, bitterly. "You would not be! You have nothing to do with this!"

Incensed, Erestor began to follow the blonde as he paced. "I do too! I know what you are going to do, and if I fail to stop you then that makes me an accomplice!"

"I do not think of it that way," Glorfindel assured him, and sighed. Calmly, as though the counselor were a pupil and he an instructor, he went on, "Trust me, you are helping me by allowing me to do this..."

If anything, this had the opposite effect than intended and the dark-haired Elf grew agitated. "I am not allowing you to do this!" he nearly shouted. A thought occurred to him. "And why do you want to do it so badly?"

The blond Elf clammed up at that. "I have already explained it to you, Erestor."

"Not well."

A question came to Glorfindel's mind; he stopped his pacing and looked at Erestor. "Why are you so determined to find out?"

"Because I do not want you dead!"

"Too bad, Erestor! I want me dead, and it is my decision to make!"

"It may be your decision, but no matter what you do, it impacts the rest of us! Do you even realize that, Glorfindel?!"

"Of course I realize that!"

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because, quite honestly, I do not care!" the blonde spat, gesturing angrily and turning away. The fire quickly left his tone, though, and his stress was evident when he raised his hands to his head and began massaging his temples. "I just do not care..."

"I highly doubt that," Erestor snorted, serenity dissipating. "I think it more likely that perhaps you do not want to care, but –"

"You are wrong, Erestor!" Glorfindel cut him off, exasperated. This was getting to the point where it no longer mattered to him what they were arguing about – Erestor was becoming quite irritating and Glorfindel wasn't about to concede anything to him if he could help it.

"Am I?" Erestor questioned quite calmly, curiously, even. "Really?"

"Yes!" The seneschal's voice was venomous.

"Hmmm..." Erestor began, resting his chin on his hand in a pantomime of ponderance. "If you are truly so apathetic about it then why are you getting so angry?" As before, he spoke the words softly – to a casual observer they would have seemed almost a pleasantry – but there was a heavy undercurrent of provocation.

Glorfindel glared.

Erestor glared back.

Sighing frustratedly with more than a bit of ire, Glorfindel turned away. "All right, Erestor! Fine! I give up! Is that what you want to hear?!" His words were the complete opposite of his tone, however, and Erestor was not deceived.

"No, Glorfindel, that is not what I want to hear. What I want to hear is whether or not you still intend to kill yourself and why you wanted to jump off that roof in the first place," the counselor countered edgily.

The seneschal stayed silent, and the room was noiseless for a long while.

At last, Erestor sighed, "Fine. I can see that this is going absolutely nowhere..." He trailed off, waiting to see how Glorfindel would react.

The blonde said nothing, looked blatantly away. This went on for quite some time, and gradually the tension that had been building up inside him all day lessened, and his body became aware of just how late it was. Suddenly, with such an intensity that it was surprising that his jaw remained intact, Glorfindel yawned.

Erestor took notice. "It is late," he pointed out. "Sleep would do you good... you ought to go to bed, Glorfindel..."

Irritated, the seneschal made his retort. "I will go nowhere! Do not tell me what to do!"

"Stay here then," Erestor shrugged. "It does not matter to me..." He sat down on the floor then, back against the door. "I, however, am feeling rather drowsy and I think I shall sleep... feel free to wake me if you have anything to say."

With that, he rested his head on his knees and drifted away into the dreamworld. Glorfindel, his hands resting on his hips, opened his mouth and prepared to make an angry reply, but halted when he realized that it would be wasted on someone sleeping.

He stood there, glaring and irritated for a very long time, until he realized that it was pointless to glare, because Erestor would not see it. And then he realized – Erestor was asleep. Asleep as in not entirely aware of what was going on around him. Asleep as in Glorfindel could do anything except try to go through that door and there was a great chance that it would not be noticed...

Hmmm... He walked in front of Erestor, peered into his eyes. They were unfocused, and he waved a hand in front of them, trying to provoke a reaction. Nothing. Good...

