Title: All Your Way

Author: Talullah (talullahred@gmail.com)
Author's website: www.secretstigma.net

Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel.
Summary: When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers (Oscar Wilde).
Rating: R.

Feedback: I would love to learn your opinion on this.
Archive: My website, Secret Stigma; AFF. Others are welcomed, but please tell me
where it is.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien
and God knows who else. No disrespect intended. No profit made. 'All Your Way' is a
song by Morphine (Sandman = Le Sex).

Author's Notes: Written for the Secret Santa Slash at LotR All Slash Yahoo Group,
for Books, who requested Erestor/Glorfindel, Glorfindel topping, and angst. 

More notes and credits in the end.

Betaed by Mirasaui who is a patient darling. Thank you! :)

~~~~~~
Imladris, 3018 Third Age 

"Terror has a way of happening whether you want it to or not," Erestor thought. He
was terrified again, a desperate feeling of drowning forcing all air out of his
lungs as he saw a riderless Asfaloth coming from the trees. As the horse neared and
changed his course toward the house, he discerned a bundle of rags on his back, and
he found hope, though his eyes told him that form could not possibly be Glorfindel,
dead or alive. Patrol guards followed Asfaloth closely, but he only stopped when he
reached the courtyard where he was met by several elves and Elrond himself.

His hands shook so badly he dropped the ink vial he had been preparing and had
carried absently to the window when he heard the first voices of alarm. The vial hit
the windowsill before falling to the ground, creating a dire splash on the wall and
on Erestor's clothes; Erestor barely took notice. His fingers dug in the cold stone
until they were white and sore and dusk had fallen outside. He had waited nine days
and nine nights for Glorfindel's safe return, he might as well wait forever to see
him once on this Arda or beyond time. He had stopped staring, his forehead against
the cool window, his eyes shut against the cruelty and lack of purpose of
Glorfindel's demise when other shouts of alarm made his heart flutter.

A party came nearer, more warriors escorting them, but he did not really care for
the others, though he noticed Estel with them. The only thing that mattered was that
which had returned his blood to his veins - rich, gold hair shining even in the
dark. He felt himself shaking with relief, as if he had been holding his breath for
the last three hours and slowly realised, he had ruined his breeches with the ink as
well as the rug and that in some places his fingertips bled because the nail had
separated from the flesh. He smiled. This was nothing. Glorfindel was home. He stood
watching a bit longer, knowing that in the dark he would not be seen. He saw Elladan
and Elrohir greeting their foster brother and their mentor of old then gently
welcoming the curious party of periannath.

A flash of paler blond flooded his line of sight and Lindir was there to greet his
lover. The feeling of relief that washed over Erestor was so great that this time it
did not hurt. He actually smiled and turned from the window before the pain had time
to sneak in and mar his joy. He sat in his chair, composing his thoughts and
directing a small prayer of thanks to Manwë. In moments like these, he knew it had
been worth it.

~~~~~~
A week later

Glorfindel watched Erestor progressing through the hall. He had tried to lose that
irksome habit, but his will seemed to lack in strength what his heart had in
excessive stubbornness. He had thought that time, which washes all stains from
bruised hearts, could be his ally, and maybe one day it would be, but now, he still
had a very active and undignified interest in all that concerned Erestor.

This night, he wondered why Erestor had chosen that particular attire, for he wore
formal dining robes of yellow raw silk, a strong colour that conjured summer and
sunflowers. It was inappropriate for this late autumn, of course. In addition,
Glorfindel knew all too well that Erestor had always secretly hated that particular
outfit and had used it only once to please him as it had been a begetting gift from
him, in the distant time they had been lovers. He was actually surprised that
Erestor had chosen to keep it after their parting, and that he had chosen to wear it
this night for no apparent reason. For a moment, he dared hope that Erestor would
call him to the side and tell him he had been a fool, but he knew no such thing
would happen. It was more likely that Erestor was courting someone who liked the
wretched colour. Or perhaps, he wanted a change from his usual palette of greens,
blues and burgundies, but it was still an unusual choice. Erestor hated with passion
two colours: that very yellow and the black to which his station forced him in
formal occasions such as today's council.

