Title: Love Never Ages
Author: Eremir (eremir82[at]yahoo.se)
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel (Erestor/Ecthelion, Glorfindel/Ecthelion)
Rating: NC17
Summary: Erestor was a young elf when Gondolin was fair, and fell madly in love with his 
lord. However, he was merely a servant and lost his love to another, worthier elf. Millennia 
later, he lives as an advisor in the House of Elrond when he receives the earth-shattering 
news. His nemesis has been brought back to life.
Warnings: Angst, character death (canon)
Feedback: Is enormously welcome
Disclaimer: Blatantly stolen from Professor Tolkien and twisted for my own satisfaction. I 
make no money and am but a speck of a crushed insect on the windshield of genius.
A/N: Written for the Eremir-needs-to-get-over-her-writer’s-block Challenge, April-June 2006. 
This was meant to be a short feel-good fic, but ended up being a quite long and very personal 
piece of work. I put my heart and soul into it, and I hope you like it. Beta’d by my beloved 
Half Elf Lost.


------------------------

Chapter 1 - Nemesis

The Last Homely House was so dreadfully quiet, you could drop a needle on the floor and the 
sound would echo down the corridors. Everyone had left their rooms to gather in the 
courtyard, to greet the stranger who was set to arrive: The great Balrog-slayer, returning from 
the seas. One alone was left inside. He sat on his bed, staring at the wall and listening to the 
murmurs coming from outside. Fools, the lot of them, he thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

It was early spring, the scent of budding flowers floating lightly on the warm southern winds. 
The days grew longer and brighter, the world once again waking from the cold of winter. The 
last of the snow had long since melted, the only reminder a lonely weathered hat from a faded 
snow-wizard lying still on the flattened grass. The elflings who built it had forgotten now, and 
moved on to play the games of the new season. All was light and joy and the protected valley 
was humming with mirth. But there was one elf who had not been touched by this merry 
mood. Within the confines of his chamber, his troubles bore down on him like a storm cloud 
heavy with rain.

When he first heard the news, the Chief Advisor had nearly felt his heart stop beating in his 
breast. Why this? Why now? For some unfathomable reason, the Valar had decided to give 
life back to one who was dead, and restore the temple of his body. And they had decided to 
send him here, of all places. Erestor had trouble understanding their reasoning. The people of 
Imladris didn’t need Glorfindel. They were doing just fine without him. They had plenty of 
able warriors protecting their borders, what good would another do? Another who didn’t even 
belong in this age. Another who hadn’t seen the world change and come to be what it was. 
One who had never heard the name of Sauron or fought for his demise.

Glorfindel was nothing but a relic of an age long gone, and a former lord with no current 
power. What kind of life was he expecting to find here?

Erestor refused to accept this. The notion that the reborn Noldo would simply walk in on past 
merit and become seneschal of the household had Erestor shaking with fury. But he had no 
say in this; Elrond was still lord of the valley and would do as he pleased. From wherever the 
half-elf received counsel on the matter, it was certainly not from his Chief Counsellor, a fact 
more disturbing than anything else. Erestor was already grown when Eärendil still suckled at 
his mother’s breast, and now suddenly Elrond thought he held more wisdom?

The advisor knew he was starting to think in less than rational patterns, and that his mind was 
taking him down familiar paths he thought he had left long ago, but Erestor could not help but 
boil in his own disgust for the infamous Noldorin elf.

The crowd in the courtyard broke out in cheers. The party from the Grey Havens had arrived.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The advisor could not help himself. He had to look. From the steps of the house he peered 
over the heads of his kin, and saw a banner of golden hair draped down a broad back clad in 
the finest armour. A regal white horse carried the blond elf through the gauntlet of curious 
people who had gathered to get a glimpse of the new addition to the household. When the 
warrior dismounted he disappeared from view, and Erestor had to wait for the crowd to 
disperse before he got a clearer look at the stranger. A faithful entourage still followed the 
lord and his new seneschal like a serpent’s tail as they approached the house, and the 
counsellor was able to pick up pieces of the conversation. The voice from the past sent chills 
running down his spine.

Elrond walked beside the blonde, a hand on the strong shoulder, as if they were long lost 
friends reunited. Glorfindel was smiling. It was really him. Erestor knew that smile. His heart 
immediately sank, losing the last of his hopes that he wouldn’t recognise the Balrog-slayer, 
that another’s face would meet him at this day of judgement. Immensely familiar blue eyes 
met his at the entryway to the Last Homely House, and for a moment Erestor thought that 
Glorfindel also recognised him. But without another look, the blonde redirected his attention 
to the half-elf.

“You have had a long ride, Lord Glorfindel. You must be in need of rest.”

Elrond smiled affectionately at the Noldo, no doubt seeing images of the blonde’s heroic 
efforts playing in his mind’s eye. Visions of Glorfindel saving the life of his father that fateful 
day in the Encircling Mountains. Erestor made a face, sneering at the absurdity of it all. Now 
the lord of the valley is going to act like he owes this stranger his life - which in a way he 
does - and then what will the household come to? To nothing, just like fair Gondolin...

Erestor would have loved to have found in his research a reason for him to blame that on 
Glorfindel as well, but the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower was spotless in his 
demeanour. He had as far as the advisor could tell, never harmed a living thing that didn’t 
deserve harming. He was the epitome of all that was good and green in the world. So why was 
Erestor the only one who could see the foul ogre beneath the polished surface?

“I have prepared rooms for you in the west wing, overlooking the gardens. I hope they will be 
to your liking.”

“I’m sure they will, my lord.” Glorfindel bowed graciously.

“Ah, Erestor!” Elrond smiled. “You decided to join us after all. Is your headache better?”

“Lessened but not lost.” The dark advisor aimed a wry smile at the new arrival and folded his 
arms inside the wide velvet sleeves of his black robe.

A faint crease on the blond Noldo’s brow sent shivers of satisfaction up the counsellor’s neck, 
but the comment was completely lost on the half-elf.

“Glorfindel, this is my Chief Counsellor, master Erestor.” If Erestor wasn’t mistaken, Elrond 
had an air of pride at this introduction, but whether for him or for Glorfindel he could not tell.

“Mae govannen, Counsellor,” Glorfindel said with a slight incline of his head.

“Seneschal.”

Elrond still only beamed with joy. “Forgive my advisor’s lack of words, lord Glorfindel, I am 
afraid he’s been working much too hard lately.”

“Understandably, I’m sure.” The blonde was starting to appear uncomfortable, and Erestor 
took grim comfort in it.

/Go ahead, seneschal,/ he thought. /Make one wrong move and I’ll make your life so 
miserable you’ll wish you were still dead./

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Supper was a strained affair. No one knew how to act around the newcomer. The delighted 
advisor watched the fabled Balrog-slayer squirm in his seat as blushing servants brought him 
food and gave involuntary noises of admiration. Erestor couldn’t wait for the moment they all 
realized their hero was nothing but a low-class elf whose reputation had been exaggerated by 
the passage of time. Impostor! Traitor! Thief! Would that not be wonderful?

“Tell us about Gondolin!”

“Yes, tell us about the Balrog!”

“Oh, please, tell us!”

The twins were positively bouncing with questions, but that was to be expected at their age. 
These last months preparing for Glorfindel’s arrival, anyone they asked would tell them 
stories of the past, and now the object of their awe was sitting across the dinner table. They 
weren’t able to stay quiet for very long.

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you much, pyn-neth,” Glorfindel said regretfully. “My memories are 
a bit hazy still.”

/Nice dodge,/ Erestor thought, and gave the Noldo a sharp glance.

“Perhaps Erestor here can help,” Elrond offered. “He’s very well educated in the history of 
our people, and holds much knowledge of times past.”

“You flatter me, my lord,” Erestor said dryly. 

He had no desire whatsoever to speak of the city that had taken everything from him. He had 
never told anyone that he was there, that he saw it in all its glory once upon a time, in the first 
age of the elves. He wanted to forget. Elrond believed as Erestor had told him, the nearest 
thing to the truth, that he had been born in Doriath and fled its fall, seeking the refuge of 
Lindon after the War of Wrath. The exact truth was that he had travelled with the exiles of 
Gondolin, only he had left them behind. He had found a dead ranger in the woods and taken 
his horse, living as a rogue on the outskirts of the refugee camp by the sea and refusing to take 
any part in the kinslaying. Not until the dust had settled did he emerge with his new reputation 
and follow the high king to Lindon. It was not a complete lie, but it was not the truth either.

“Don’t you remember anything?” Elladan asked sweetly. “Not even a little bit?”

“Now, now, leave lord Glorfindel to his supper,” Celebrian rebuked her son, and that was the 
end of that, for which Erestor was grateful.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Erestor was amazed at himself. He had been able to keep his cool all evening, and retired 
gracefully for the night. Elrond had looked concerned for his odd behaviour, but Erestor had 
not felt inclined to explain himself. He always felt bad lying to his lord and closest friend, and 
there had never been a reason for Elrond to question his past. But if Glorfindel started 
remembering things... Elrond might never trust his advisor again. The Peredhel was not 
someone who liked being lied to, for whatever reason, which is something the twins had 
learned the hard way. And now this Noldo...

Noldorin. It was in his own blood as it was in Glorfindel’s, but he never thought of himself as 
a Noldo. He didn’t know much about his family, but he knew his father had been of Noldorin 
descent. Living in Rivendell for as long as he had, living with the Peredhil family, he was 
starting to think of himself as a half-elf as well. He was like an uncle to the little twins, who 
reached a bit over his waist these days. He had held them in his arms when they were but 
minutes old, and loved them like a father ever since. Remembering where he came from and 
what he used to be was not something he craved.

Trying to keep unwanted thoughts out of his mind, he started humming an old tune that had 
always managed to soothe him, and undressed by routine, gently folding away each garment 
and putting it in its rightful place. His chambers were dark save a few candles around the bed, 
and every single one of his possessions was neatly placed at exact positions around the room. 
Erestor looked around, straightened a framed painting on the wall that was slightly askew, and 
then was satisfied he could go to bed. He folded back the covers and climbed naked between 
the exquisite silken sheets.

Alone in his bed the Chief Advisor listened to the voices of ghosts from the past.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


“Erestor! Are you daydreaming again? Bring those over here.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Erestor stifled the yawn on his lips and kept dragging the litter of old and broken steel towards 
the forge. His frame was much too light for this type of hard labour, but the chief armourer 
had decided to make a “real elf” out of him. Still, he would go to bed aching all over, and 
never wake up one ounce heavier. It was a lost cause, and they all saw it eventually. The 
blacksmith got tired of the clumsy young elf, and thought he would be better off in King 
Turgon’s household. But the chief armourer knew that if Erestor dropped a plate of hot soup 
in the King’s lap, it would be on his head.

And so it was then that Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, said he would take the 
elfling off their hands.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The city of Gondolin was indeed as fair as the fables proclaim, especially in winter. The 
facades of the towers and pinnacles sparkled as white as the snow, gleaming frost clinging to 
the rough surface of pale stone. Erestor’s new home had immediately been to his liking, and 
the lighter chores suited him much better. He would do anything to please his new lord, who 
had so kindly taken him in despite his clumsiness and absentminded nature. Erestor was 
always one to dream of bigger things.

The young elfling was happy doing dishes - though he dropped quite a few - or helping 
prepare food, despite burning his fingers on the oven on several occasions. The she-elf in 
charge of the kitchen only laughed, and told him to go out and put his hand in the snow. But 
the humiliation was not as bad as working for the smithy had been. No one in the House of 
the Fountain would ever crudely joke about his narrow frame, or slap him so hard on the back 
he fell over and scraped his knees on the frozen ground. For the first time since losing his 
family, Erestor was beginning to feel happy again.

Whenever he ever got a free moment he would spend it in the library, sifting through the tall 
shelves crammed with books, taking a stack of interesting ones back to his tiny room and 
reading them from cover to cover. He had dragged lots of old blankets and pillows from the 
storage rooms into his ‘rat hole’ as he called it. Bundled up, it made for a cosy little reading 
corner beneath the small window. In the evenings the deepening twilight would change the 
frosted glass into a magical range of colours, and Erestor would glance at the strange pattern 
when turning a page, and privately note it looked different with every glance. The books were 
his major interest, and he vowed that he would read every single one in the city, if it took him 
a thousand years.

One cold night he was sitting in his corner as usual, draped in blankets, trying to soak up 
whatever warmth he could from the furnace pipes that ran across his ceiling. A half eaten 
sandwich lay crumbled on the floor by his bed, as he was hoping to see his furry little friend 
peek his nose out through the cracks in the wall. A brown rat with beady black eyes had been 
visiting him for several nights, and for some reason Erestor liked his company. Finally, as 
Erestor turned another page in his current book, the little critter scurried out from under the 
bed, went straight for the sandwich and started nibbling the dry bread.

“Sate your hunger, little friend,” the elf smiled, his gaze returning to paper and ink.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and the little rat swiftly disappeared with a large 
chunk of cheese hanging from its mouth. Erestor started, wondering who would come to see 
him at this time of night. He wasn’t excited about working right now, and asked himself if he 
should just pretend to be asleep. However, when there was a second knock he relented and bid 
the elf enter. As the tall stature of his lord ducked into the small room, Erestor sprang to his 
feet; embarrassed about the mess he called home.

“My Lord Ecthelion!” he gasped, trying to sweep the remains of his sandwich under the bed 
with his foot. “What are you doing here at this late hour?”

“By the Valar, child, is this how you live?” The elf lord wrinkled his nose, seemingly 
displeased.

“I am very grateful, my lord, that you are letting me stay here,” the elfling hurried to say. “I 
am sorry I have not kept it very clean...”

“Are those rat droppings?!” Ecthelion pointed to a pile of tiny black pellets on the floor.

“You must have scared him, sire. He does not usually leave waste in here...” Realizing what 
he had just said, Erestor blushed crimson and began shuffling his feet. “That is...he is my 
friend.”

His lord smiled at him. “The rat is your friend? Is that why you leave food on the floor?” The 
elfling nodded. “Good,” Ecthelion beamed, placing a hand on the smaller elf’s shoulder. “For 
a moment I thought that’s how they were feeding you. Are you sure you’re comfortable in 
here, Erestor?”

“I am well, my lord. I truly love it here. Everyone has been so nice to me. Especially you.”

He blushed again, not knowing what to do about the sudden feelings of affection for this tall, 
beautiful Noldo. Gazing up at the smiling face, Erestor thought it was the most beautiful face 
he had ever seen. Deep dark eyes twinkling with mirth, long hair the colour of midnight, 
undeniably masculine features, yet with a softness one rarely saw on male elves. Yes, the 
Lord of the Fountain was nothing short of remarkable, and young Erestor would have done 
anything for him in that moment.