Slowly, carefully, and even more silently than normal, he headed to the ladder that served as access to the roof. He climbed one step, then two, then three. At the top he halted, and reached for the latch...

"No!" Erestor was up in an instant, standing at the base of the ladder. "Glorfindel..."

"We have already spent too much time discussing this, Erestor. Leave me be!"

Erestor, instead of protesting, merely sighed and gave Glorfindel a questioning look.

"What?" the seneschal finally asked.

The dark-haired Elf's voice was quiet, extremely so, and he sounded genuinely interested when he inquired, "Do you honestly want to do this, Glorfindel?"

"Yes." The answer was given without hesitation, but with less enthusiasm than there had previously been. Either Glorfindel was so tired that talking was a chore, or Erestor was making progress.

"Why?"

"Because there is no other way!"

"No other way to what?"

"No other way to end this... anguish..."

Erestor's brow furrowed. Something is deeply wrong here... He said nothing, however, and Glorfindel sat down on a step and began to explain.

"Do you have any idea how depressing, how totally and utterly depressing," he began in an emotion-laden whisper, "it is to give your life for what you think is a final, noble cause? Do you realize how horrible it is to think that your sacrifice, your ultimate, absolute sacrifice actually accomplished something, only to find out that it did not matter? Do you have any clue as to how meaningless that can make a person feel?"

Erestor, not sure what to say, merely shook his head.

"I am meaningless, Erestor! I died for nothing! I died for nothing and I no longer wish to live..."

Not understanding, the advisor asked, "How are you meaningless?"

"The world is dark! Again, we are threatened by an evil power so great and terrible that he was not killed the last time we vanquished him! Again, he will attempt to take over everything and kill or enslave us all! I died in a war against a Dark Lord, Erestor, and I was stupid enough to think that perhaps his defeat would mean an end to such things! My death – indeed, the deaths of everyone who fought against him – served no purpose whatsoever, and then I was brought back, for nothing!"

"You are wrong, Glorfindel." Erestor answered fervently.

"I do not see how..."

Of course you do not see... this notion comes to me suddenly, though I suppose it should not surprise me after all the time you have spent in hiding – hiding from yourself, hiding from the world, hiding from the truth. You tried to hide from me as well – oh, you tried – but you could not. You could not...

I remain in doubt as to whether or not this has occurred to you yet, but I know it – yes, I do. The problem, I imagine, is finding a way to make you realize...

I cannot tell you that I understand, because I honestly do not and I am growing weary of falsehoods and fabrications. I do not understand, but I know. Oh, I know...

I know all too well.

---

Erestor's response was strangely calm, for all that he had spent this night embroiled in discordant argument with someone who was not inclined to listen. He thought a moment, with a cheerless half-smile on his face and an oddly distant look in his eyes, then shook his head. "No," he replied, as if realizing for the first time, "You do not." How I wish you did...

He stopped talking then, and stood a while, unsure of what else to say.

Glorfindel stared at him, thinking as well, though the counselor has no clue as to what about. Finally, perhaps to break the unpleasant silence that was bringing him into far too close of contact with the unhappy ideas inside his head, the seneschal spoke up, "Well, then, now that we have established that it is utterly hopeless, will you leave?"

Erestor, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, chewed slightly on his bottom lip as he crafted a response. "It is not utterly hopeless, Glorfindel! Not for me, and certainly not for you! Surely you must have some reason for living..."

The blonde, staring at the walls – he was not entirely comfortable looking into the counselor's eyes, though he was not quite sure why – declared so softly that he was almost talking to himself, while wearing an astonishingly eloquent and wholly honest smirk, "Believe me, Erestor, I know hopelessness. This is –"

The second part of the advisor's answer caught up with him, and he suddenly looked at Erestor, startled. "And I have no reason for living. That is why I was up on the roof..."

Erestor, to put it simply, was stunned. It shocked him beyond measure to hear something so despondent from someone who had never seemed so upset. I cannot believe that! I must not... Not if he hoped to help, anyway.