Despite himself, he followed Erestor to the balcony. "I couldn't help but noticing
the robes you've chosen for today, Erestor," he said without a clear sense of
purpose.

"Well, don't get your hopes up," Erestor cut. "My choice had little to do with you.
In fact, I had forgotten you had been the unfortunate donor."

Glorfindel smirked. "No need to worry about my hopes, intentions or expectations. I
would remind you that I am otherwise engaged."

"Yes, you have made a point of that on previous occasions. Not very graceful and,
I'm sorry to say, not very effective for I care little about your affairs of the
heart."

Glorfindel lifted a doubtful eyebrow, but inside he felt the stab. The words could
be true. They probably were.

"But returning to your point," Erestor continued in a kinder tone, "I merely desired
to wear something sunny today of all the dark days."

Glorfindel nodded. He could understand the feeling perfectly well. They both stared
at the dark gardens below, immersed in their thoughts. An image from the past
crossed Glorfindel's mind, him standing behind Erestor in front of the mirror before
dinner.

"My sweet peacock," he had whispered affectionately as Erestor braided his hair for
the second or the third time. 

Erestor had looked into his eyes in the mirror and had replied lasciviously,
"Cock," stretching the word as far as it could be stretched. Desire had flooded
Glorfindel so swiftly he had felt light headed and merely replied a breathy "Yes."
They had left for dinner.

Glorfindel made an effort to return to the present situation. "You look well," he
said, breaking Erestor's concentration.

"You see me everyday... I distinctly remember your dislike for small talk," Erestor
replied.

"We have stopped talking altogether. Small talk is better than nothing."

Erestor pursed his lips; Glorfindel feared it was a sign that he had pushed too far
and yet it had not felt nearly enough. But he was mistaken.

"True," Erestor admitted at length. "I mean we have not talked much of late but
small talk is still boring and I would have thought you would have something more
interesting to say after such a meeting as this day."

"You are an interesting enough subject for me," Glorfindel quipped, not feeling
quite remorseful as the flash of pain crossed Erestor's face. They remained silent,
Erestor inspecting something on the ground, Glorfindel staring at a stray dark lock,
wishing he were still allowed to tuck it behind an ear.

Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Do you ever..."

Erestor looked up, startled. His lips formed an 'O' but the negative that Glorfindel
anticipated never came. Instead a warning eyebrow movement and a vague look over his
shoulder told him someone was coming, and he could easily guess whom.

Familiar steps then a possessive hand snaking around his waist claimed him and he
felt an urge to wipe the smug smile from Lindir's face. Instead, he schooled himself
and turned to his lover. "Ready, I take it?"