“I am glad,” Ecthelion said. “Promise to tell me if you’re ever unhappy.”

“I will, my lord. I promise.”

“Very well, then. Now, you asked why I was here? I have something for you.” Erestor’s eyes 
widened with surprise. “A gift. A little bird whispered in my ear that you enjoy reading, and 
the elf in charge of the library seems to know better than anyone exactly -what- it is you like 
to read, and so I wanted you to have this.”

The elf lord handed over a large book, bound in blue leather with golden stars imprinted on 
the cover. Erestor accepted the heavy book into his arms, running his hands over the smooth 
surface. It looked new.

“It is a book of tales,” Ecthelion smiled. “Some true, some not. Some about Ilúvatar and the 
creation of the elves, others about common men with common lives. It has many different 
tales in it. Most elflings love the stories with swordfights and Balrogs the most.”

“I am hardly an elfling anymore,” Erestor giggled happily, sifting through the pages. “Is it 
really mine?” He looked up uncertainly. He had never before been given such a gift as this.

“It is,” the lord smiled, petting the elfling’s dark head.

That night Erestor slept soundly and with a rueful smile on his young face, arms wrapped 
around the most precious gift he had ever received.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


As the sun rose over Imladris, the Chief Counsellor awoke with loving feelings in his heart, 
warm memories still clinging to him from beyond dreams. In his deepest unconscious mind, 
he felt that the past had not been entirely composed of bad experiences; there had been good 
times also. But when his head cleared and he found himself fully awake, all such feelings fled. 
All that was left was a bitter taste in his mouth and the echo of a hated name - Glorfindel.

Groaning with contempt, the advisor swung his legs off the bed and regretfully got up. 
Sauntering over to the closet to get his morning robe, he happened to cast a glance at his 
bookshelf. There was one book that stood out from the rest. A book that had always been too 
big to fit any shelf. Erestor smiled, lovingly pulling at the worn leather. The colour had faded 
and the poor thing had been read so many times it was nearly falling to pieces. Still, it was as 
recognisable as it had been the day he received it. The blue storybook with the little gold stars 
on the cover. It was the one thing he had saved when they were forced to flee the city.

The normally rigid advisor felt tears prickle at the back of his eyes as he beheld the sorry state 
of his favourite possession. Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, he hugged the book to his 
chest and hurried back to his bed. Pulling the covers and pillows into a messy pile, he 
snuggled up to read his favourite story one more time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The days moved ever on. Erestor tried to stay away from the golden-haired warrior as much 
as possible, but they would occasionally meet in a hallway or out in the grounds. He tried to 
smile politely, but every time his throat contracted to the point where only a strangled noise 
escaped, and he felt fairly certain the Noldo thought he was uttering a greeting in some 
foreign language. For the most part he felt happier when he was shut in his study or in his 
room, far away from smiling blue eyes.

The advisor tried to keep himself busy during the days that seemed only to grow longer, but 
during the nights he still dreamed, and visions of the past assailed him. His feelings for 
Ecthelion that once burned so wildly had been dampened by millennia of skilled denial, but 
now they resurfaced with undeterred flame. Erestor could not look at Glorfindel without 
seeing Ecthelion beside him, as they were often seen in Gondolin. Best friends, the two would 
walk side by side through the city, laughing as they went, and they were a familiar sight to 
any elf that dwelt in the lower levels of the fair city. As different as night and day, yet so 
much the same, people said.

Trying desperately to think of something else, Erestor fled into books of old tales, but every 
now and then there was a tale he knew only too well, and his enjoyment was ruined. These 
days, the tales of Gondolin and its fall were in every history book.

Taking a break from his reading, Erestor stood up and walked across the bare floor of his 
study, rubbing his eyes wearily. The air felt stuffy and his robes felt warm, so by instinct he 
stepped over to the window and threw it wide open, breathing in large gulps of fresh air. The 
spring sunlight shone down on his face, and for the first time in days he felt as though his 
head was clearing. But an annoying noise cluttered his well-organized mind once more. 
Looking down he saw Glorfindel, in nothing but leggings and a thin shirt, sparring with some 
of the younger warriors. What were they doing so far from the training grounds?

Glorfindel laughed loudly, jumping behind trees and ducking behind sculptures, making the 
sparring as difficult as he could for the youngsters. They were out of breath while he hardly 
seemed to have broken a sweat. He was in surprisingly good shape for someone who had been 
dead for almost four thousand years, Erestor thought. As the Noldo leapt out from behind a 
bush, he jokingly kicked a young elf right in his backside, then ran away. The other 
youngsters laughed at the first one, but were soon at the receiving end of the seneschal’s 
mischief themselves. Erestor found himself smiling at the display, and gave himself a hard 
mental slap. It was neither funny nor endearing. Glorfindel was a selfish bastard who made 
fun of others, and that had hardly changed.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Never paying much attention to the art of warfare, Erestor had always been left out as a young 
elf. He was smaller, thinner, and preferred the company of books and animals. For that reason 
he never had many friends growing up, and slowly turned into a loner, an invisible thing 
others chose to ignore. Always unhappy, Erestor looked to books to take him away from this 
world and show him another. No one gave him much notice, and he didn’t really care. The 
only elf he wanted to notice him was Ecthelion, and the elf lord was good at that. He seemed 
to sense things in the elfling, and Erestor could not have been more pleased.

One year, in the warmer season, Erestor had found that a secret collection of books were 
being introduced to the library. Tired of carrying books back and forth, the young elf decided 
to make the library his new home. He spent hours there every day, looking at maps, studying 
family trees and reading every story, tale and fable he could find. That was where his lord 
found him one afternoon, as the sun was about to set.

“Erestor, my friend, so this is where you’ve been all day. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Forgive me!” Erestor leapt from the floor where he sat, not prepared for the stiffness in his 
knees, and tried to stand up straight. “Have I failed you, my lord?”

“No, Erestor, don’t be silly.” The Lord of the House of the Fountain laid a hand on the dark 
head, smiling warmly at Erestor in a way that made his stomach flutter. “You had no chores 
today, I was merely wondering what happened to you. The chamberlain said he saw you in 
here. Did you read all these?” He gestured to a stack of books that wobbled precariously in 
front of a nearly empty shelf.

“Aye, my lord. I do enjoy reading.” Erestor looked at the floor, for he could not think of 
another place to aim his eyes.

“I know you do, pen-neth. Quill before sword, eh?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He felt a blush creep over his cheeks.

“Don’t be ashamed, Erestor. There is nothing wrong with that. Those who live to wield 
swords, often die with them in hand. Do you understand?”

“Aye, my lord.” Erestor beamed with pride as the Noldo’s arm slipped over his shoulders and 
ushered him out of the library.

“Have you ever wielded a bow, Erestor?” The young elf looked up, then shook his head. 
“Well, then, it’s about time you learned.”

Erestor still remembered it vividly, how he had ridden out into the green valley with his lord, 
the way the air smelled, the feel of the horse between his legs. He remembered Ecthelion’s 
arms around him, as the Noldo was showing him how to cock an arrow properly. He 
remembered how he blushed, feeling warm breath ghost against his cheek.

“Eyes on the mark, Erestor.”

Ecthelion was the only elf he knew who didn’t shout his name. The Lord of the Fountain 
never raised his voice. The tall, beautiful elf was always kind to him, and from that day 
Erestor found that the lord consumed more and more of his thoughts until he utterly ruled his 
waking mind. He would do anything to receive more attention from his lord, and receive he 
did. Ecthelion doted upon him, gave him his own bow, a bigger room and endless hours of 
conversation and instruction. He taught Erestor about weapons and riding and strategy, and 
the young elf was rapt with attention, soaking up the new knowledge like a rag in hot water. 

One needed not be interested in warfare to follow every lesson with undivided concentration. 
Erestor couldn’t say when he first realized he was in love with the distinguished elf. It crept 
on slowly, like leaves changing colour at the end of the year. His love had been childlike and 
green once, but now it burned a fiery red without him even remembering passing through 
copper and gold. He soon found himself following his master like a dog, hoping to be petted 
and cuddled and taken to bed at night. Permanently attaching himself to his lord’s side, he 
made a pledge to serve him with perfect devotion. Ecthelion would laugh at him sometimes.

“Such a sweet child, Erestor.”

Child. That single word, albeit spoken affectionately, now hurt like a red-hot dagger straight 
in the heart. How could his beloved lord think him a child? He was past his majority now, and 
should be treated as an adult, an equal. But his small frame and compulsive shyness played 
tricks on any who observed him. Perhaps the chief armourer was right. Perhaps he did need to 
be turned into a “real elf”. With all the training Ecthelion had personally given him, he 
thought he would get some respect from the other elves, but apparently he had been mistaken. 
This time however, he would not let it pass.

Mind set, he signed up for warrior’s training, so he could join the squires. Some of the elder 
elves chuckled behind his back, but Erestor could not be discouraged. He was going to prove 
himself if it cost him an arm and a leg. However, all that training meant he had to spend a lot 
of time away from his lord, and that did not sit well at all. Out on patrol training, in the 
pouring rain, he would envision Ecthelion’s face, imagine his dark silken locks sliding 
between his fingers, just to keep himself going. He didn’t enjoy one moment with the guards, 
but he did it so that his lord would see him for what he was, a grown, mature elf, capable of so 
much more than doing dishes and running errands. If that meant riding in the rain for three 
days, he would do it.

Back inside the walls of Gondolin, he had immediately run to find his lord, hoping to be 
looked upon in a different light. Surely now he would be accepted. The House of the Fountain 
was quiet, and the door to his lord’s study was ajar. Erestor heard voices, and slowed his 
steps. He didn’t want to interrupt a meeting. That was something an impatient child would do. 
But the curious elfling inside him pulled him closer to the door and made him peek inside.

“Aiya, Glorfindel, you have been away too long,” Ecthelion said, smiling.

“I am here now, am I not?”

Erestor didn’t know Glorfindel very well. The elf had never bothered with Erestor, but nor 
had he been one of the elves to laugh behind his back. All he really knew about the elf lord 
was that he was Ecthelion’s closest friend. A broad shouldered warrior with a straight brow 
and long golden hair down his muscled back. An elf most youngsters would admire and aspire 
to be like. Erestor wondered if that was what it took to be accepted. Strong arms and blond 
hair...

“Have you adopted any more orphans while I was away?” Glorfindel teased as he leaned 
against the cluttered desk.

“If you are referring to Erestor he is quite grown up.” There! At last! He had his recognition. 
Erestor nearly wept with joy. “He doesn’t need me any more. He spends all his time with the 
warriors these days. Never thought that would happen. He was always more interested in 
reading than in fighting.”

“So...does this mean I get to have you all to myself now? No little tail following you around?”

Ecthelion chuckled and stepped closer to the blonde. “I am all yours, my friend.”

Erestor watched in horror as the two lords wrapped their arms around each other and joined in 
a kiss so needy it would have popped King Turgon’s eyes out. The small elf in the doorway 
had trouble finding his breath, not sure if he should be aroused or repulsed by the scene 
unfolding before him. Those hands...those strong warrior’s hands were touching his lord, 
touching him the way Erestor had dreamed to touch him, and it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. 
Ecthelion was supposed to be his!

Eyes rapidly filling with tears, the wet elfling ran back out into the rain.


------------------------

Chapter 2 - Hostility

Weather grew warmer in the sheltered valley. Trees blossomed and birds built nests within 
their crowns. Weeks passed, and things calmed a fraction. Glorfindel got into his routine as 
the new seneschal, Elrond lost his constant smirk and got his frown back, and the twins didn’t 
bounce quite as much. However, they still followed the Noldo everywhere, asking a myriad of 
questions. “What are you doing?”, “what’s that?”, and “are you remembering the Balrog yet?” 
Strangely enough, the handsome blonde was not as annoyed as Erestor would have been in 
the same situation. He laughed happily and answered as many questions as he could while 
grooming his horse. But every time the Noldo smiled, Erestor felt a stabbing pain in his gut.

Immersing himself in his personal library, Erestor avoided running into the new seneschal as 
much as possible. It meant withdrawing from the family as well, as Glorfindel had quickly 
become everyone’s favourite, but that was a sacrifice he could live with. Temporarily at least. 
Anything to be as far away as possible from that...that...

That elf, with the dirty hands.

More weeks passed, and Elrond started giving him worried looks. Erestor said it was nothing 
and went on his way. To get away from the glances and insinuations, the advisor often took a 
favourite book and settled in the garden, reading below a whispering tree. He did so this day. 
It was early summer, and the air was warm. For once he was not wearing his dark velvet robe, 
but a light tunic that opened at the chest. Sitting barefoot on the soft ground, he wiggled his 
toes in the grass, reading some of his favourite poetry and feeling at peace for the first time in 
a long while. But this time he was not left alone.

“Good morning.”

“Lord Seneschal.” Erestor let out a frustrated breath, but ignored the blonde and hoped he 
would leave.

“May I sit down?”

“It is your garden as much as mine.” Erestor hated having to invite the Noldo, but if he said 
‘No, go away’, then Elrond would surely shower him with concerns later.

“I can see this tree from my window,” Glorfindel mused. “You sit under it often.” The blond 
elf didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive, so Erestor decided to humour him for now.

“I come here for privacy,” he said bluntly.

“I apologise if I have disturbed you. I wanted to keep you company.”

This made the counsellor suspicious. “Why? What need is there for a warrior to consort with a 
scholar?”

Glorfindel shrugged, but kept that disarming smile firmly planted on his face. “I’d like to 
think we’re not merely divided into groups of brutes and intellectuals. We are all still elves, 
are we not? And as far as I know, you are the oldest elf in Imladris. We may have something 
in common.”

“And what would that be? A few years in the First Age where we coexisted in different parts 
of Arda? That is hardly a basis upon which to build a friendship.” Erestor returned to his book 
and tried to ignore the elf lord, but Glorfindel was not so easily deterred.

“What is a basis then, counsellor, upon which to build a friendship? Perhaps you would enjoy 
a bit of sword fighting if only you tried it. Perhaps I like books as well, only you never asked 
me if I did. Perhaps we would share many interests, if only we spoke. So why are you not 
speaking with me?”

Growing more annoyed by the minute, the counsellor countered. “Perhaps it is you who do 
not speak with me. Perhaps we have nothing in common whatsoever and it would be a futile 
cause. Perhaps I simply don’t like you. So why don’t you leave me alone?” 

This time, when he returned his gaze to the book, his interest could not be drawn again. After 
a few minutes of sitting in silence, the Noldo rose and walked away. Erestor had succeeded in 
repelling the irritating elf. So why did he feel like he had just eaten a rotten egg? Angrily 
tossing the book aside, he buried his face in shaking hands. It felt awful, being cruel to 
someone who had yet to do something unforgivable in his new life. Glorfindel was overly 
nice to everyone, no doubt compensating for a faulty personality, and Erestor had to force 
himself to focus on his hatred, will forward memories of what the Noldo had done to him so 
long ago, in another life. This was vengeance!