"Do you truly mean that, Glorfindel?" he exclaimed, "Does not this place, your part in it, your effect on the people here – does not –" his voice gradually grew in volume, and he was making sweeping gestures with his hands, something he only did when agitated, " – does not any of it mean anything to you?!"

"It does, Erestor," Glorfindel sighed, fatigued. "Of course it does..."

He ran a hand through his hair, and went on, "But my job is easily filled, and my death cannot be mourned forever. I cannot live with this – this life anymore! I need to die, Erestor; I need to go back to those cold halls where there is nothing – happiness, sorrow, or otherwise – nothing save the endless numbing wait for the time when everything draws to a close."

Erestor decided that he needed to stop this kind of talk quickly, as it would doubtless only serve to further convince Glorfindel that killing himself truly was the answer to his problems. A sudden notion struck him – "Then why are you still alive?"

"What?!"

Now that he had something to go on, the advisor's agitation calmed, and he began pacing back and forth – a habit he engaged in to expend mental energy rather than burn frustration.

With an almost analytical attitude – it was a purely intellectual question, not meant to be provocative – he elaborated, "If things are truly as bleak and hopeless as you say, then why do this now? Why tonight? Why not sooner, if this has been going on for all these years?"

Glorfindel merely stared at Erestor, wide-eyed and with more that a faint undercurrent of apprehension. He said nothing, however, and Erestor had just opened his mouth to speak when a knock sounded at the door.

"Glorfindel? Erestor? Are you in there?"

It was Elrond.

---

Elrond knocked on the storage room door, more curious than annoyed. It was well after daybreak, and though the seneschal and the advisor were supposed to meet with him this morning, neither one had shown up.

With some people, this would hardly have been a cause for concern; however, neither Elf was the sort to leave without telling or to miss a meeting. So, he had gone looking for them, but the two Elves in question were not in their rooms, nor, indeed, in any of the common rooms in the household. Neither were they outside anywhere in the immediate area, and finding them had indeed proven to be a challenge.

Eventually, though, Elrond had heard from one of the servants that voices had been heard from this room – not more than a closet, really – though the servant did not know just what said voices were discussing. Elrond had been quite surprised that the door was locked, but...

---

Erestor opened the door, squinting at the unbelievably searing brightness of the daylight. He had thought to bring a candle to illuminate the windowless storage room, but the hallway was far brighter. "Elrond," he acknowledged, and then said the first thing that came to mind. "Is it morning already?"

The Elf-lord took in this rather... odd... statement, and noticed Glorfindel sitting on the slanted access ladder, his hand shielding his eyes from the light. "Have you been here all night?!" he questioned incredulously.

The two Elves exchanged glances with each other, and then Erestor shrugged, and offered, "I suppose we have."

The Elf-Lord also took in Erestor's strange appearance – barefoot, and not wearing the heavy robes that he was always seen in, even in the middle of summer. He had not seen the counselor dressed this way in centuries... A peculiar, faintly horrified look passed over Elrond's face as he mentally debated whether or not he wanted to know why these two had spent the night locked in a dark room with each other.

The counselor, having some idea of just what Elrond was thinking, hastily answered the unasked question. "We were discussing yesterday's reports," he supplied, taking on the scholarly and faintly lofty air that he normally carried and that completely and easily obliterated any and all traces of the night's attitude.

Perhaps, he thought, it was wrong to lie to Elrond, but he was not sure that he should spread news of Glorfindel's problems... not now, anyway, without really mentioning it to Glorfindel.

The seneschal was quite surprised at this, and it momentarily registered on his face, but Elrond's attention was focused on Erestor and so he did not notice.

"Yesterday's reports," the Elf-lord stated flatly, making it clear that this story was much less than plausible. "I see..."

Erestor nodded, unsure of how to respond, and Glorfindel unexpectedly stepped in. "It is easier to concentrate on the task at hand in a place that is free of distractions."