"Yes," Lindir replied tightening his grip and they both strode off. Glorfindel did
not look back. He hoped it hurt Erestor as much as it hurt him.

~~~~~~
A month later

The same way that we find comfort in a well-worn pair of shoes, we find comfort in
our opinions, seldom letting go of them in favour of a new view. Thus, Erestor knew
he was on the safe side with Glorfindel. He had said the words, broke off their
little arrangement under the pretext of boredom, knowing that Glorfindel could think
them out as much as he wanted without ever coming close to what they hid. He simply
lacked the piece of the puzzle that could enable him to understand the extreme
absurdity of Erestor's actions.

That was cold comfort to Erestor, though. It was hard not to feel angry with
Glorfindel for not understanding the incomprehensible. But that anger worked for
him, helped him in keeping Glorfindel at bay. And that hurt him the most. 

He was cold, he lay cold in his bed and alone as on every other night, and he tried
to take comfort in what he could. In this moment, he took comfort in the idea that
the pieces of his plan were falling into place. Glorfindel, wanting it or not, was
staying in Imladris. If Glorfindel's lover was too much of an incompetent to do it
himself, Erestor, on the other hand, had more than good motive to ensure that
Glorfindel would not expose himself on the wild goose chase that this quest would
be.

He had counselled Elrond the best he could for long, regarding the choice of the
members of the Fellowship to be formed. He knew his arguments against the inclusion
of Glorfindel were feeble and he resorted to their shear number, as he knew that
alone they were dismissible. Elrond could see through his arguments too, but Erestor
kept using his favourite two: that Imladris needed her most able protector at such
times and that the enemy was too well acquainted with Glorfindel and his presence
would bring more notoriety to a mission that was supposed to be stealthy at best.

Still, Elrond wavered on the brink of the decision. He seemed to think that Legolas
was too young and inexperienced and he was terribly reluctant in sending the child
of a long time friend on an ill-fated adventure. Eventually, Erestor saw the way to
follow in Elrond's uncertainty.

Logistics could have been a problem, but he had good friends and a hefty degree of
influence. Time was against him but time is nothing for the cunning. Now, Erestor
watched from his window, his plan unfolding, things taking their place, of course
with a little help from his hand.

Riders approached, coming from the woods; from their haste and the direction they
came, they certainly brought news of an expected run in with the Orc band that had
been approaching the southeast border. Of course, Erestor had made sure the reports
never reached Glorfindel's hands. And of course, after a teensy bit of persuasion,
Elrond's twins had invited the second Prince of Mirkwood to accompany them on their
patrol of precisely that area. The brethren had thought it complete non-sense to
invite a guest for such a sortie at first, but Erestor had pointed out quite
eloquently that Legolas was bored and probably would appreciate a change from the
palace life. They had to agree that never had a prince looked so much like a fish
out of water in a palace as Legolas... except for themselves.

He should have felt guilty for putting the young prince at unnecessary risk, but he
had to make sure that Elrond saw with his own eyes what he already knew: Legolas was
lethal, efficient, low profile and more than apt to dispatch all the Orcs that came
his way. And, he was not Glorfindel and therefore, regrettably, expendable in
Erestor's account. But he was sure Legolas would live to tell the tale - seldom had
he seen the life force shining as strongly in one not born in Aman. This mildly
appeased his conscience, but mild was better than nothing.

A few hours after the messengers arrived, the main patrol followed. Another patrol
had already replaced them. Only two were wounded. Legolas and the twins were covered
in dirt and speckled in blood and it was obvious that the sortie had forged a
warriors' bond between them. 

Erestor smiled quietly at dinner while Elladan recounted enthusiastically the
consequences of Legolas's perfect aim and Elrohir asked him about a particular
technique with the long knives. Elrond listened, but Erestor was sure his cause had
been won. Glorfindel was still out patrolling the northern border.

The following day Elrond announced that he had decided who would integrate the
Fellowship. Legolas bowed, grateful that he had been allowed the honour of
representing Elven kind.

Erestor was pleased. Lying, deceiving, manipulating were certainly not his favourite
activities, but he did have to admit that he excelled in everything that he ever
did. Most everything, if one would discount the abysmal moment of stupidity in his
past that had lead him to his current situation.


~~~~~~
Mithlond 3021, Third Age

"Won't you miss all this?" Glorfindel asked Erestor, taking him from his waking
dream. 

"I suppose." Erestor didn't turn to face Glorfindel, choosing instead to continue
appreciating his last sunset on Middle-earth before the great unknown. "Don't you
miss it?" he asked at length.

Glorfindel took a deep breath. "I'm not sure. But I don't regret staying a while
longer on these shores with our little girl." He let the rest of the thought hang in
the air and Erestor did not disturb it. 

Glorfindel inspected Erestor's profile in the calm silence that settled. It was
strange that he hadn't changed at all: the same dreamy eyes surfaced when he let his
guard down, the pale scar of a childhood horse fall sat on his temple, the same lips
pursed in some secret amusement. But everything had changed... a change should leave
a landmark to signal it because otherwise one would be tempted to forget it.
Glorfindel almost reached out to touch Erestor but he stayed himself and turned his
eyes to the bright mix of orange and magenta spreading in the skies.