But it still tasted like bile at the back of his throat.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

There was no way he would be able to sleep. Tonight, the thought of that elf sleeping in the 
same house bothered him as it had never before. Everybody adored Glorfindel, when there 
was really nothing special about him. Certainly, he was more handsome than most others, tall 
and strong, with an air of invincibility. But Erestor remembered him as he was in Gondolin. 
Haughty and self-absorbed. Taking what he could get even if it wasn’t his to take. Conceited. 
Crude. Superior.

As a young elf, Erestor had found him intimidating, but now he seemed merely pathetic. He 
couldn’t fool the advisor anymore. Even after thousands of years, Erestor’s memory was 
intact.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


There just weren’t enough books in Gondolin to let Erestor escape reality. When every page 
in every book on every shelf had been thoroughly read and reread, the young elf didn’t know 
what to do with himself anymore. Nothing satisfied him like Ecthelion’s company, and the 
lord still had the ability to melt his heart with a smile, but now that he had turned into a 
“grown elf” in his lord’s eyes there was not room for him anymore. He hadn’t realized it at 
the time, but staying a child was what had ensured him his lord’s affection. And now he 
couldn’t go back.

With heavy steps he wandered the city, aimlessly probing his environment and hoping to find 
an answer leaping out from behind a bush. Nowhere did he encounter such an apparition. 
Walking past the stables on his way home, he stopped to pet the horses that were still outside 
in the paddock. He wished deeply for his own horse, but was too shy to tell Ecthelion. He had 
hoped he would get one for his begetting day when he turned fifty, but it had been a rough 
year and the horses were few. That still didn’t stop Erestor from spending time at the stables. 
There was a large white horse that would always come up to him and nuzzle his hands. This 
evening was no different, and Erestor found some sweetmeats in his pocket, which he shared 
with the friendly stallion.

“Nice horse,” he crooned, stroking the gentle giant’s face. “Good horse.” The stallion gave an 
appreciative snort, and accepted the little sweet from the young elf’s hand.

“What are you doing?” someone yelled. “Don’t feed him that!”

Glorfindel was beside him in the blink of an eye, grabbing his arm and yanking it away, as if 
Erestor were a disobedient elfling in need of discipline, and the sugary treats fell to the 
ground.

“What are you doing feeding Asfaloth sweets? He’s a horse; he eats grass. Are you trying to 
ruin his teeth?”

“No, my lord,” Erestor said defiantly, and pulled his arm free. 

There was a long moment of silence, where Glorfindel stared at Erestor and Erestor stared at 
the ground. In the meantime Asfaloth saw fit to stretch his head through the fence and try to 
fish up the treats by means of his agile lips, but Glorfindel kicked them into the dust before 
the horse could reach them. The beast snorted at its master and turned its tail end to him. But 
the blonde only stared at Erestor.

“Don’t let it happen again, all right?” he said, and turned his back.

Erestor never had many friends in Gondolin, and now he was afraid to go to the stables again. 
Desperate and lonely, he sought the company of his lord.

He found Ecthelion pacing in his study, book in hand, chewing on an apple and humming an 
old song. Erestor stopped in the doorway and for a few precious moments pending discovery, 
he quietly admired the elf who had stolen his heart. Only seconds later, dark eyes looked up 
and crinkled endearingly at the corners. Looking as if he had been caught in the act, the elf 
lord quickly chewed and swallowed the fruit still in his mouth before addressing the 
youngster.

“Erestor,” he smiled. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long, my lord. Am I disturbing you?”

“You could never disturb me, child. Come here.”

Child. Erestor thought he could never be happy hearing that, but he was. Overwhelmed with 
emotion, he ran over to his lord and slung his arms around his waist, hugging him close. 
Ecthelion flinched, but wrapped his arms around the smaller elf nonetheless.

“My dear child, is something wrong?”

“No, my lord,” Erestor sniffled, tears in his voice. “I only wanted to see you.” In his mind, 
where no one could hear him, he added; “I love you”.

To his very delight, Ecthelion held him - and kept holding him - until all his worries melted 
away. From that day, Erestor took every opportunity to find his lord alone, hoping to be held 
again. With every look exchanged, every touch, he felt closer to the tall elf. Weeks passed, 
and Erestor made sure never to leave his lord alone when Glorfindel was around. The golden 
haired Noldo was well loved by all, and could have had his pick of any number of willing 
elves. He was not going to get his hands on Ecthelion.

Not while Erestor still breathed.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


“Erestor, you are behaving like a child!” Elrond did not often lose his temper, but he had been 
under severe pressure lately, and was not happy to learn that his two most trusted friends were 
not on speaking terms. “I demand you apologise to Glorfindel.”

“Apologise?” The counsellor didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry, but he definitely 
was not going to apologise.

“Yes, Erestor. I will not tolerate this kind of juvenile behaviour from my Chief Advisor. You 
offended our seneschal, now I am imploring you to apologise.”

“Offended? I only said I didn’t like him, how is that offensive? I could have called him any 
variety of unpleasant names or listed several of his loathsome attributes, but I restrained 
myself and phrased my comment with great consideration for his pride. It was not my 
intention to wound, only to deflect.”

Elrond sighed, sinking into his chair. “Spoken like a true diplomat,” he said with a bitter 
undertone in his voice. “If I didn’t know you better I would say you are jealous.” Erestor was 
about to make a loud protest, but Elrond hushed him. “Since this is not the case, my concern 
is why. Why don’t you like him? You have been nothing but venomous since the day he 
arrived, and it’s beginning to bother the entire household, Glorfindel most of all. He does not 
know what he has done to deserve your anger. If you so adamantly refuse to apologise, I 
cannot make you, but I would beg of you to explain, if not to me then to him, why it is you 
cannot be in the same room. Why you growl under your breath when he greets you.”

“And if I refuse this as well?”

The half-elf took a deep breath and folded his hands on the desk. “Then I would have to 
seriously consider finding Imladris another Chief Counsellor.”

Erestor swallowed hard, more hurt than frightened. He hardly believed Elrond was about to 
dismiss him, but the half-elf was clearly trying to get through to his stubborn advisor the best 
way he knew how. Erestor stood from his chair without looking at his lord, turning his back as 
he spoke.

“Then I suppose I better do as you ask.” His voice trembled and his eyes stung with unshed 
tears. “I shall find Lord Glorfindel, and apologise.” He emphasized the last word with an 
unmistakeable growl and left the room with angry steps, long maroon robes sweeping behind 
him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Erestor needed but to ask the nearest elf to find out where the Noldo was. Everyone kept track 
of him, it would appear. Making his way to the stables, the advisor desperately tried to think 
of what to say. When faced with the blonde, he was certain nothing but accusations and 
insults would leave his lips. There was something about Glorfindel that made him feel like a 
child again, that made him want to shrink and crawl into a corner, instinctively assuming 
defensive mode. It was ridiculous, as he now was much older than the Noldo and had far more 
knowledge and experience than the blonde would ever have. So why was he so intimidated? 
He had no lover to lose this time.

Approaching the stable doors, he peeked inside the gloom, and indeed he saw there a golden 
shape. He did not want to go any further, but his legs compelled him. He was drawn to the 
golden light as a moth to a flame, and as he came closer he lost all sense of speech. An open 
hatch in the roof let the sunlight wash down on the elf that stood before his majestic horse, 
petting its face and crooning sweet words of ancient Noldorin in its ears. A rueful smile was 
on his lips, his eyes glittering with affection for the beast, and suddenly Erestor found himself 
weak at the knees. A nervous elfling all over again.

“Erestor?” The voice shook him out of his trance, and he tried to formulate an answer, but 
couldn’t quite manage it. “What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”

“Fine.” The advisor cleared his throat. “I came to speak with you.”

“Ah.” He smiled, but there was no mirth in his eyes. “So now you are speaking with me?” 

He continued stroking the white horse across the forehead, occasionally scratching behind a 
furry ear, making the beast grunt with pleasure. Erestor’s gaze followed the Noldo’s hand so 
intently he didn’t realize when Glorfindel shifted his attention towards him.

“What was it you wanted to say?”

“Oh, I... I wanted to apologise. For being so blunt with you the other day. I did not mean to 
offend you, my lord.”

“You have not offended me, master Erestor. You puzzle me, that is all.”

Erestor flinched. “You were not offended?”

“No. Certainly I felt rejected - I was only trying to be friendly - but I must have caught you at 
a bad time. There is not an elf in Imladris who does not speak of you with respect and love, 
and I was merely hoping to see what they see, but so far I have not even seen you smile. 
Smirk, but not smile. Makes me wonder.” He paused. “Why? What made you think you had 
offended me?”

Erestor sighed in exasperation. “Elrond told me so. He said that if I didn’t apologise 
immediately he would relieve me of my duties.” He shot an accusing look at the Noldo, and it 
hit straight to the heart.

“Valar...Erestor, I am sorry.” Glorfindel looked guilty. “Lord Elrond and I were talking last 
night, I... I suppose I had a bit too much wine. My mouth sometimes gets a mind of its own 
when I drink.”

“I know.” Erestor had not meant to utter that comment, and it seemed to puzzle the Noldo 
even more, but the counsellor pretended it had never been spoken. “Perhaps you should stay 
away from the wine a bit longer. Technically you’re a newborn still.”

Glorfindel chuckled, and Erestor hadn’t thought it possible, but the sound was both a thrill to 
his ears and a chill down his spine. The blonde took no notice of the turmoil going on inside 
the advisor, but returned to his cheerful mood, acting as if all had been forgiven and forgotten.

“Do you have a horse, counsellor?” he asked, petting the white stallion.

“No. I hardly travel enough to warrant the keeping of a beast. When I need to, I sometimes 
borrow that one.” He pointed to a brown mare at the far end of the stable.

“She looks old.”

“As I said. I haven’t travelled in a while.”

“I could not be without a horse, even if I was unable to ride,” Glorfindel smiled, gazing 
adoringly at his equine friend. “I thought I could never again find a horse such as the one I 
had in Gondolin, but Asfaloth here more than adequately takes his place.”

“Asfaloth? You named him Asfaloth?”

Glorfindel giggled, and again the counsellor found himself floored by emotion. Why was the 
warrior’s laughter doing this to him?

“I name all my horses Asfaloth.” He looked at Erestor with a gleam in his eyes. “I am terrible 
at remembering names.”

Pulling a small sachet from his pocket, the blonde poured a handful of sweets into his palm 
and held it out to the horse. Asfaloth quickly picked them up, careful not to bite his master, 
and started chewing with a delightful crunching noise. Erestor only stared, not even realizing 
his eyes were filling with tears.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“Giving him a little treat,” the Noldo smiled. “I may be his master, but I want him to like me 
as well. No one gives him treats but me.” 

Glorfindel was consumed with Asfaloth, and didn’t notice the advisor discretely wiping a 
stray tear from his face. Erestor could not name his emotions, but they were taking his control 
away. For a moment he thought the best thing to do would be to turn and walk away, but 
apparently discussions had not yet ended.

“If you’re not still angry with me for some elusive reason,” Glorfindel began, still not looking 
up, “I would like very much to have a proper conversation with you.”

“Fine.” Erestor would have agreed to anything, only so that he could get out of there.

“Wonderful!” Glorfindel beamed at him, his eyes brighter than ever.

“How do you do that?” Erestor heard himself ask. “How do you forgive and forget in the time 
it takes your heart to beat? How do you go back to being happy again, just like that?”

Glorfindel looked at him with an indecipherable expression. He almost looked as though he 
was trying to read Erestor’s mind, his gaze completely focused on the advisor. To the 
counsellor’s horror, he stepped away from the horse and moved closer, some form of distant 
sadness creeping into his eyes. Wrapping his arm around a wooden stanchion, Glorfindel 
stopped, facing the slightly shorter elf.

“How could I not? Why dwell on the negative side of everything? I have never been able to 
hold a grudge or stay angry for very long. I prefer to be happy and enjoy life. For as long as it 
lasts,” he added with a smile. But his expression grew sombre, and he looked at the advisor 
with so much sympathy Erestor could not possibly have felt like more of a child. “Why are 
you so sad, Erestor? What happened to you?”

He was not able to disguise the shock this statement brought him, but he denied it 
nonetheless.

“What do you mean? Nothing happened to me.”

A warm hand descended onto his shoulder, and Glorfindel smiled, gaze still fixed on him.

“I know you’re not ready to open up to me yet, but I hope you will some day. I want you to 
know you can trust me. I will tell Elrond that all is well between us, and we’ll go from there. 
Does that sound fair?” Erestor nodded, unable to speak for fear of sounding like a trampled 
frog. Another wide grin graced the Noldo’s features. “Great! We will speak later, then?” 
Erestor nodded and the blonde took one last look at him before leaving him alone with the 
horses.

He stayed there - he couldn’t tell how long - until the sun vanished behind the trees and left 
the stable in shadows. Asfaloth snorted loudly to get his attention, and Erestor finally got his 
legs working. He managed to approach the stallion that so desperately sought his attention, 
and raised a hand to pet him. Yet in mid-air his hand hovered. He couldn’t tell how or why, 
but he wasn’t able to touch the beast. Something held him back.

“Asfaloth...”

Withdrawing his hand, the advisor gave the stallion an apologetic look before fleeing the dark 
building.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

His chamber wasn’t any darker than usual, but it felt to Erestor like it was darker than death. 
He stared at it for so long he began to see creatures moving in the corners of the room. He 
began to imagine sounds from under his bed. Hissing noises. Distant screams. Memories he 
had tried to suppress for millennia were overwhelming him with their clarity, and suddenly he 
saw things he had forgotten he had ever witnessed. The fear made him tremble under the 
covers of his bed, as real as it had been all those centuries ago.

Erestor closed his eyes tightly and willed the visions to go away, but they did not. The smell 
of singed flesh reached his nostrils, and he nearly gagged. That was the last straw. Leaving his 
bed with desperate urgency, the advisor ran for the balcony doors and threw them open, 
nearly flinging himself over the railing in his hurry to get out. Breathing in sobs, he gazed up 
at the crescent moon, holding onto the sight of it lest his memories should drown him.

“Please...” he whimpered, collapsing in a heap on the floor.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Dreams assailed him. Horrible dreams. Beasts roaring, women screaming, bodies burning. He 
ran and ran, but there was no escape. His feet sank in the snow. The fiery creature that chased 
him emanated so much heat he didn’t need to turn around to know that it was there. And then 
it all disappeared in a flash of gold. He was alone on the cold hard ground. His head ached, 
and his body felt as though it were made of lead.