He, too, had taken on a different manner than the one he had previously been displaying. Now, his behavior was as it regularly was – serious but not overly so, and always benignly pleasant.

The seneschal's response also sounded less than plausible, but Elrond was not about to blatantly accuse two of his greatest friends of lying to him outright just because they were acting slightly strange. If they continued to act oddly he would inquire, but right now he had more important things to worry about and so decided to drop the subject.

"Indeed," he stated. "There are new reports for today – they just came in last night." The reports in question came from King Thranduil of the recently-renamed Mirkwood, and dealt with the growing darkness there.

Again, Glorfindel unexpectedly spoke up. "I know, Elrond – I have seen them." He had been the one to receive the messenger, and had looked through the papers before placing them on Elrond's desk.

"You have?" Perhaps the seneschal and the counselor really had been working through the night.

"Yes, we have," Erestor told him. He was astonishingly good at telling bald-faced lies, perhaps because he was not the type of person one would usually suspect. "They were also a subject of discussion, and, indeed, the thing that kept us here so late. I am afraid that I must apologize for that, as it was my continued questioning that prolonged our conversation."

He was using bigger words than before, again becoming the scholar.

"Is that so?" Elrond was not sure he believed that statement, but Erestor seemed to be sincere. "Then tell me, what do you think of them?"

It fell to Glorfindel to answer this question, having been the one who actually saw the reports, and he climbed back down the slanted ladder and stood facing Elrond. "They are... most disturbing."

Erestor nodded his agreement, and Glorfindel continued, "We think that the best way to deal with this situation – as we currently do not know if it is something that can be solved by simply sending in a swarm of soldiers – is to keep in touch with both Mirkwood and Lothlórien, have a close watch on all that is happen outside the borders of our realm, and encourage the others to do the same. Communication could be enhanced by regularly sending messengers between all three realms..."

Elrond was quite surprised – they must have been working! "I was thinking of something to that effect myself... I was going to run it by you and ensure that I was not overlooking anything, but since we have both reached the same conclusion it appears that no further discussion is required. I shall write the necessary letters and send them out immediately." Pleased, he turned on his heel and left.

Several minutes passed in silence and the advisor turned to the seneschal. "What was in the reports, anyway?"

Glorfindel sighed depressedly. "Mirkwood is in trouble."

Erestor started to speak, something about the tower in the south of the wood, but –

Glorfindel shook his head. "It is more than just a tower, Erestor. There are hordes of orcs roaming into Thranduil's realm, and the spiders have taken over everything but the area immediately surrounding his halls. He tries to fight them off, but it never works completely as they are using the tower as their base."

"Thranduil will not let his kingdom fall!" Erestor answered.

"I know that... That is not what worries me. What worries me is that the rest of the world may soon be subject to the same torments as Mirkwood. Of course Thranduil will hold his kingdom, and when that happens, the Dark forces will begin to focus their attention elsewhere..."

He sounded so... troubled... as he said that, and something clicked in the advisor's brain. He turned an intense look upon Glorfindel then, shot through with a new awareness. "That was it!"

"What?"

"That was the final straw – that was why you tried to kill yourself last night!"

"Do not presume to tell me what was going through my head! You are not me, and the last time I checked you could not read minds!" he exclaimed angrily. He was massaging his temples as he said that, a sure sign of strain.

Another idea came to Erestor – perhaps even he does not know why he did it! Not completely, anyway...

What to do, then? Continue to harangue, harass, and argue in the middle of a public place? Continue this elsewhere, where they were less likely to be overheard by someone who did not need to know? Or perhaps... do nothing at all?

That was, indeed, the question.

What do I do now? Yet another question among scores of questions that I could – nay, that I should – be asking you. I should be pestering and pleading and even – Valar forbid – whining to make you open up to me, but I cannot. It seems unfair and wrong of me to force such talk upon you, and you would say nothing of import if forced, anyway.

As for yourself... you will not tell me of your own accord. You are too proud, I should think.