People often take cold comfort in small things. For Glorfindel, it simply was not
his last night with Erestor, but unfortunately, that image always flooded him
whenever they spent more than a few minutes together. Now was one of those times. He
saw it in the eye of his mind, the coloured sky erased by the candlelit yellows of a
tent. They had both been exhausted, fearful, dirty and the sex had been nothing more
than dropping breeches, kneeling on the floor by the cot, and using it as support
for thrusts that lacked vigour or passion but not haste. Glorfindel had fallen to
Erestor's back as soon as he had come and Erestor had been so tired he had not even
taken the trouble of finding relief for himself. He just buried his face in the
covers as their bodies disentangled, more by the action of gravity than by will.
Erestor had rejected his forlorn offer to 'take care of him' with a grunt.
Glorfindel shrugged and ran a hand through Erestor's hair as he got up from the
ground and dropped to the bed in his dirt-covered clothes, his crotch still open. He
reached his hand wearily for Erestor, who didn't take it but climbed to the tiny
campaign bed for another uncomfortable night. Before he could say goodnight, they
were both asleep as well as any remaining desire. There had not been kisses of the
sort that fill tomes of poetry, just some measure of comfort in the familiarity of
touch, and it would have been fine, had it not been the last night they had spent as
lovers.

Now, it was a sharp torn in his side, improbable meanings rising from every little
gesture, regret washing all memory. He asked himself over and over if it had been
the cause of their break-up but that seemed so improbable. They had been together
for a long while; there was love, there was still passion, but not every night was
like a honeymoon. And this had not been their first battle together or their first
trial. During the nights they had spent on the road when they had fled Eregion it
had been about the same - they were tired, dirty, and had invested little in
lovemaking, seeking just a dash of relief from the tension, the fear in the night.
And they had stayed together for long after that.

Glorfindel sought alternative explanations but none satisfied him. Their love hadn't
cooled, it was obvious that Erestor hadn't fallen in love with any one else, he had
never accused him of any offence or misgiving... Glorfindel could believe that it
was truly over; he had to devote an extraordinary amount of energy in convincing
himself.

"No 'happily ever after' for us, eh? Was it because you're a coward?"

"What?" Erestor turned, stunned by the question after such a long silence. His face
changed from polite interest to the blankest indifference quickly enough as the
meaning of the question seeped in, but Glorfindel thought he had seen anger flicking
there for a moment.

"I asked, was it because you're a coward?"

"As I've told you before, I really have stopped caring about your opinion of me...
but I don't think I quite follow you."

Glorfindel smiled, pleased. Erestor had just opened the door for him to explore a
possible explanation that had eluded him before. "Do you know how sometimes people
sit talking, relaxed about some event of the past and then someone says something
that completely changes your notions of events?"

"Always too wordy... You mean you had an epiphany and that I'm the poor soul with
whom you decided to share."

Glorfindel dismissed the barb - he was more than used to them. "An epiphany... yes,
you could call it that. But returning to my little revelation, it struck me as odd a
remark Elrohir made about Legolas on the way here."

Erestor raised an eyebrow. Glorfindel contained a smile - Erestor had taken the
bait. "He said," he continued in an almost absent tone, "that if it hadn't been for
your council, they wouldn't have become such good friends with Legolas and that he
would probably have never been part of the Fellowship as a consequence."

"Ah... so I give good advice... I would say that's a good reason for first Gil-galad
and then Elrond to take me as their chief advisor. But I don't see how that makes me
a coward."

"We'll get there." Glorfindel paused. "I remember distinctly that month in my life.
I was very angry for a while, and to speak truthfully, I'm still quite annoyed that
Elrond would make such a decision as choosing Legolas over me, all the more in my
absence. And when I think of the motives for my absence, I become even more
irritated. And it had your finger in it, too. The more I think about it, the more
I'm sure you orchestrated the whole thing."

"Humpff. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you are delirious. Now if you excuse
me..."

Erestor moved to leave the balcony, but Glorfindel held his arm brusquely. He knew
Erestor too well. He would never run if he weren't scared. So it had been true, his
wild guess had proven to have some veracity. Glorfindel in his heart believed that
Erestor had tried to spare him from danger as he had tried before. He resented him
for interfering in the fulfilment of his duty, but more than that he rejoiced that
Erestor would go through such trouble for him. But what did that mean if he still
kept his distance? What kind of caring was that?

"Let go," Erestor warned.

Glorfindel loosened his grip but didn't abandon it completely. "Will you tell me
why?"

Erestor shrugged. "Simple strategy, something a bit above your intellect: we needed
you in Imladris."

