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.
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