Too proud... or else too blind or too stubborn or too unwilling. Or any number of other things, as I think I am starting to realize. I thought that I knew your situation, that I knew you, but I am beginning to grasp how ignorant I truly am.

It seemed plain to me at first, some simplicity easily seen by a scholar or a soldier who thinks in black and white. Yet now...

Now what? It would be easy – too easy, and not accurate – to call you a shade of grey in my plain-thinking brain, but even grey can be dealt with. Grey can be split, can be broken down into other, simpler things – grey is, after all, a mixture of black and white. You are not grey. No, you are something else...

And I? I cannot make you talk... but perhaps I can make you listen.

---

Erestor considered for a second, and turned to Glorfindel. "If I let you go now, what will you do?" He still carried some semblance of scholarly bearing, and questions – regardless of the answers – would help him to organize his thoughts.

The inquiry took the seneschal by surprise – it was something he had not thought of – and he was silent for a bit before replying, with a shake of his head, "I honestly cannot say." He could not kill himself now, as it was day and someone would see. He had no wish to horribly traumatize anyone in Rivendell. That was how he rationalized it, anyway...

Erestor's response took almost no thought. If he could not trust Glorfindel to be by himself... "Then you are coming with me." He took the blonde by the upper arm, and began leading him away.

He expected the seneschal to resist, to put up a fight like that on the rooftop, but he did not. The blonde merely followed as he was told, considering.

What does Erestor think he is doing? As far as Glorfindel was concerned, there was nothing left to the matter! What could the advisor possibly want?

They reached the counselor's rooms quickly, and Erestor directed (gesturing at the couch), "Sit." That would have seemed funny at any other time, as Erestor was quite stern about it and sounded like someone addressing a misbehaving dog.

"Why should I?" The resistance was back – Glorfindel saw no point in this, and wanted to be left alone. He thought he knew where this was going... We have discussed this already! It is over with!

"We are going to talk." The statement was blunt, delivered in a clipped, efficient tone of voice. That alone was enough to tip him off – Erestor was planning something, the seneschal knew. He could see it brewing behind the scholar's eyes.

"What about?" He smiled as he spoke, as though this were merely small talk of the sort that accompanied afternoon tea. This marked the switch to a different strategy – if he kept replying like this, they would never discuss what Erestor intended. He could be distracted with ease, Glorfindel decided smugly, if one knew how to do it.

"You know what about." The counselor was quite serious. Dead serious, in fact, and displaying a face so stoic it might have been made of granite. It bore an astonishing similarity to the face Elrond wore whenever the twins did something they should not have and he had to correct the matter.

If Glorfindel were to react in kind, the conversation would doubtless get far too deep, far too quickly for comfort. He was aware of this, and so kept the smile on his face and (with the air of a fencer, parrying an attack) shrugged. "All right then, we will. So tell me, Erestor, how did you know I was going to do it in the first place?"

This statement was less blindly pleasant than the last one; his voice made it clear that this was a duel, though with words instead of weapons, and he intended to come out the winner. Indeed, he expected it.

The dark-haired counselor blinked a moment in surprise, as it took a second for Glorfindel's statement to register. How odd of him, to just bring it up directly like that, when he had been avoiding talking openly for hours... and he was being glib. Too glib.

The counselor's eyes narrowed. He is plotting something. Erestor refused to be drawn into the ploy; he was not what they were here to talk about!

"That is not important," the dark-haired scholar declared loftily. "The question that I wish to know the answer to is what made you go up there, and why you think that there is nothing here to keep you alive."

Glorfindel's smile grew obviously fixed, and Erestor instructed, beginning to pace, "You look nervous. Sit down, have some tea."

This rather mild statement was accompanied with a look that said that the seneschal had better do as told, and Glorfindel decided to save his opposition for something worthwhile.

That did not mean that he was giving up – the blond Elf glared at the advisor even as he sat down. There was, strangely enough, a teapot and the necessary cups on the low table in front of him, but he did not care to drink. What is he doing? Erestor was up to something...