Glorfindel would have believed him. He could have but in the last moment Erestor's
eyes ran from his.

"These barbs of yours reveal more than they conceal," he said approaching, his hand
still on Erestor's arm, but now tender, soothing. 

Erestor looked away, over the balcony.

"You know that thing with Lindir is over now, don't you?"

"None of my-"

"No, don't," Glorfindel pleaded. He could take more harshness, but not in that
moment. "I was very angry at you." He leaned his head to Erestor, inhaled the scent
of his hair, and then dropped a light kiss on his cheek.

Erestor sprung free and ran inside.

"Fine," he muttered to himself, still unconvinced of Erestor's proclaimed
indifference. The time would come for the truth to show, he was sure.


~~~~~~
Valinor, 61 Fourth Age

Erestor had never thought himself to be the proprietor of a great faith. For him,
the Valar were disappointing, cold deities and Eru Ilúvatar, an absent, useless god.
However, his heart turned to faith in the moment of his greatest affliction, leading
him to commit the worst error he had ever committed. He wasn't one for superlatives
but that had most certainly been his defining moment.

Now, he tried to remedy it. Ever since his arrival to the shores of Aman, he had
been trying to obtain audience with Manwë. In fact, even before he asked about
housing or occupation or anything else, he had asked how it was done to meet with
the Valar, or more specifically, Manwë.

From his observations, Manwë was far from being the cold, reserved demi-god, at
least to everyone else. But to him, it had taken sixty long years to obtain an
audience and even now that the day had come, Erestor was made to wait in an
unsheltered hall. The spring winds were harsh on the top of Taniquetil and he
shivered from the strain of the climb and from the cold of the dwelling. But he
would climb a thousand more mountains twice as high to be able to ask for the one
thing he needed the most.

He wondered if Manwë would make him wait for the rest of the afternoon, or perhaps
even the night. In a way, he supposed he deserved it - aspiring perjurers are rarely
treated kindly. But what were a few hasty words to the king of the Valar?
Nevertheless, Erestor was quite sure that Manwë had kept him waiting because he knew
what his request would be. Could it be that the Lord of Air had a sense of humour? A
cruel one?


He waited and waited until the sun set - he would stay for the night then.
Shivering, he found himself a more protected corner and crouched there, trying to
keep warm. He revised his prepared speech as he had done so often and sat there in
the dark, still waiting to be called.

To add to his discomfort, hunger started gnawing at his stomach. Why couldn't have
Manwë received him in Valinor like he did all the others? Time enough passed that
his hunger faded by itself and the cold became familiar. He nodded brusquely once,
then twice, and then he resigned himself to being found sleeping when the time came.

The sinister laughter of the Witch-king boomed in his ears and Glorfindel stupidly
chased him, white and gold shining in the shadows. Erestor ran behind as fast as he
could. Then he lost sight of Glorfindel. His surroundings were a haze of slain
creatures of the dark. A vague notion that the splatters of blood were the doing of
his sword nagged at him but that wasn't important. The truly important thing was to
devise Glorfindel in the darkness that he had run into, and that, Erestor could not
do. He despaired, and despair gives wings to stupidity. His lips moved before his
mind, offering a prayer loud enough to reach the skies. "O Manwë save him, O Manwë,
I give you my most precious possession for his life." The shadows had dimmed and
Glorfindel came through, unscathed. He dropped to his knees and prayed for thanks,
incoherent words of deep relief, even as the realisation of what he had said hit
him. Glorfindel was his most important possession, if one could call another a
possession, and in his heart he knew that desisting of Glorfindel was his offered
price.

Erestor awoke startled. This dream of the past was always vivid, but it wasn't
frequent. As often happened after it, he wondered if he hadn't been rash. The Valar
had been so conspicuously absent, for so long, that it was doubtful Manwë had done a
thing on Glorfindel's favour. Chance, he had plenty of available examples, was a
much more determinant force in the affairs of the world than most people would grant
it. Still, the question was daring. Could he have dared falling into Glorfindel's
arms after such an oath? Temptation had been great but he had held strong. He could
live with perjury - he had done worse than that in his long life - but could he risk
Manwë's wrath? He had not doubted that Manwë's punishment for his faithlessness
would hit where it would hurt him most - Glorfindel.

He was rising from the ground when steps alerted him to the presence of another. He
expected to find a maiar servant when he turned but in front of him stood Manwë.

"May I be freed?" he asked instantly. What good had it done him to practice words,
arguments over and over for so many years? He cursed himself silently.

Manwë was equally blunt. "I did not ask for your sacrifice."

"But you took it, nonetheless." Erestor cringed; being accusatory was hardly good
strategy.

"Yes."

Erestor waited for more but none came. Manwë's stare intimidated him, but after a
few moments, he insisted "If he ever returns to these shores am I free?"

"Did you ever think such an oath had any meaning for us? Would we have sent him back
only to let him perish at the first encounter with the other side?"

"No." Erestor had had the same thought himself many times.

"And do you think we are petty enough to hold on to such an oath that means nothing
except for the two of you?"

Even for the sons of Fëanor there had been a very remote but yet real chance of
redemption, if the words attributed to Mandos were true. Erestor shook his head.
"No."

He waited in silence, watching Manwë walk around. He had noted the first traces of
rose spreading on the horizon when Manwë spoke. "Yet, I dislike those who promise
lightly."

Erestor's heart raced. He could handle what punishment he deserved, but not the
thought of being held to rash, futile words. 

Manwë pursed his lips. "If he returns, you are allowed to pursue him." Before
Erestor could express any thanks, Manwë added, "but you are forbidden to tell him of
this oath."

Erestor bowed his head in obeisance, his joy now marred. It could seem to be a small
thing, but he suspected Manwë knew more than him and that one day this would truly
be a punishment.