“Erestor?” a voice called his name. “Erestor, wake up.”

Forcing his eyelids open, he saw the fuzzy shape of a face he knew well. He knew every line, 
every curve of the finely sculpted features. And he knew that smile.

“Have you been lying out here all night?” the smile said. “You’re barely clothed, it must have 
been freezing!”

Perhaps all was not lost after all. The monster had not killed him.

“You came back...” he tried to tell his saviour, but his voice crackled. “You came back...”

The face filled with concern, and soon Erestor felt himself elevated by strong arms. “It’s all 
right, Erestor,” the deep voice crooned. “I have you.” Drawn to the warmth and comfort, the 
counsellor leaned in to his rescuer and melted in his arms. He was safe.


------------------------

Chapter 3 - Mystery

It snowed heavily that winter, which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant great effort to 
go anywhere, so most elves stayed inside. It also meant long hours in front of the fire with 
Ecthelion, playing board games or simply having tea and talking, which was something 
Erestor appreciated like no one else. The elf lord’s work was made so much more difficult this 
time of the year, ice blocking the pipes throughout the city, but he did his best to make sure 
there was always a steady supply of water. Erestor helped whenever he could, not that he had 
an honest interest, but rather that he didn’t want Ecthelion asking anyone else.

But he was nervous. That blasted blonde was also shut inside the walls of Gondolin, the snow 
making it useless to patrol. There wasn’t an orc on Arda that would fight its way through 
miles of deep snow simply to be shot by an archer the second he got in sight. Therefore all the 
warriors were safe in their homes, and the city left solely to the guard of the eagles. Erestor 
had no idea where Glorfindel was, and it kept him on edge. He dared not turn his back on 
Ecthelion.

One day, he was standing beside his lord at the great window in his study, watching the snow 
heavily drape across the houses of the lower level of the city. The sky seemed to possess an 
endless supply of fluffy white flakes, and the two elves watched them swirl to the ground with 
amusement.

“I wonder if this will ever end,” Ecthelion said with an ironic smile, sipping his tea.

“Spring will be on time. It always is. This weather only means we’ll have a warm summer 
with little rain.”

“You are right, of course. My Erestor is always right.” Ecthelion grinned. “You are so 
clever,” he said, putting an arm around the younger elf. “I’m very lucky to have you.”

Never able to handle compliments well, Erestor squirmed and snickered uncomfortably. “You 
flatter me, my lord.”

“I speak the truth.” He turned the young elf to face him. “You are very precious to me, 
Erestor. I mean it.” Ecthelion lovingly kissed the smooth forehead, petting the dark hair of his 
prodigy.

Erestor closed his eyes, focusing on the touch of those soft lips on his skin. His arms 
automatically reached out, encompassing the slim waist of the elf lord. The hands in his hair 
felt wonderful, and he pressed into their warmth, lifting his head in the process. When he 
looked up he was gazing into the dark eyes of his beloved, and there was nothing that could 
have stopped him then. An animal urge gripped him, made him grab the elf and kiss him hard 
on the mouth, pushing his whole body against him and releasing that passion that had been 
hidden in the dark corners of his heart for so many years. Ecthelion gasped, but the young elf 
did not relent. Holding onto raven tresses, Erestor forced their lips to stay together.

“How did I know this was going to happen?” a voice muttered in the doorway, and Erestor 
finally let go, shocked.

“Glorfindel! It’s not what you think!”

Within a second he was alone in the room. The blonde had left and Ecthelion had chased after 
him. The young elf stood numb, trembling by the window, wondering what on earth had 
possessed him to do such a thing. It was now perfectly clear whom the elf lord preferred, and 
the answer was not appealing. 

A minute later he grew aware of a presence in the room, and turned to see his lord standing 
there with a stern expression on his face. His trembling worsened, and he tried to look as 
small as possible as Ecthelion approached. This was going to be bad, he knew it. This was 
where he got the worst scolding of his life, was yelled at and punished like the rebellious 
elfling he was. His lord walked up to him with brisk steps, and Erestor braced himself for 
what was to come. Hands latched onto his shoulders and held him firmly in place.

“Why did you do that?” Ecthelion demanded. “Why did you kiss me like that?”

“Because I love you,” he answered, his eyes swimming with tears.

“Erestor...” The voice was soft now, full of sympathy. “I love you too, you know that. You 
are like a son to me.”

Shocked, Erestor shook his head. “No...”

“Yes, Erestor. Son.”

“I am not your son!” he shouted, wringing himself free. “Not!”

“Erestor, calm yourself!” The elf lord looked completely bewildered, and placed futile efforts 
into once more taking hold of the younger elf.

“Don’t!” Erestor cried, pulling away from unwelcome hands. “I am an adult, and you are not 
my father! I have never thought of you as a father! Never!”

“Erestor, please...”

“Please, what?! Am I supposed to let it go, sit back and accept that you’ll never think of me as 
anything but a child, is that it?” He angrily paced the room, tears flowing freely down his 
face. “I will not! I cannot sit back and let that...that bastard have you! What did he ever do to 
deserve your love? I bet my life; nothing! Like everyone else you only see his beauty and fail 
to notice what lies rotting beneath. He is vermin!”

“Erestor! That is enough! I will not have you speak of Glorfindel in that manner. He is my 
friend.”

“Aaaah,” Erestor exclaimed, “I see. He’s your ‘friend’. How lovely.”

“Stop that!” Ecthelion was getting really upset, Erestor could tell. There was anger in his 
eyes, pure anger, which is something the younger elf had never seen in him before, but 
Erestor was not about to back down. “I mean it, Erestor. Stop it. Right now.”

“Make me.”

The two dark haired elves stared at each other for long moments, neither of them about to 
give in. Finally, the elder took a chance and stepped closer.

“Erestor, listen to me. I love you. I don’t want to argue. What you’re feeling is not...it’s not 
love, Erestor. At your age it is common to become infatuated with someone close to you, it 
doesn’t mean that...”

“Be quiet! Don’t tell me how I feel! I know my own heart! I have loved you...since the 
moment I met you, and I will always love you. It’s not going away. This is not an infatuation! 
I only want to be with you.”

“It’s not going to happen, Erestor. I am sorry, but it’s not.”

“But if you just...”

“No, Erestor.”

Now it was his turn to be angry. The elf lord would not even listen to him! What could he say 
or do to change his mind? Ecthelion had an adamant expression, sternly paternal, which was 
probably the effect he desired, and it made a mockery of their relationship. At last, Erestor 
boiled over.

“It’s because of him, isn’t it! That blond imbecile!”

“I warned you...”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Erestor stepped forward, shoving the lord hard in the 
chest. “Go ahead and punish me ‘father’! Strike me!” Again, he pushed the older elf.

“Erestor...”

“Go on! Strike me, right in the face! If it’s him you love, if it’s him you truly want, then kill 
me now and have it over with!”

But the lord only stood there, a sad, sympathetic look in his eyes, his arms idle at either side. 
He would never hurt his little elfling, and Erestor knew that. He would rather die than strike 
an elfling, noble creature that he was. It made Erestor so unbelievable angry, so frustrated, so 
enraged, that he didn’t know what to do with himself. In the end, wrath got the better of him, 
and his fist effectively collided with the Noldo’s face. There was a loud smacking noise, and 
the crunch of cartilage beneath his knuckles. Then came the horrific realisation of what he had 
done.

Ecthelion stood doubled over, clutching his face, two lonely drops of blood landing on the 
grey stone floor. Erestor stared wide-eyed at the scene of his making, waiting in terror for the 
retribution. But it never came. What happened next was worse. The elder elf straightened, 
looking down at his red stained hand, a tiny trickle of blood running from his nose. He looked 
at Erestor with empty eyes, the expression on his face unreadable, and said with a hollow 
voice,

“I think you should leave.”

And Erestor did, without question or hesitation. He didn’t run, only turned and walked away. 
Out of the room, out of the building and into the snow. The roads had been cleared that 
morning, but the white quilt still reached his knees. He waded through it numbly, his hand 
pounding with pain from the impact, thinking he might go spend the night in the hayloft 
above the stables. He would certainly be undisturbed there. He would certainly also be cold 
and miserable, which was naught less than what he deserved.

Knowing his lord would never love him was too much for his heart to bear. If only it wasn’t 
for Glorfindel! How could he go on living his wretched little life without someone loving him 
and caring about him? He was worthless. Meaningless. His life was meaningless. He might as 
well lie down in the snow and die.

As if on cue, he tripped on something he could not see, and fell face first into the cold. He lay 
there, shaking from his own sobs, contemplating the possibility of not getting up again. But 
that choice had already been made for him. Someone put their arms around him and pulled 
him up.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Slowly coming to his senses, Erestor began to realize it was morning. Birds were chirping 
outside his window, and the scent of summer wildflowers was floating on the air. Blinking to 
clear his vision, he saw that the balcony doors were open, and someone was sitting in a chair 
just inside. Shocked, Erestor flew up against the headboard, pulling the covers tight over 
himself, not knowing if he had remembered to put on his nightshirt before going to bed. The 
elf in the chair started, and looked at him with concern.

“So, you are finally awake. How do you fare?” Glorfindel asked.

“What are you doing in my room?” Erestor growled. “This is my private chamber, and you 
don’t come in here uninvited, is that understood?”

The warrior took a deep breath, apparently collecting himself. He stood and walked over to 
the bed, sitting down at its edge to the advisor’s distress.

“I was worried about you,” he said. “I found you on the balcony, cold as ice. You must have 
been there all night. You were delirious. Do you not remember?”

Erestor took a moment to think. It was certainly possible, for he remembered not being able to 
sleep. And he vaguely remembered his dream. He had been rescued, just like...just like when? 
His memories suddenly eluded him, surprising, since they had been so vivid last night. 
Something was not right, something was upside down inside him, and the advisor felt helpless 
when faced with his own imperfections. Rubbing his eyes wearily, he let the covers slip, 
happy to see that he was not naked after all.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I have been sleeping poorly these past weeks.”

“Have you walked in your sleep before?”

“No. And I don’t think I was this time either. I was awake when I left my room. I don’t know 
why I would suddenly fall asleep outside.”

“Perhaps I was wrong not to tell Elrond immediately. He might know if there’s something...”

“No! Don’t tell him. I’m fine.” Erestor would not be able to handle another debate with the 
half-elf right now. He only wanted peace. For things to go back to the way they had been 
before this infuriating Noldo came here. “Please, just leave. I am fine.”

“Very well. Perhaps I should go back to my room.” Erestor nearly jerked with surprise when 
Glorfindel grabbed his wrist. “You seem to be warming up. Lucky I found you, eh?” The elf 
smiled. A nice, friendly smile that made Erestor feel warm inside. He couldn’t understand any 
of it. The Noldo took hold of his hand and rubbed it between his own. “I love this balcony. 
That it runs all the way around the west wing of the house. The plant life that has climbed up 
over the railing and made it come alive. I had thought it was mere ivy, but now they’re in full 
bloom, alive with funnel-shaped flowers in purple and blue... It’s beautiful.”

Glorfindel gazed down at his hands while he spoke, carefully rubbing the advisor’s cold skin. 
Erestor felt a tingle up his arm resembling delight when the blonde rubbed tiny patterns with 
his thumbs on the back of a pale hand. It had been a long time since anyone had touched the 
Chief Counsellor that way. His eyes were nearly closed in bliss by the time he realized what 
was happening, and yanked his hand away.

“Yes. The flowers are quite lovely this time of year,” he said coldly, not looking at the other 
elf.

“I am sorry if I violated your privacy, master Erestor. It was merely out of concern.”

“I understand. I am not angry with you.”

Glorfindel smiled, taking upon himself to brush a stray lock of dark hair from the advisor’s 
face. “If you ever feel like talking - to someone other than Elrond - remember I am only down 
the hall. All right?”

Erestor nodded and watched the blonde rise and walk out the balcony doors. Smiling blue 
eyes looked back at him one last time before they vanished, and suddenly the elf still in bed 
felt as though a hole had been torn in his chest. Sinking back beneath the covers, he flung a 
hand over his eyes, wondering what in Mordor was wrong with him. Something felt strangely 
alien inside, and yet so achingly familiar he didn’t know what to make of it. For some reason 
he felt as though he knew this feeling. As if he had been through this before. Why was it so 
hard to hate Glorfindel?!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summer moved on and the days grew hotter with the season. Even Elrond began to look 
uncomfortable in his robes, and switched to lighter and more casual clothing. Most younger 
elves ran around with barely anything at all, and it was hard for the elder ones not to let their 
eyes slip to the agile young bodies. Erestor had never appreciated hot weather, and preferred 
to stay inside, in the northern rooms of the house were it was cool and dark. Unfortunately 
there was not much for him to do, and he grew fretfully bored. All that was left was to obsess 
over his past, and still, after weeks of probing the deep tunnels of his mind he had not been 
able to unlock the door to his subconscious. He had the feeling something important was 
evading him.

One particularly sunny day, he was sitting with his brooding as usual when he was interrupted 
by two identical elflings crashing through the door and bouncing over to him.

“Erestor, you must come!”

“Yes, come now!”

“Elladan, Elrohir, what are you talking about? Has something happened?”

The two youngsters grinned happily at him, half climbing on his lap, half pulling him out of 
his chair. “Come and you will see!” In the end he relented and followed the twins out into the 
hot sun. They pulled at his wrists to make him walk faster, but instead he walked slower 
simply to tease them, and laughed when he saw how frustrated they got.

“Erestor!” they whined in unison.

“All right, all right, I’m coming,” he chuckled, and followed the elflings who ran ahead.

They led him to the far side of the courtyard, where several warriors were tending to their 
horses. Erestor was surprised. He had not expected the patrol to be back so soon. Elladan 
waved at him, and he continued to follow the little ones. He came to realize that they had been 
sent by Glorfindel, who waited for him with an especially wide grin in the shade of some 
trees. Steeling himself, the advisor stepped closer. But there was something suspicious about 
the scene. The horse being tended to by the Noldo was not Asfaloth.

“All right, what is going on here,” he demanded, eyeing the black stallion warily.

It was a strong beast with sturdy limbs, a long, bushy mane and thick fur around its hooves. 
This horse was of northern bloodline, quite rare in the region. Eyes narrowing, Erestor looked 
at the blonde. Glorfindel only grinned.

“Is he not the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Yes, isn’t he, Erestor?” the twins agreed, their arms wrapped around each of the stallion’s 
front legs.

Erestor reached out, entangling his hand in the large mane and lightly scratching the beast’s 
neck, warranting a pleased grunt from the animal.

“He is indeed.”