"Have some tea," Erestor directed again, more forcefully. The ball was in his court now and they were going to do this his way. He'd given Glorfindel a chance to tell him what was going on, but he was going to have to revert to more drastic tactics.

Death was not the solution to the seneschal's depression – people were not back from the dead for no reason whatsoever; if he killed himself he might even be brought back a second time. That would only make him more depressed...

Rolling his eyes, his mouth pressed into a thin line that quite obviously said that he was growing weary of this, Glorfindel picked up a teacup. He held it in an iron grip, and did not pour any tea into it, still partially resisting. "I do not see why it is necessary to discuss this. I have explained to you my reasons for doing what I did and I can assure you that I still believe in them."

Erestor laughed then, a strange cold light showing in his eyes, and the laughter was as bitter as it was unexpected. "Hah! You think that your life is bleak? Tell me, Glorfindel, what was your death like?"

The seneschal merely stared at him, stunned by this sudden change in demeanor. He had not seen Erestor like this before...

"Was it quick?" the counselor continued, almost venomously, knowing that his atypical attitude was startling Glorfindel. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

The blonde merely looked at him, stone-faced and wide-eyed, as Erestor's words brought back the tortured, flame-scarred recollections of millennia ago.



The repugnant air about him veritably boiled, the heat causing the ash-laden atmosphere to ripple and weave about the scorched and deadened mountainside. The demon, too close, far too close, roared again, and the already searing air was made even hotter.

He had been fighting this thing for how long, now? He could not remember, but it had been long enough to turn his armor black with soot and reduce his shield to ashes. He was burned, too, his face red and blistering with more than exertion, more than heat. His armor felt like an oven, the mail links and plate protection painful to touch, now. The padding he wore under it was the only thing keeping it from burning the rest of his skin, and he did not know how much longer he could last.

The balrog had to be killed, he knew, and he had to be the one to kill it. He stood a chance, he had survived this long. He could feel the heat of his burning armor now on his neck and back, going through to his skin. He was roasting in this metal shell – would he survive long enough to finish the deed?

That thought and only that thought raced through his mind as he frantically ran and dodged and looked for a way to bring down this hideous fire-beast. He – a tall and mighty warrior, the greatest of his house – was so small, and it was huge, a gargantuan flame-demon bent on trying to kill him.

He doubted he would live through this, he had resigned himself to that, but he knew that what he did here on this mountain before he died affected many, many more people than just himself. He would die, but he would take the balrog with him.

And then – there was an opening! A single well-aimed thrust of his sword, and then there was a horrible gush of molten blood that spewed and scalded him as he ran back from it, baiting the demon. The fiery whip caught him, then, and his legs were burned worse than before and it hurt, but that was not what mattered.

The sword-thrust and subsequent injury had knocked the demon back, flailing against the discolored sky that was no longer blue, and it roared in pain, but when it saw its attacker running, it had lashed out with the flaming whip and had leaned back even more, trying to draw the puny being in. It was too far – the balrog had overbalanced and now was tumbling over the edge of the mountain, falling to certain death along with the one who had, in effect, killed it...

...and as Glorfindel fell into the open, soot-smeared air, he consoled himself, knowing that his sacrifice would save many other lives. He had done it. His death was useful.


"It was... horrible..." Glorfindel told him, with a shake of his head. The memories of it – the seared air and the seemingly endless fall – were as crystal clear as yesterday. His hand – the one holding the teacup – was quavering slightly, though he did not seem to notice.

"But was it quick?!" Erestor repeated, insistent and more than a bit harsh. He needed the seneschal to see his point – it was necessary if he wanted this to work.

"I... suppose..." The fall had probably only taken a few seconds, but to him it had felt nearly as long as the eternity he had spent in the Halls of Waiting. He remembered falling and falling and staring at the wounded sky through clouds of soot and dust and ash, knowing that because of him the sky could again be blue... and then the ground had hit him and he knew no more.

The counselor's tone was rueful. "Then you had it lucky."


To be continued...