~~~~~~
Valinor, 122 Fourth Age

Glorfindel had arrived a week before. He had no idea of what to do now, but he
wasn't in a hurry. He stayed in Elrond's house, but he considered it a temporary
arrangement. Valinor was a large, well-populated city, but the people there might as
well live in a small village. Everyday, he ran into someone who wanted to know the
'whole story' from his lips. The 'whole story' was long and some stretches of it
were painful and he was becoming tired of being some kind of a show. It would have
seemed that people would already know the 'whole story' by now, but no. And they
also seemed to forget that it ended with the death of the little girl he had helped
raise and loved as if she was his own.

The only person that seemed to respect his feelings was Erestor. But if at first, he
had found his contacts with his former lover refreshing, even comforting, soon he
started to suspect that something was very wrong: Erestor had stopped being a nice
person to him after their separation. There were those constant snide remarks,
latent aggressiveness in abundance, and a general avoidance. Now, Erestor visited
him almost every day, sometimes just for a short 'hello'. He didn't recall the airs
from Aman to bring forth such spontaneous congeniality so something else should be
cooking.

Glorfindel decided to confront Erestor. He had always hated games; he needed to know
exactly what was going on, but not in Elrond's house with its permanent horde of
visitors. So, when Erestor showed up again under some feeble pretext, he played it
nicely and asked him if he cared to take a stroll to the harbour. Erestor eagerly
agreed, looking too pleased for Glorfindel's tranquillity.

Upon reaching the harbour, they found a nice spot, relatively protected from the sea
breeze and as soon as Glorfindel ensured himself there was no friendly acquaintance
just waiting to interrupt the conversation he was about to have, he asked, "Why are
you being all nice, Erestor?"

Erestor smiled hesitantly. "I'm always nice." His smile betrayed the joke but
Glorfindel chose not to take the easy way out of the conversation.

"We both know that you can be less than nice and that you have made a point of not
only rejecting me as exerting your best efforts to diminish me. Now I want to know
what brought about the change."

"Nothing, really. I'm sorry if my clumsy jokes have hurt you in the past. You know
how high in my regard you are." Erestor was an excellent liar when needed, but
Glorfindel knew the little telltale signs: one was the absolute stillness of his
hands while he talked and in this right moment, Erestor stood as if he were a
statue.

"Right, right," Glorfindel said, so annoyed that it didn't even sound ironic. "Are
you insulting my wits or have you taken a blow to the head?"