The advisor allowed himself a small smile, delighting at the way the horse leaned into the 
touch. But the blond Noldo still only grinned, and it was quite unnerving. Erestor was about 
to demand an explanation for the seneschal’s smugness when Glorfindel reached out and 
planted the reins in the counsellor’s hand.

“Good. Because he’s yours.”

The twins giggled with glee, but Erestor stood dumbfounded. “What?”

“We were up by the northern borders when we ran into a group of Dúnedain. They had him 
carrying supplies. I don’t know what happened to me, but when I saw him... I knew he had to 
be yours.”

“How...”

“We made a trade. I gave them my sword.”

Erestor was utterly stunned. “You traded your sword?!” How unlike a warrior.

Glorfindel chuckled. “It wasn’t my favourite sword anyway. Besides, the ranger seemed 
pleased enough. Probably never held an elvish sword before. So, what do you think?”

The counsellor took a pause for contemplation. He didn’t know what he thought. On the one 
hand it was an incredible gift, unlike any he had ever received, one he had wished for since he 
was an elfling. But on the other hand... This had to be some deception on the Noldo’s part, a 
treat to blind him, a bribe to make him think more highly of the warrior. Was it working? 
Erestor didn’t know.

Glorfindel noticed the counsellor hesitate, and told the youngsters to go play with the other 
warriors. Once the two elves were alone, the blonde addressed the true issue.

“You don’t want him...because he’s from me.”

“I never said that.”

“But it was on your mind. Can you not pretend someone else gave him to you?”

“Is it that important to you that I have a horse?”

“No. It’s that important that you have this horse. I knew he was yours the moment I laid eyes 
on him. You will never find another horse like this one, Erestor, I know it.”

“Very well,” Erestor conceded. He didn’t want to argue. And he didn’t want to think about 
what this meant for either of them, but would rather do as Glorfindel had suggested and 
pretend he had come to own the beast from someone else. Thinking for a moment, he petted 
the stallion’s dark face, already feeling a swell of affection for the horse. His horse... Then he 
made the decision. “I thank you for your generosity, seneschal,” he said. “I will of course 
reimburse you for your sword.”

“That is unnecessary, counsellor,” the blonde said, his disappointment obvious.

“I insist.” The horse nudged its head against him, the nimble lips playing with a button on his 
tunic. “What have got there?” Erestor crooned, focusing all his attention on the beast. “You 
think I have funny buttons? Or are you simply hungry? Were those rangers not feeding you 
properly? You’ve got a nice build, so I would say they were.” He kissed the soft muzzle, 
whispering to the black horse. “Just you wait a few more weeks. There will be ripe carrots and 
apples, and I’ll make sure you always have plenty of both, lirimaer.”

When he looked up he noticed the smugness was back on the Noldo’s face, and hurried to 
conceal his joy. Yes, he was happy with the gift, he decided. Very happy. But the blonde was 
already smug enough. Erestor was about to say something that he would regret later, but was 
thankfully interrupted by two bouncy elflings that threw themselves around his waist.

“Can we go swimming now, Glorfindel?” Elladan asked.

“Ada promised you would come swimming with us,” Elrohir concurred.

“Of course we will,” Glorfindel smiled, and the twins cheered happily. “On one condition.” 
Silence. A look at the advisor. “Erestor must come with us.”

“Yes!” the elflings exclaimed. “You can ride your new horse! What are you going to call 
him?”

“I...I don’t know...”

“You can think about it on the way,” the blonde grinned. “Come.”

Apparently there was nothing more to say. Elrond and Celebrían both soon appeared, already 
mounted on their own horses, seemingly aware of Erestor’s gift since they only nodded his 
way and smiled. He tried to smile back, but the whole thing felt too awkward. All the same, 
once on the back of the black stallion he felt perfectly at ease. The beast moved with flawless 
grace, and it was a heavenly pleasure to ride him. He rode at the back of the group headed for 
the Bruinen, where no one could see him grinning happily and taking little detours so he could 
jump a fallen tree or rock. The stallion snickered at him and trotted merrily along.

Once they reached the shores of the river, however, he realized something else. He would 
have to bathe... It was their usual bathing location, where the waters were appropriately deep, 
but still enough for the elflings not to be drawn away by the current. The twins carelessly 
threw off all their clothes and ran straight for the water, screaming with glee, heedless of their 
mother’s plea. Glorfindel did the same, and although Erestor had seen virtually all the elves in 
Imladris naked at one point or another, he felt he had to turn his gaze away. He did not look 
back until the Noldo was waist-deep in the river.

Elrond and Celebrían were happier sitting in the shallow waters, looking deeply into each 
other’s eyes and whispering into each other’s ears. There were rumours in the valley that the 
Lady Celebrían was pregnant again, but if she was, Erestor was certain Elrond would have 
told him first of all. For now the couple looked content simply being together and leaving the 
babysitting to Glorfindel. The warrior was tossing the elflings around in the water, each of 
them roaring with laughter, both screaming “Again! Again!”

But Erestor did not feel like taking his clothes off in front of the Noldo, no matter how warm 
it was. He settled in the shade of a tree, watching the horses graze. Leaning his head back 
against the trunk, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sounds of the summer. The heavy hooves 
of the horses as they walked about. The children cheering, begging the warrior to throw them 
higher in the air. Elrond’s loving whispers to his wife. A warm breeze blew on his face, and 
Erestor felt a peace settle inside him that had not been there for a long time. He felt utterly 
relaxed.

That is until he found himself with his arms full of wet elfling. He shrieked with surprise as 
the twins ambushed him and slithered their naked little bodies into his lap, effectively soaking 
all his clothes. They giggled and chattered between themselves as they decided the chief 
counsellor was due for a tickling. Erestor tried to protest, but it was too late. They tumbled 
around on the grass, the twins trying to tickle Erestor and him trying to tickle them. In the 
end, being the bigger elf, the advisor got hold of one slippery twin under each arm and during 
loud protests carried them to the shore where he tossed them back into the water. They 
cheered happily as soon as their heads popped above the surface, and Erestor laughed along 
with their absurd happiness. To be a carefree child in summertime...

“Come swim with us!”

“Please, Erestor?” they begged.

“Maybe next time, pyn-neth,” he chuckled, watching the elflings go back to their games.

Only then did he realize he was being watched. Glorfindel stood at the water’s edge, his eyes 
wide and his brow furrowed. Feeling scrutinized, the advisor steeled his features and glared 
back, trying not to let his eyes drift below the neck. “What?”

“Erestor, you...that is the first time I have seen you smile, or heard you laugh.” The seneschal 
shook his head. “You reminded me of someone.”

“Oh, really.” His heart was beating madly in his chest, but he tried to ignore it. He dreaded the 
day Glorfindel might remember their brief encounters in the past. “And whom did I remind 
you of?”

“I don’t know.” Glorfindel stepped closer, gaze fixed on Erestor’s face as if he was trying to 
see once more what he had seen before. But his memories seemed as elusive as Erestor’s and 
he shook his head again. “It might have been a mistake. As I have said, my memory is not 
what is used to be. Mandos changes things in ways I cannot describe.”

“I’m sure it does,” he said diplomatically, willing his pulse to calm.

“Will you not swim with us?”

“I had a bath this morning,” Erestor lied, “I certainly don’t feel like getting wet again today.”

Glorfindel looked him up and down with an amused grin. “You look wet to me already.” A 
wicked gleam appeared in the blue eyes, and as the blonde turned, the counsellor knew 
exactly what he was planning.

“Touch me, and by the Valar I will wring your neck!” he pointed threateningly at the Noldo 
and backed away from the water. He would not get thrown in with his clothes on.

“Relax, Counsellor,” the blonde grinned. “I’m only teasing you.”

Then he leapt into the water and was gone.


---------------------------

Chapter 4 - Discovery

A week later the rain came pouring down. A thunderstorm that lasted for days put the valley 
in darkness and dismissed any further wishes of going swimming. Warmth was still in the air, 
but the river flooded and the waters grew perilous. No one was more relieved than the 
counsellor. He was glad for the excuse to put on a thick robe and stay in his study all day, 
reading some new writings that had arrived from the East. The loneliness was tearing him 
apart as he once again pulled away from the family, but he could not bear to be near 
Glorfindel right now.

His mind taunted him, showing him bits of the past mixed with the present, making no sense 
of his thoughts. He had not slept since the storm began, but sat awake all night, watching 
lightning play across the sky. It was terribly frightening. And beautiful. As he fought the wind 
and the rain one morning to bring some treats for the black stallion, he realized that his beast 
was one of the few creatures in the stable not quivering with fear as thunder shook the earth. 
He promptly decided to name him Alagos. Storm. The horse immediately took a liking to the 
name, appearing relieved he had finally been accepted by his new master and granted the 
privilege of a title.

It relieved the advisor as well. He found himself spending hours upon hours with his new 
friend, staving off the need to socialize with the Peredhil family. Grooming the tall stallion 
was an activity that soothed his soul, and soon he was no longer obsessing about times past. 
He brushed the shiny coat and made braids in the thick mane, keeping his hands busy while 
quietly talking to the horse. It didn’t matter what he said, it felt good simply talking to 
someone who didn’t judge him on something as superficial as words.

Spending time with Alagos relaxed him like nothing else, and after three nights awake he 
finally slept soundly till dawn. And in dreams, he found some answers he hadn’t known to 
look for.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


“Let me go! What are you doing?!” Erestor fought against the one who had found him, but his 
entire body seemed weakened by grief.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You cannot simply lie down in the snow and think it will all get better.” 
Strong arms held him upright, but the young elf only longed to fall forward into numbing 
coldness. “It’s all right, Erestor,” a deep voice crooned in his ear. “Everything will be all 
right.”

“No...” he sobbed, not bothering to struggle anymore. The warm chest pressed against his 
back was too comforting, the arms around him too protective, the breath in his hair too 
soothing. It felt too good to be held, and he unconsciously leaned back, turning his head, and 
cried against the welcomed shoulder.

“Shhh...” A hand petted his hair. “It’s all right...”

Erestor surrendered to the warmth of the embrace and shed his final tears in silence. There 
was something strangely perfect about the situation, something he could not put his finger on, 
but it was unlike anything he had experienced before. The arms had him secured, and he held 
onto them, making sure they didn’t leave. But once all the tears had gone and the sobs had 
ceased, he was left with the feeling of being a stupid child again. He knew now was the time 
to grow up, and face the consequences of what he had done. Turning, he faced his rescuer.

“Do you feel better now?” Glorfindel asked, wearing a smile that would have melted all the 
snow had winter had a heart.

“He doesn’t love me,” Erestor said sadly, not daring to look the Noldo in the eye.

“Yes, he does. He doesn’t love you best, but he loves you.” Erestor glared resentfully at the 
blonde, the comment constricting his heart with its malice. Glorfindel took a deep breath. “I 
didn’t mean it like that. You see, the problem with Ecthelion is that he loves everyone. He is 
just and fair, maybe too much so, and doesn’t permit himself to love any elf more than 
another. He doesn’t love me over you, pen-neth.”

“Yet he thinks you a lover and me a child. Therein lies the difference.”

“True. But neither I get the love I crave from him. I doubt anyone ever will. He loves too 
much, with too many, and one elf’s heart is no bottomless well. Sooner or later, the spring 
must run dry.”

Erestor thought about this. He didn’t want to believe it, but the truth in Glorfindel’s words 
was undeniable. He saw the pain clearly in the compassionate blue eyes, and he came to 
wonder why he had never seen it before. Glorfindel truly loved Ecthelion, perhaps more than 
he was loved in return, and Erestor knew only too well how painful that was. Suddenly 
overwhelmed by sympathy for the other elf, Erestor hugged him. It did not take many seconds 
before those strong arms were once again around him, and he relaxed completely in the 
embrace.

“How’s your hand?” Glorfindel asked, a smile in his voice, and Erestor pulled away to look at 
him.

“You know about that?” The warrior nodded. Erestor lowered his eyes in shame, but he was 
made to look up.

“Don’t feel bad. He’s had worse. Besides, it’s his own fault for being so damned lovable.”

They both snickered, and Erestor realized they were still holding each other. But he didn’t 
mind. The cold was starting to get to him and nothing looked more heavenly at that moment 
than the enclosure of warrior arms. The cold stable loft had lost all its appeal, but the young 
elf had no desire to return to his room either. He could still hardly believe what he said next.

“Do you know somewhere warm I can stay for the night? I cannot go back there, not yet.”

Glorfindel smiled, that special smile of his that turned strong elves into puddles of mush, and 
wrapped his arm around narrow shoulders.

“I know the perfect place.”

Erestor slept comfortably that night, on a sofa in front of a large fireplace in the House of the 
Golden Flower, his head on Glorfindel’s lap.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Erestor woke slowly, so utterly relaxed in his bed that dreams nearly followed him into 
waking. He could still feel the gentle fingers in his hair, the warm thigh beneath his face. He 
still heard the humming voice, soothing him to sleep. But when he opened his eyes, all he saw 
was the wall of his Rivendell chamber, and the dresser that held his sleeping clothes. Blinking 
a few times, he tried to drive the visions from his eyes, sleepily trying to decide what was real 
and what was imagination. In the end, he sat up, stunned by the memories that had come to 
him in the night.

For months now he had been driving himself into a pit of despair over the reborn Noldo, only 
ever remembering his distaste and dislike for him. But something had happened that last 
winter before Gondolin fell. Something had taken place between them, an understanding that 
had enabled them to refrain from being enemies. They were not rivals for the same elf’s love; 
they were merely discontented with the few precious crumbs they had been tossed. In that 
respect they were the same. But why should Erestor have forgotten something so vital to his 
opinion of Glorfindel?

It made no sense. The advisor got up and walked out onto the balcony. Any traces of the 
storm clouds were long gone, and the sun once more shone down on the valley. Birds sang 
happily in the canopies, and the youngest elflings were already awake and playing in the 
puddles the rain had left behind. It was a lovely day. Even Erestor felt strangely alive. He 
decided that for the first time in weeks he would join the family for breakfast. In order to 
satisfy his curiosity and settle the issue once and for all, he had to look into Glorfindel’s eyes 
and see if there was something there that would bring back more recollections of pivotal 
events. Erestor needed to study the phenomenon that was Glorfindel and decide if there was 
more to be learned about him. He could not rest until he discovered the last of his missing 
memories.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Elrond seemed surprised with his sudden appearance at breakfast, but all of them appeared 
glad he had decided to join them. The twins chattered more than they ate, eager to tell Erestor 
a hundred stories at once about the scary thunder and the indoor games they had played 
during the storm. The counsellor merely smiled and listened, his heart bleeding with affection 
for the two young ones. But once their mother told them to be quiet and eat their breakfast, 
Erestor was able to engage in more adult conversation with his lord. Every now and then the 
seneschal would comment on something, and Erestor looked him deeply in the eye, searching 
for something to trigger his sleeping mind.