Erestor looked away, over Glorfindel's shoulder. Another telltale sign. But then
Erestor took a deep breath and looked straight into Glorfindel's eyes. "Remember the
last time we talked? When you asked me if I was a coward? Well the answer was yes.
It might sound melodramatic and extremely nonsensical but I chose to walk away
before I could lose you. Now there's no fear... so I wondered if... I wondered if we
could try again? If you're willing, of course."

Glorfindel listened, stunned. Yes, he had thought of the hypothesis but it was so
out of character for Erestor that he had dismissed it. Not only was Erestor no
coward but he was also not so stupid as to not immediately detect the blatant
fallacy of such a warped concept. But Erestor stood before him, eyes rounded like a
puppy's, waiting for some answer. 

Glorfindel looked away, paced impatiently, trying to figure out so much insanity,
but it was impossible. "What? Do you expect me to believe that?" he practically
shouted, attracting the attention of a few fishermen who mended their nets nearby.

"Well, it's true."

Glorfindel shook his head. "And they think you're intelligent!"

"You're too agitated for us to talk right now. How about thinking about it for a
while and then-"

"Oh please! And you dare patronising, on top of it all! You're insane!" Glorfindel
walked away, large angry strides taking him from the bloody idiot who had ruined his
life for nothing.

But when night fell and he found himself alone in his room, he thought of a time
when at the end of the day he could talk with his best friend, tell him the little
nothings of his day, laugh or become indignant at the tales he heard in turn. And
then he could kiss and cuddle with his lover, make love in the large bed, fall
asleep next to his warm body. He missed that. But Erestor had made sure that didn't
exist anymore.

Erestor continued his little siege, more discreetly, more carefully than before, but
every day he flashed himself in Glorfindel's life. Glorfindel decided he had to
leave Elrond's house at once, but it was proving hard to find a free dwelling in
Valinor and to build one would take forever.

One day. Erestor heard him talking with Elrond and decided to be his solicitous
self, to Glorfindel's irritation. 

"I know a nice little place near mine. If you want to I can take you there, if you'd
like," he said.

"Thank you, but no thank you," Glorfindel said.

"Glorfindel, you're being silly," Elrond reproached.

Glorfindel sighed in resignation. Elrond could be like a dog with a bone... He rose
from his chair and said, "Well, let's go then, get this over with."

They walked, Glorfindel in furious silence, Erestor chattering about the dubious
virtues of the house. Against his will, he did have to admit in the end that the
house was more than adequate and he sealed the rent deal with the owner. The elf
left them alone in Glorfindel's new home. Erestor kept on behaving as if nothing had
ever happened, chattering, suggesting, exploring. Glorfindel listened in silence
until he burst.

"Do you think it was that easy?" he asked angrily. "That you could just one day wake
happily and decide, 'oh, let me go back to the lover I scorned'?"

Erestor looked at him surprised. Then he nodded slowly. "Why not?" he asked. "Can't
you forgive me for this mistake?"

Glorfindel was confused. He should have made that question to himself. He had pined
for Erestor for long. But how could he trust him now? And after he had cooled down
from the conversation on the harbour, he had started thinking about what had been
said and he simply still didn't believe Erestor. 

Erestor took a step forward and tried to touch his arm. Glorfindel retreated, but as
Erestor was leaving, he said, "I will think about it."

And he did. He thought and thought and yet, he advanced little toward any
conclusion. Erestor had greatly limited his latish court, but now followed him
everywhere they met with those sad, puppy eyes that so irked him. 

One day, he desisted. He had to find council outside the vortex that was his head.
But who? Elrond, Celebrían, the twins, and the majority of his friends were playing
matchmaker, trying to guess what was happening, giving spurious advice. He thought
of a maiar he had once known in his far youth, but he rejected the idea; they were
now complete strangers. If Námo lived closer... but maybe Vairë would be more
accessible. He could hardly imagine Námo taking time to hear of love quarrels. He
wandered through the streets meditating on this until he left the city and reached
the foot of Taniquetil. He looked up startled: he hadn't realized he had strayed off
that far. Then he chuckled on the thought of the imposing Manwë listening patiently
to his troubles. No, he would have to think elsewhere. 