The blonde, however, appeared to be made uncomfortable by his probing gaze, and preferred 
to look in a different direction. Elrond only radiated relief at the fact that they were speaking 
at all. The situation was not entirely satisfactory, but Erestor enjoyed a bit of company and 
conversation for a change.

“Glorfindel?” Elladan asked, his plate clearly emptied in a hurry. “Will you tell us about the 
Balrog now?”

The Noldo laughed uncomfortably. “I hardly think that’s a story to be heard over the breakfast 
table.”

“But...” Elrohir looked sad. “You said you would tell us when the storm passed, when we 
wouldn’t be afraid of the thunder anymore. You promised.”

“Feeling cornered, meldir?” Elrond grinned, amused, and refilled his teacup.

“Do go on, seneschal,” Erestor said, intrigued as to how much the blonde was remembering 
now. “I would very much like to hear the story myself, from one who was there and didn’t 
live to tell the tale.”

“Very well,” the warrior cleared his throat. “I suppose I have no choice.” He smiled at the 
little ones, who immediately scooted closer, positively bouncing in their chairs. Perking their 
pointy little ears up, they stared at the Noldo with undisguised awe as he leaned forward and 
began his tale in a whisper.

“Year 510 of the first age the snow fell heavily in the hidden valley of Tumladen. The city of 
Gondolin was all but swallowed in a sea of white, and elves stayed in their homes, cold and 
hungry. When spring finally showed its face, we were all so happy, so glad to be rid of the ice 
and snow that we threw a spectacular party. A feast to welcome spring to the city. I was there 
with my friends, taking part in the celebrations, listening to the music and enjoying the food. 
It was truly a lovely night, alight with all the stars, and we felt that life was good to us.”

“But it wouldn’t last...” Elladan breathed, his eyes wide with excitement.

“No. It would not. Like lightning from a clear sky came the trumpet call from the city wall, 
alerting us to danger. I ran to see what was happening, and once I reached the viewpoint I was 
horrified beyond belief. In the north, in a gorge between two mountain peaks, we saw the 
throng of creatures that flooded into our haven. Orcs, Balrogs and firedrakes, melting the 
snow beneath their feet as they made their way down from the pass. The call came out to arm 
ourselves, for we would be forced to defend our city to the bitter end.”

“Were you frightened?” Elrohir asked quietly.

“Of course I was. We all were. We knew many of us would die that day, but we had to fight 
and save as many as we could. The King defended his white tower, still hoping we could save 
the city, but Morgoth knew where it lay now, and he would keep sending his evil creatures to 
slay us until there was none left. Yet we fought as if there was still a chance, fought with all 
our might and all our hearts, until it became obvious we would not survive. The city was 
surrounded, flooded with evil creatures, children and women helpless inside.”

“What did you do?” the twins asked in unison, both of them halfway out of their chairs and 
onto the table, leaning in as to not miss a word.

“I was fighting alongside my best friend, Ecthelion, when we saw the biggest, meanest Balrog 
of them all; Gothmog, the Lord of Balrogs, one responsible for the deaths of many great elves, 
including Fëanor himself. He was coming directly towards us, backing us into the king’s 
square, his fiery whip ready to send us all to Mandos if we dared oppose him. But I saw no 
choice, no other option than to spend my last breath defending what was left of the city. 
Ecthelion disagreed.”

“What did he say?” the twins asked, and Erestor was wondering the same thing. Suddenly he 
found it hard to remember exactly how he had gotten out of the city himself. Was he even in 
the battle? He didn’t remember.

“Ecthelion told me there was no sense in us both dying, when there were people still in the 
city that needed help getting out. He said he would keep the Balrog busy, buy some time, and 
that I should go back and make sure as many as possible were escorted out through the secret 
tunnel. Among those people were your grandfather, Eärendil, then but seven years old, his 
elven mother - daughter of the King - and his mortal father. Regretfully, I left my friend in the 
bloodstained square and ran to help the refugees.”

“Ecthelion died, didn’t he?” Elrohir said sadly.

“Yes, he did.” There was grief in Glorfindel’s voice, but there was no regret lacing his words. 
He believed he had made the right choice, leaving his friend to die, and there was a part of 
Erestor that hated him for that.

“But he killed the Balrog too, didn’t he, Glorfindel?” Elladan intervened, trying to see the 
bright side of the situation, as he always did.

The Noldo smiled. “Yes, he did indeed. And I ran to help the refugees out through the secret 
passage. A rather small group of survivors they were, making their way up into the mountains 
and away from the city that was set aflame beneath them. I followed close behind, ready to 
protect them should the foul creatures follow us. It looked like we were safe. The smoke and 
fumes hid our escape. But then I heard a deafening roar, and the most frightening Balrog 
appeared on the mountainside. The exiles panicked, trying to run up the mountain in the deep 
snow to get away from the fiery demon. I alone stayed behind, armed only with a sword and 
sheer determination not to let the beast kill the last of our people. My people.”

“How did you do it?” the twins wanted to know.

“I swung my sword at him, again and again, forcing him back towards the rocky ledge. A 
deep ravine plummeted below us, and I knew it was our only chance, if I could get the 
monster off balance and make him fall. His whip cracked at me, singing my skin, and I 
stumbled in the snow. He raised his arm to strike me again, but I was faster. I got up and ran 
my sword through his mighty chest, hearing his painful roar as he fell over the edge. I turned 
to rejoin the refugees, but the Balrog caught his fist in my hair and pulled me with him into 
oblivion.”

The two wide-eyed elflings were so submerged in the story they were barely breathing. Their 
backs taut with suspense, they stayed still as if waiting for Glorfindel to continue, even though 
the tale told essentially stated that Glorfindel was dead and had nothing more to tell.

“And then - WHAM!” Glorfindel shouted, making not only the twins but also their parents 
jump high in their seats as he slammed his hand on the table.

The brothers giggled with glee and cheered happily as soon as the shock subsided, but Elrond 
irritated wiped the spilled tea from his robes.

“That was quite an enchanting tale, Glorfindel,” the half-elf said. “Is that the way it truly 
happened?”

“I swear to the Valar, Elrond,” the Noldo grinned. “I would not lie about my own death, 
would I?”

“What was it like being in Mandos, Glorfindel?” Elladan asked, trying to squeeze one more 
story out of the ancient warrior.

“Oh, please tell us!” Elrohir agreed.

“Absolutely not!” Elrond barked. “I think we’ve had all the excitement we can take in one 
day. Thank you, seneschal.”

The twins pouted, but Elrond would not change his mind. They would speak of nothing else 
for days, and their father knew it. It would be a nightmare putting them to bed at night. In the 
end Celebrían took them away and Elrond stepped out to change his robes, leaving Erestor 
and Glorfindel alone at the table. The advisor wasn’t sure what to make of either the story or 
the situation, for he realized there was another part of his past deeply suppressed in his mental 
landscape. He couldn’t for the life of him recall escaping the city, nor if he fought with the 
other warriors on the walls. All he remembered was slogging alongside the exiles, weeping at 
the loss of his beloved. He remembered Tuor trying to comfort him. He remembered little 
Eärendil, asleep in his mother’s arms as she carried him. But before then...his mind was blank.

“Erestor?” the Noldo called for his attention. “What are you thinking? You look as though 
you are miles away.”

“I was trying to imagine what it must have been like, watching your home in flames, your 
friends dying...fleeing into the cold mountains, fearing for your life. It does not sound like 
something you would want to experience. Or remember.”

“It certainly was not the type of spring celebration we were hoping for,” Glorfindel smiled, 
trying to chase the ghosts away. It was obvious the Noldo had not enjoyed reminiscing, but 
told his story out of need for his own sake.

“So, tell me about Ecthelion,” Erestor tried, looking into the sad blue eyes to see if there was 
something new there.

“What would you like to know?” the Noldo said reluctantly, clearly not happy at all about the 
topic of conversation.

“What would you like me to know?” the advisor countered.

Glorfindel took a deep breath and exhaled. “Ecthelion was...loved, by all. All respected him. 
He was wise and brave, and a very good friend.” A small smile played on the blonde’s lips, 
and his gaze grew distant, fixing on some far off scene. “He had the biggest heart of anyone 
I’ve known. He had such an enormous capability to love everyone around him that it made 
you addicted to him. Elves would do anything for him. Men, women, children, all adored him. 
Even the horses seemed drawn to his gentle nature. He was someone who you could never get 
enough of, and who could never bring himself to discriminate by loving one over another. All 
wanted him, but none had him. Many fought over him, but in the end it was everyone’s loss. 
He gave his life for us.”

“So he did,” Erestor said, trying to keep his voice neutral. But it puzzled him that Glorfindel 
remembered the details of certain things, and yet still did not recognize the counsellor’s 
ageless face.

“There we are,” Elrond announced as he re-entered the room in a clean robe. “You had me 
spilling tea all over myself, Glorfindel, and I hope you’re not going to do that again any time 
soon.” He raised an eyebrow in mock threat, and made the Noldo chuckle.

“Don’t worry, my lord. No more war stories at the breakfast table, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Elrond sat down and filled his cup a third time. “However, I am glad that you 
are finally speaking of the past. For a long time you could not.”

“I know. So many feelings and experiences got whisked around inside me, I couldn’t tell the 
real ones from the nightmares, but spending time here has me beginning to heal. This is a 
beautiful valley, Elrond. You should be proud.”

“I had a lot of help,” Elrond smiled, glancing over at Erestor.

The advisor nodded in acceptance of the compliment, but remained silent. There was a part of 
him that wanted to ask more questions, trigger more memories in the Noldorin brain, but there 
was another part that still feared what would happen if Glorfindel recognised him. On the one 
hand he hated lying to his lord, and on the other hand he saw no reason why Elrond had to 
know everything about him. He had made a clean break with that life the moment he left the 
exiles. Fashioning a reputation for himself, he had entered the service of King Gil-Galad as an 
advisor after Beleriand sank under the sea. It was not until later that he had become 
acquainted with Elrond, whose twin brother had left him for a mortal life. Why reopen closed 
wounds?

“So what were you speaking of when I interrupted?” Elrond asked. Erestor and Glorfindel 
looked at each other, both of them thinking it was too painful a road to walk down again.

“We spoke of Ecthelion,” the blonde finally said, and Elrond certainly noticed his solemn 
tone of voice.

“I suppose you miss him,” the half-elf tried, offering the Noldo his sympathy.

“I miss what he used to be. I doubt if he were reborn as I was, that he would still be the 
same.”

“Why do you say that?” Erestor asked, and at once noticed the change on the blonde’s face. 
“You saw him in the Halls, didn’t you? You saw that death had changed him.”

“Yes,” Glorfindel said painfully. “He was as a shell. Hard on the outside, empty inside. I 
looked into his eyes and there was nothing there.”

There were tears in his eyes, and Erestor’s first instinct was to run around the table and hug 
him, yet he remained nailed to his seat. Picturing Ecthelion as a hollow ghost was not 
something that would make his nightly rest any easier. The thought that all that was Ecthelion, 
the goodness and the love, had been lost forever and twisted into something foul was pure 
horror to Erestor. He could imagine it was the same for the Noldo.

“Now, Glorfindel,” Elrond said in his most compassionate voice. “You know there is no point 
in thinking that way. The Halls of Mandos is no place to reunite with loved ones, for Námo 
cannot heal their spiritual wounds. The souls that dwell there are still trying to accept their 
death, and while some of them may have appeared as shining stars when they were alive, they 
could still fester with anger over the way they died. Anger can change a soul and turn it 
hostile, and no one can make them whole again but themselves. You were lucky, Glorfindel. 
The Valar saw that your soul was pure, and gave you a second chance. All you can do is 
remember him the way he was in life, and honour his legacy.”

“I died the same way he did.” Glorfindel’s voice was thick with sorrow. “How come I 
remained whole and he was torn apart? He was so much better than I. It should have been 
him. The Valar should have saved him instead.”

“I will not have you saying such nonsense in my house,” Elrond said sternly. “Things 
happened the way they did, and it’s useless thinking that you could have changed them. When 
the time comes and Ecthelion is ready, he may come to be reborn in the undying lands. For 
now, his soul is still healing. You on the other hand need to heal your heart.” He smiled 
warmly, laying a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “No better place than around friends, eh, 
Glorfindel?”

Glorfindel smiled, putting his hand atop Elrond’s. “You are right, meldir, I know you are.” He 
wiped a tear from his cheek, turning his sad eyes to the advisor. “I only need more time. I died 
37 centuries ago, and sometimes it feels like it. But other times...when I wake in the middle of 
the night...it feels like yesterday. I can still smell my own flesh burning...hear my own 
screams...”

The gaze became too intense, and Erestor had to look away. A memory fluttered in his mind 
when Glorfindel spoke the last words, a tiny memory he wasn’t sure was real. His own 
screams... He knew that feeling. The feeling where you don’t realize you’re screaming until 
the sound reaches your ears. Until you hear your own voice, bouncing off the mountain 
walls...

“Time, you will have plenty of,” Elrond assured him. “Be sure to let me know if you need 
time by yourself. One of your captains can lead patrol.”

“No,” Glorfindel shook his head. “I like riding through the woods. Trapped in a room all by 
myself I’d go mad.”

“Very well.” 

Erestor watched the two elves exchange understanding glances and an embrace that was 
bordering on brotherly, yet somewhat strained. Well, at least they made an effort. He didn’t 
like seeing Glorfindel upset, but it was quite amusing to watch Elrond try to comfort him. The 
warrior was no child, yet Elrond only had a couple of decades of experience in comforting 
elflings, so naturally he was having some difficulties in dealing with this new situation. 
Erestor had no idea what to say, so he kept quiet. For some reason he suddenly felt that 
Glorfindel’s fate was the sad one, compared to Ecthelion who didn’t have to be alive and 
suffer the curse that is emotions. Had he re-evaluated his opinion of the Noldo after all?

As was common with Glorfindel, it took but a few moments for him to collect himself, wipe 
the tears from his eyes and put the smile back on. Within a few minutes he was joking, and 
Erestor felt hopeful that in time he would indeed heal the last of his wounds. He had done 
remarkably well for someone who had not yet been alive a year, that was for certain.

“So you are confident you can do this?” Elrond asked.

“I am, my lord. I will do as you said, and think of him the way he was when he lived. There is 
no point in anguish.” Glorfindel smiled, but the sorrow was still there, hidden behind his sad 
blue eyes. “Though, I can’t help but wonder how my soul stayed whole through the transition. 
My death was not a pleasant one.”

“I don’t know precisely what it takes for a soul to be torn, but I know it has to do with more 
than just the pain of dying. Perhaps Ecthelion was not as peaceful and happy as you thought 
him to be. Surely he must have had problems of his own, issues unsettled perhaps that leaving 
unfinished angered him. It could have been any number of things unknown to you or anyone 
else. In spite of how well you knew him, I assure you, my friend, you did not know 
everything.” Elrond glanced at his advisor briefly before looking sincerely at Glorfindel. 
“How could we ever know everything about someone?”


------------------------

Chapter 5 - Saviour

The last weeks of summer carried with them a comfortable warm wind, and flowers turned to 
fruits on the trees. The dark counsellor once more withdrew and kept to himself. There were 
things that needed to be contemplated in solitude, but no matter how hard he tried or how well 
he relaxed, the answers didn’t flood his brain as he had expected they would. He never 
thought it would be this difficult. In his life he had read thousands of books, and knew them 
all by heart. He could recite page upon page from any given writing, pull from his memory 
the most intricate details of elvish history. So why could he not remember the most significant 
day of his young life?

He could certainly remember every second of the battle at Gorgoroth, where Gil-Galad had 
fallen. Erestor had served the elven King closely and been his confidant through many 
hardships. He remembered everything about the day Ereinion had died. So why was it that the 
fall of Gondolin had been stricken from his mind? Erased from the story of his life. It did not 
sit well with the advisor at all.

For the first time in ages, Erestor would spend his days riding in the woods. Alagos was the 
ultimate companion, for he listened willingly without offering feeble advice or cruel 
judgement. The horse carried him steadily under sun, moon and stars, never questioning 
where they were going or if they should return soon. Right now it was his closest friend. In 
the end Erestor began to despair. Something important was missing in his mind and it tore 
him apart inside knowing that whatever it was could change everything. He thought of 
Glorfindel’s tale, of the way Elrond had looked at him, and felt that they both knew 
something about him he didn’t know himself. It was utterly disturbing.

He went to bed with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something had happened to 
him that day in the Encircling Mountains. Something so traumatic it had been forced to hide 
in the back alleys of his consciousness. Something so horrific he had completely blocked it 
from recollection. But what could have been worse than losing Ecthelion?


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


It had at last ceased snowing. The sun was making brief appearances and bringing the valley 
to glisten in blue and gold. Erestor blinked at the sudden brightness when he came out from 
the dark, adjusting his eyes to the new light. Walking with light steps on the crusted snow, he 
headed for the stables where he knew someone would be waiting for him. When he came 
closer, one of the horses snorted and made Glorfindel look up. He smiled at the young elf.

“There you are,” he said, letting go of Asfaloth’s hoof and straightening his back. “So? How 
did it go?”

Erestor stepped closer, petted the horse’s white mane and shrugged. “He forgave me.”

“I knew he would,” Glorfindel grinned, putting a hand on the dark haired elf’s shoulder. “He 
could never stay angry with you.”

“Ecthelion could never stay angry with anyone,” Erestor said, shaking his head. “Aiya, 
Glorfindel, I have been a fool.”

“No more a fool than I, or anyone else for that matter. I have been where you are, and I can 
tell you honestly; the sooner you get over him the better. I could not, and look where I am! 
Still running around him like a love struck elfling...”

Erestor giggled, always amused at how the lord gave so much of himself freely, never once 
minding what it did to his pride. Glorfindel was always smiling, always in a good mood, 
always joking about himself rather than someone else. It was rather humbling. 

“For the longest time I thought you were evil personified,” Erestor said, his eyes glittering 
with mirth. “I thought you to be the nastiest elf I had ever met.”

“Why thank you!” Glorfindel beamed. “Be sure to send that message to Captain Maeglin, I’m 
certain he would be thrilled to know that someone agrees with him.”

Erestor laughed. “I am trying to tell you I was wrong. I was too wrapped in my own worries 
to see anyone else’s troubles. I am sure that it was never your intent to be mean to me, those 
times when I felt you were.”

“Mean?” Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. “When have I ever been mean to you?”

“That is what I’m trying to say,” Erestor said patiently, stepping closer to the blonde. “You 
probably don’t even remember, but to me everything you said and did was hurtful.”

“If that is the case, then I do apologise. Like I told you, I’ve been acting like an elfling around 
Ecthelion for as long as I can remember. I suppose I was jealous.”

“I suppose I was also.”

The two elves smiled at each other, and without thought ended up in a warm embrace. Erestor 
leaned his head on the warrior’s shoulder, marvelling at how well it fit there. Letting out a 
deep sigh, the young elf snuggled up to the other body, drawing strength from it. There was 
something mysteriously right about being held by Glorfindel, and for the first time Erestor 
was able to admit that he liked it, that he didn’t care what Ecthelion thought or did about the 
situation. As long as Glorfindel kept holding him, he knew he would be all right. Everything 
would be all right.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Spring drew nearer. The snow was nearly gone from the budding ground and melted ice 
dripped from the rooftops. It was the most welcomed spring, not only because of the hard 
winter, but because for the first time Erestor looked at the future with hope. He no longer felt 
the need to escape into a world of books and scrolls, but was content existing this very 
moment, in this very place. Every day brought him new joy. Some days he spent practising 
swordplay, and Glorfindel proved to be an excellent teacher. To his own surprise he found 
himself enjoying it far more than the bow and arrow Ecthelion had taught him to use.

Other days he spent riding in the valley, also then with Glorfindel at his side. The popular 
Noldo had no trouble borrowing a horse, and Erestor happily rode whatever beast he brought. 
They formed an understanding between them, and Erestor felt a belonging like he never had 
before. He felt like he was one of only two members in a secret society, where no one else 
was admitted. There was only one rule in this secret society, and that was to never feel bad 
about Ecthelion. Together, they managed to keep each other’s spirits up, and not obsess about 
the beautiful elf that neither of them could have.

One evening, they stood together on the outer wall, watching the sun set between the 
mountain peaks. There was a warm southern wind, speaking promises of a summer to come. 
A curtain of dark hair was lifted on a gust of wind and swept into Glorfindel’s face. The 
Noldo laughed, catching the floating silk with his arm and trying to put it back on the head 
where it belonged. It didn’t quite work, to Erestor’s great amusement, and the blonde ended 
up with his hands around the dark head, holding the soft locks down where the wind could not 
reach to play. The younger elf chuckled, but Glorfindel only smiled, gently stroking his 
thumbs over pointed ears as he gazed into dark eyes.

“Never until now did I notice what beautiful eyes you have,” the Noldo said, in an instant 
bringing a blush to Erestor’s face. “Deep and mysterious, like the ocean.”

“You flatter me, my lord,” Erestor whispered, trying to look anywhere but at Glorfindel’s 
face.

“Here,” a warm voice crooned, and his head was tilted up, forcing him to look where he 
didn’t want to. “I don’t like it when you call me ‘my lord’ any more than you like it when I 
call you ‘pen-neth’, so let’s skip the titles, shall we?” The dreaded face came closer. “I so 
prefer when you say my name.” The slightest touch of a nose against his.

“Glorfindel...”

“Yes, just like that.” The faint whisper of lips upon his.

“Glorfindel, I...”

But Erestor could not finish whatever it was he was going to say, and soon it didn’t matter. 
Silenced with a kiss, all his worries melted away, and he gave himself completely to the 
circumstances. The strong hands left his hair to travel south and settle at the slim waist, 
leaving raven tresses to the playful wind. Erestor eagerly accepted lips and tongue, wrapping 
his arms around a warrior neck and pressing close to the welcoming body. They kissed for 
long moments, shrouded in a veil of dark hair, not noticing the sun’s disappearance from the 
sky.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Erestor ran through the city, dodging elves, horses and carriages, heedless of anything in his 
way. He kept running until he came to his destination, panting and dishevelled, facing the one 
he was looking for. Glorfindel only laughed and shook his head, continuing his chores with a 
smile. Erestor walked into the stable, suddenly feeling like a nervous elfling again.

“Is that what you mean by ‘as soon as possible’?” Glorfindel chuckled, lifting another saddle 
onto the stack. “Running like a lunatic?”

“Never underestimate the force of a young elf’s desire, my friend.” Erestor grinned wickedly, 
sneaking up to the Noldo as a wolf stalks his prey.

Glorfindel arched an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

“What makes you think I’m up to something?” he purred, inching closer.

Before the blonde could say anything further, Erestor attacked, latching his mouth onto 
Glorfindel’s and devouring him in a hungry kiss. The warrior soon found himself pressed 
against a wall with no route of escape, completely overpowered by the smaller creature. There 
was no other choice than to return the action with the same fervour. Leaning back, the warrior 
allowed himself to be kissed deeply, seemingly thrilled that the younger elf was taking 
charge. And Erestor took advantage, melting their mouths together and tasting every deep 
region of the older elf. He held the soft lips captive along with the sneaky tongue, trapping the 
blonde completely with unrestrained lust.

When they finally parted, Erestor had a good reason for catching his breath.

“Aren’t you a wild one today,” Glorfindel grinned. “Should you not be helping prepare for the 
party?”

Erestor groaned pitifully. “Do we have to go to the party? Can we not simply go to your 
bedchamber instead?”

Glorfindel chuckled, tightening his hold on the smaller elf. “Now, now, let’s not be hasty.” He 
teased his lips against Erestor’s. “There will be plenty of time for that -after- the party.”

“But there’s a celebration every spring,” he whined dramatically. “Why is this one so 
important?”

“Perhaps because you’re going with me,” the Noldo grinned, stroking Erestor’s cheek 
affectionately.

Erestor sighed, savouring the feeling of being truly loved. Leaning his forehead against 
Glorfindel’s, he inhaled the crisp scent of the warrior, finally letting the air from his lungs 
with a delighted sound. He could have stopped time right there and stayed in that moment 
forever. His heart pounded a steady pulse through his veins, making his blood dance 
rhythmically beneath pale skin. Absorbed in his billowing emotions, he imagined it was how 
trees felt, swaying in the wind, completely at peace with the world. Nothing could be more 
perfect.

“So, after the party then?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Glorfindel grinned. “I can hardly wait.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

In the end Erestor was glad he had been forced to go to the celebrations. The mood was merry 
all around and wine was plentiful. He stayed close to Glorfindel, not once willing to let him 
escape from sight. The blonde was very desirable, too much so for the young elf’s taste, and 
he would not let anyone get the impression he was fair game tonight. This Noldo was taken. 
Putting a possessive arm around the warrior’s waist, Erestor felt content that no one would 
dare try to steal him. However, he eventually had to let go in order to pour them both some 
wine before they continued on their stroll through the happy crowd.

“Mae govannen, dear friends!” Ecthelion called as he approached them, and the three elves 
exchanged civil greetings. But there was a strange smile on the dark Noldo’s face as he asked 
them. “So, when did this happen?” Erestor and Glorfindel both looked confused, until 
Ecthelion gestured towards their interlaced fingers.

“Oh.” Glorfindel actually blushed, an occurrence that Erestor was utterly unfamiliar with. 
“Quite recently, I assure you,” he told his friend.

“I am happy for you,” Ecthelion said to them, putting a hand on Erestor’s shoulder. “I cannot 
think of a better matched couple.”

The young elf frowned. “Why do you say that?” It was a statement he could not understand, 
but his lord only smiled.

“You are more alike than you know. Have a nice evening.”

He winked at them as he left, but for a second Erestor thought he saw sadness in the dark grey 
eyes. The young elf stood there, watching as the Lord of the Fountain merged with the crowd 
and was gone. Not until he felt a thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand did he look up 
and notice the blonde looking at him. Caught in the act, he blushed.

“I only...”

“I know,” Glorfindel stopped him. “Something felt odd.”

“Yes.”

For the rest of the night Erestor tried not to think about it, but he could tell it was on both their 
minds. They found a place beneath a budding tree to sit by themselves, exchanging 
meaningful glances and tentative touches. Despite the early hour the sun had not yet shown its 
face, and soon all elves would head for higher ground, ready to welcome summer into their 
hearts with first morning light. The stars alone illuminated the night. Erestor leaned his head 
on Glorfindel’s shoulder, closing his eyes and listening to distant musicians singing to the 
spring, and he uttered a silent wish that they could stay like this forever.

But a loud horn broke the spell of reverie.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

It all happened so fast it seemed to Erestor the world had turned upside down. The noise was 
deafening, and he dared not look to see what was happening to the elves on the other side of 
the wall. Glorfindel was one of them...

He had been nearly paralysed with fear when he realized what was happening, and was 
naught but relieved when Glorfindel became his warrior self and began shouting orders. The 
Noldo had handed Erestor a sword from the armoury and told him the location of a hidden 
passage, one that led out of the city and into the mountains. He wanted Erestor to go there and 
protect the entrance. Another elf was given the task to usher people towards the hidden 
entrance while the best fighters left safety behind to stall the horde of vicious creatures that 
were about to swarm the city. A loud roar in the distance had made Erestor quiver with terror, 
and he had grabbed onto Glorfindel’s tunic, not willing to let him go.

“I will return,” the blonde vouched, kissing him tenderly and soothing him enough to pry his 
fingers loose, “I promise.”

Erestor followed his orders perfectly, since he didn’t know what else to do. He stayed out of 
sight, trying not to listen to the rising volume of approaching battle and kept an eye out for 
refugees. A group of women with their young appeared; escorted by a pair of young warriors, 
and Erestor made sure they all found their way out of the city. For a moment he thought his 
task a pointless one, and wondered if he should not be fighting to save the city like the other 
warriors. He had certainly been trained well enough. But soon he thought again.

A group of truly foul looking orcs had found a way into Gondolin, and he had to quickly get 
out of their sight. The cursed beings scattered between the buildings and Erestor heard the 
bone chilling noise of an innocent meeting his death. Not able to stop himself he looked 
around the corner, only to come face to face with the grisly murderer. Without a single 
thought or hesitation Erestor swung his sword and effectively separated the snarling head 
from the rest of the orc, leaving the two unequal pieces to fall to the ground with a thud. 
Panting, the young elf felt the dark blood of the creature trickle down his face. He stood 
frozen, shocked at himself, staring down at the corpse, his sword still held high as if he was 
expecting his attacker to suddenly reanimate.

A shout woke him, and he assumed his task with renewed confidence, dragging the heavy 
body out of the way. A group of people led by the mortal Tuor were coming his way, 
shielding between them the King’s daughter and her young son. Arrows cocked, the men tried 
to eliminate any orcs following them, but they could not run and shoot at the same time. 
Erestor yelled at them to go into the tunnel, but knew from experience that the mortal was 
stubborn. Tuor stayed beside him, bow at the ready.

“What are you doing?” Erestor asked compassionately. “Go with your family.”