He was returning when he met Varda on her way home. Bowing politely, he greeted,
"Good evening, my lady."

Varda smiled. "Ah, he wonders. I've heard news from you, recently."

Glorfindel bowed his head slightly. It was preferable to avoid a direct answer but
he suspected which type of news she had heard.

"Are you one of those silent types?" she asked with laughter in her voice.
Glorfindel shuffled his feet, embarrassed.

"Not really."

"So you could tell me what had you so deep in thought that you barely saw me..."

A gossipy valier, Manwë's wife, nonetheless. Glorfindel almost laughed in her face,
but then he thought, 'why not?'

He talked. He started slowly, reluctant to relive those years after the separation
and all his doubts, but then he got enthusiastic, expanded the tale, until he came
to his present state, alone and confused.

"But in the end you haven't told me the fundamental thing," Varda said when he
rested silent.

Glorfindel looked up confused. 

"Do you want to try again or not?"

"Yes." Glorfindel's answer was swift and sure, surprising himself.

"Then I would tell you a secret..." She smiled. "Did you know that I'm an
incorrigible matchmaker?" 

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes, my darling, I am. And I do know Erestor's true reasons. He's a poor darling,
almost as silly as you are."

Only curiosity and a healthy fear of getting on the wrong side of a valier made
Glorfindel bite his tongue at the patronizing.

She smiled as if she had read his thoughts and perhaps she had because he felt a
presence in his mind and then that presence expanded to a set of memories that were
not his own. She showed him everything, more than once, but he still could not
believe it. 

"Keep it just between us," she said. Then she left, heading for her home, and
Glorfindel strayed back into town, numbed by the revelation. On one hand, he could
hardly believe that Erestor, his pragmatic, self-relied Erestor had done such a
thing. He would sooner believe that the sun could rise west. But he couldn't
question Varda and why should he? His feelings were mixed to an extreme: it was hard
to separate the undefined anger from the guilt of not having imagined the
unimaginable, from the confusion, the regret, the hope, and the love.

He locked himself home, trying to understand. Two days later, he still didn't but he
saw Erestor passing in the street, no doubt heading for Elrond's.

"Erestor!" he called from the window.

Erestor turned. Since the day Glorfindel had rented the house they hadn't spoken
beyond superficial conversation and always at Erestor's rather timid instigation.
Erestor looked up surprised, but he rapidly schooled his features. "Yes?"

"Come in, please."

Erestor nodded and came in. Glorfindel heard him climbing the steps, then opening
the living room door. 

"Yes?"

Glorfindel wasn't quite sure of what he wanted to say. He closed the distance
between Erestor, looking at him as if it were the first time he saw him and perhaps,
it was. Erestor stood silent, unsure.

Glorfindel touched his arm, but a touch seemed too little. He moved closer, but
Erestor flinched. 

"Are we playing," he asked suspiciously.

"No, no." Glorfindel embraced him but Erestor still suspected.

"So this means that-"

Glorfindel kissed the hair that covered Erestor's ear. 

"Yes, I think so." He wasn't quite sure yet, but he couldn't think of going on any
other way. "You won't lie again, will you?" he asked.

Erestor pulled back and looking straight into his eyes replied, "No, never."

They stared at each other then slowly came to a kiss. It was almost too much to
bear, this slow way that they had found to search for each other, but there was no
other way.

"But are you sure," Erestor insisted.

"Yes. I finally see things all your way."


Finis 
December 2005

~~~~~~


Silly little notes: 

1) To Books: I'm sorry, my darling, that this has more holes than a Swiss cheese and
no sex and ends in fluff, but... ah well.

2)'Why not?' I asked myself when, after two glasses of Port, ripping off poor Graham
Greene started looking like a good idea. So this became a mix of Books' request, one
of the core ideas of 'The End of the Affair' (twisted, of course), a couple of
challenges from Quill and Ink (opening line and word soup - demonstrative, daring,
sunflowers, dusk, "happily ever after") and the lovely Tolkien substrate of always.
To top it, I'm including it in Fanfic100 under Prompt 033: Too Much. Now that's what
I call a quilt. ;)