“I cannot leave you alone. They have almost breached the city walls. Soon...this will all be...”

“Gone.” Erestor beheld the battered city with sadness, trying to evoke the feelings of joy and 
contentment he had experienced but a couple of hours ago, but now... All was lost. He looked 
at the mortal. “Go with them. I will wait a moment longer, then I will follow you.”

Tuor put a hand on his shoulder. “Do not wait for your friends, Erestor. There is no need for 
you to die also. If they can, they will come.”

Erestor nodded, but did not accept that he would lose everyone he knew. “Just a moment 
longer,” he said, not daring to look at the man lest he should cry.

Finally, Tuor headed into the hidden passage and left Erestor to his dreadful wait. A group of 
elves soon came after, one of them badly wounded, half dragged half carried by the others. 
The young elf knew from the sight of him he would not live. Erestor wept then, bracing his 
back against the wall to stay upright when his legs failed. All he could think about was 
Glorfindel. The beautiful elf with the disarming smile - where was he now? Was he alive still? 
Did he lie bleeding on the muddy ground somewhere? Erestor made up his mind; he could not 
stay any longer.

Running towards the inner wall, he had but one objective. To find Glorfindel, no matter what 
it cost him. Rounding a corner in the street, he ran straight into another elf and they both fell 
hard on their backs. Grunting with pain, he tried to roll over and find his footing.

“Erestor!? Are you mad? I could have skewered you on my blade!”

Ignoring the pain in his tailbone, Erestor bounced off the ground and into Glorfindel’s arms. 
“I was looking for you...I could not leave you,” he sobbed, noting the mess of mud and blood 
on the Noldo’s armour.

“My love...” Glorfindel whispered, pulling the elf away to make eye contact. “I am not about 
to leave you. But I would suggest that we both leave as soon as we can. She will not stand 
much longer.”

Erestor nodded, trying to hold back his tears. The thunder of clashing swords and dying 
screams were crawling closer, the unavoidable doom knocking at the gates of fair Gondolin. 
Not even the mighty eagles would be able to save them from the Balrogs and firedrakes. 
Shaking his head, Erestor still was not ready to believe that all would perish.

“But the others...we cannot leave them here!”

“It’s too late for them, my love,” Glorfindel said, his voice trembling.

Erestor’s eyes widened in horror. “Ecthelion...”

The blonde shook his head, a sorrowful smile on his lips. Erestor bit down the grief, 
swallowed it and stashed it in the far regions of his heart. They did not have time to mourn for 
their friend, and they both knew it. Their eyes communicated what they both felt, and they 
allowed themselves a short moment together before heading back to the entrance of the secret 
passage.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Erestor stopped, looking down at the valley they had left behind. The once-beautiful white 
city stood aflame, the houses collapsed into piles of charred stone. The plains beyond were 
black, strewn with specks of red. Bodies of elves, men and orcs, all blended together in the 
distance. Tears of anger flowed freely down the young elf’s cheeks, the emotional turmoil 
inside him too much to bear. A hand clasped his arm, and a warm voice begged him,

“Don’t look at it, beloved.”

But he could not tear his eyes away. “I thought I was safe. I thought I would never have to see 
this again in my life.”

“I am sorry,” Glorfindel said, still not looking down at the tragedy. “Come.”

Taking one last look at the slaughtered remains of his life, Erestor turned and continued the 
arduous climb up the snowy mountain. The one thing that comforted him was knowing that 
Glorfindel was just a breath behind.

The small group of survivors struggled on the steep mountain. Erestor looked up and saw the 
train of refugees snaking up between the rocks. Right in front of him was Tuor and his family. 
Behind him was only Glorfindel. They were a sad party, moving slowly up, hoping to reach 
relative safety before the night bereft them of all light. Thick clouds veiled the sky for the 
entire day, ashes and fumes covering the valley below. They were trapped in grey. The noise 
from beneath them was a constant reminder of what had taken place, and it seemed to Erestor 
like the sound was coming closer instead of moving farther away. Struggling for traction over 
an icy ledge, Tuor lent him a hand in aid, and he took it. In silence the group moved through a 
perilous mountain pass, walking dangerously close to a ravine deeper than eyes could tell, and 
it would not do to slip. One more incline and they would be free of it.

When starting up that final hill, Erestor noticed the blond Noldo still standing at the bottom.

“Glorfindel?”

The warrior looked at him with dark eyes. “Keep going.”

Something felt wrong, but nonetheless Erestor did as he was told. Halfway up the climb he 
found what the Noldo had been waiting for. A mind-numbing roar echoed between the rocky 
peaks and a wave of heat washed up the mountainside. The women in the front screamed and 
the refugees scattered, running as fast as they could out of the Balrog’s reach. Yet Glorfindel 
stood firm, alone with his sword against the terrifying beast. Erestor was about to run to his 
aid, but arms around his waist held him where he was.

“What are you doing?! Let me go!”

“Leave it, Erestor,” Tuor yelled over the din. “There is nothing you can do.”

“No...let...go!” He struggled, but the mortal was stronger than he thought. His eyes were fixed 
on the enormous beast, now closing in on the lone warrior. “Glorfindel!!!!”

When the battle commenced Erestor froze completely, the horror of watching his beloved go 
up against the demon too much for him. Were it not for the man’s arms around him he may 
well have collapsed in the snow. The flash of the Noldorin sword hitting fire struck a bolt of 
fear through the young elf, and there was nothing he could do but watch as it happened again 
and again and again. The Balrog had a whip that burned as fiercely as its master, and when it 
struck Glorfindel Erestor nearly screamed, but the Noldo was quickly on his feet and forced 
the demon closer to the gorge. The beast did not mind his step, and a hard blow from the elf 
sent him tumbling backwards, falling towards oblivion.

Relief washed through Erestor as Glorfindel turned, their eyes meeting in solace. But it only 
took a fraction of a second for relief to turn to panic when Erestor saw what was about to 
happen. There was a brief flash of terror in Glorfindel’s eyes, and then he was gone.

Erestor didn’t realize he was screaming until the sound of his own voice bounced off the 
mountain walls. In a second that lasted forever, he fought off the restraining mortal and ran 
for the ledge, throwing himself into the snow. On his stomach in the cold he peered down into 
the abyss, but all he saw was darkness.

“Come back...” he sobbed, tears clouding his vision. “Please, come back...” Once again the 
mortal’s arms were around him, lifting him away from the precarious edge. “You said you 
wouldn’t leave me!”

“Come, Erestor! There could be more of them!”

Tuor pulled the distraught elf with him back up the hill, leaving behind the love, the dream, 
and the once fair city of Gondolin.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


In Rivendell, the Chief Advisor awoke in the middle of the night from a heart-wrenching 
scream, only to find it had been his own. He sat in the dark, a quivering shape by the 
headboard of his great bed, arms around his knees and rocking himself slowly back and forth, 
waiting for the shivers to subside. He could still feel the heat radiating from the monster, and 
it took him a moment to understand that he was not in any danger. He was safe and well, far 
away from battles and Balrogs. Once he calmed he shakily got out of bed, walking to the 
balcony doors. He felt as though he were suffocating, and only wanted a breath of air.

Out in the cool night, his legs gave away and he slumped down on the balcony, leaning his 
shoulder against the railing for support. Sobs once again wracked his body, and streams of 
tears wetted the front of his black silk nightshirt.

“Erestor?” a hesitant voice asked. The counsellor looked up at the dark silhouette, trying to 
hold back his sobs. “Are you all right? I thought I heard you call my name.”


-----------------------------

Chapter 6 - Redemption

Watching Elrond pace was like watching an animal in a cage. He only ever did it when he felt 
trapped and didn’t know what else to do. Erestor stayed calmly in his chair, awaiting the 
unavoidable confrontation of releasing the beast. At last the half-elf stopped, seating himself 
behind his desk and folding his fingers together the way he always did when he was about to 
say something sincere. The Chief Counsellor knew every gesture, every expression at the 
Peredhel’s disposal, and was well aware of what he was going to say before he said it.

“I worry about you, Erestor,” he finally said with a sigh. “And Glorfindel certainly would not 
have come to me unless he was worried also. What is this I hear of him finding you 
unconscious on the balcony? And this was apparently not the first time either.”

“I have been experiencing nightmares,” Erestor admitted, keeping his voice smooth and 
professional. He would not permit himself an emotional outburst in front of his lord. At least 
not until he knew what those emotions were.

“Is that all there is?” Elrond asked warily. “My sons came into our bedroom last night, for the 
first time in a decade, and said they had heard a terrible scream from inside the house. They 
were sure it was a monster.” Glancing out the window, he added to himself, “I knew the 
Balrog story was a bad idea...”

Erestor took a deep breath. It was time to come clean, and he knew it. He didn’t have to tell 
Elrond every detail, but the half-elf deserved to know the truth. There was no point in hiding 
it any longer.

“My Lord, I have not been completely forthright with you,” he began.

“Am I about to learn the mystery of my closest friend?” Elrond smiled, leaning forward in his 
chair.

“I have kept this with me too long, meldir. I have kept it from everyone, including myself, for 
so many centuries I had almost forgotten what was truth and what was a lie. But 
recently...things have awakened inside me I didn’t know were there. Memories...things I 
wanted to forget. I am afraid my behaviour these past months has been inexcusable, but I was 
dealing with demons inside myself that no one could help me with. I had to face them on my 
own.”

“Tell me.”

Erestor stood, no longer comfortable under the Peredhel’s scrutiny, and went to stand by the 
window. Summer would soon be over, and every tree and bush in Imladris was heavy with 
fruit. The advisor could see the twins, carrying buckets of colourful berries towards the 
kitchens. No doubt there would be plenty of pies for dessert that evening. They looked so 
happy, holding hands as they hurried after their mother.

“I never had a peaceful childhood,” Erestor said. “I grew up in troubled times, and most of my 
earlier years were spent fleeing from one place to another. My parents became unwilling 
nomads, Morgoth’s creatures forever stalking them. A band of warrior elves showed us the 
way to a secret place, a hidden city where we could be safe. An elven city, invisible to evil 
eyes.”

“Gondolin,” Elrond breathed, standing up and walking to his advisor. “You were there.”

“I was.” Erestor kept looking out the window, the little twins running out with empty buckets 
and scurrying off between the bushes. “I was one of the few lucky ones who made it there 
alive. Our party was ambushed on the way. My father and my older brother were slaughtered 
in the attack. Perhaps if I had been strong enough to hold a sword... But I was not. I clung to 
my mother’s skirt the rest of the way. The King was not happy at all with our presence in 
Gondolin, for its secrecy was meant to be complete, but the warriors had taken pity on us and 
brought us there anyway.”

“Your mother...” Elrond chose his words carefully. “Did you not tell me she died with your 
father?”

“She might as well have,” Erestor snorted. “She succumbed to the sickness as soon as we 
reached safety. It took her only a month to fade away. She lost her beloved and her oldest son. 
I alone was not enough to keep her on Arda.”

“I am sorry.” Elrond put a comforting hand on the counsellor’s shoulder, and for the first time 
during their conversation Erestor looked him in the eye. “Who took care of you?”

“I was passed around.” Sad eyes turned away. “Like the unwanted orphan I was. But after a 
few years someone finally found it in his heart to adopt me. And I was well for a time. I 
thought I would never again have to see my village burned to the ground. No more orcs, no 
more blood. But I was wrong.”

“How old were you when the city fell?”

“56. Barely grown.” Erestor smiled bitterly. “I was old enough to fight, but did not. I could 
only watch as once again I lost everyone I cared about.”

“But you made it out of the city. You lived.”

“Yes. No spectacular war stories, no battling with Balrogs or flying with eagles. Just a long, 
arduous climb up a snowy mountain. The coward’s way out.”

“It is not cowardly to flee when all hope is lost.”

Trying hard to keep his emotions under control, Erestor summoned the last of his strength and 
looked at Elrond.

“Then what do you call the people who stayed and died?”

The half-elf laid an arm over his friend’s shoulders, offering him support as they stood in 
silence by the window. Erestor knew he could never fully understand, and it was useless 
trying to explain it any further. Still, Elrond had fought at Gorgoroth and lost his beloved Gil-
Galad, so maybe there was a part of him that could relate to the grief. Indeed, Elrond’s life 
had not been a completely happy one, and he too had lost many loved ones. Suddenly sad for 
his lord, Erestor wished for his wife and children to always be safe, and the Peredhel spared of 
any more heartache.

On a whim the counsellor embraced his friend, feeling a need to give comfort as much as 
receive.

“I am sorry, Elrond. I should have told you sooner. I simply could not.”

“I understand, my friend.”

They held each other a moment longer, and when they parted Elrond looked at him sternly, 
appearing to recall something he had been meaning to ask.

“Where does Glorfindel fit into all this? He is the one who brought this on, is he not?”

“Yes,” Erestor admitted, sitting down in the window. “Especially his story the other day. It 
brought back...so many bad memories.”

“Did you know him?” Elrond sat down beside him.

“Yes. But I wish you would not tell him that.”

“Why?”

“He does not remember me. Let’s keep it that way for now. You said yourself his mind is still 
fragile, and we should not try to push him to remember.”

“Well, my sons did badger him for months about the Balrog...” Elrond chuckled. “Very well. I 
will not mention this to anyone. But I do hope there will be no more fainting on the balcony.”

“So do I.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Weeks passed and Erestor was desperately trying to sort out his feelings for the blond Noldo. 
There was still a flutter in his heart whenever the warrior smiled, and Erestor caught himself 
spying on him, watching the warrior from afar when he didn’t notice. The dreams stayed 
away, and many of his nights were spent staring up at the shadows moving on the ceiling. His 
work was inexorably neglected, as Glorfindel was the only thing on his mind.

One day he sat on a bench in the garden, noting the cool weather and the first yellow turning 
in the birch leaves, when the blonde walked by. He stopped, looking at Erestor with a playful 
smile.

“Sitting alone again?”

“Is there something wrong with searching solitude, seneschal?”

“No,” the Noldo shook his head. “I merely don’t understand it. I could never stand being 
alone for very long.”

“Then Mandos must have been dreadful for you.” He had not meant to say it aloud, and 
quickly changed the subject. “I have been lonely most of my life, so I assure you I am quite 
used to it.”

Glorfindel only smiled. “Come ride with me. You have not ridden Alagos in days and he’s 
bursting with energy. Let’s go for a ride in the woods.” He held out a hand to Erestor.

“I am not sure...”

“Oh, nonsense!” Glorfindel grinned, grabbing Erestor by the wrist and dragging him towards 
the stables.

In the end Erestor was happy he had gone. It was a lovely day for a ride and the forest was 
full of welcoming scents, a light wind meeting them as they went along. Side by side they 
rode, a dark rider on a dark horse and a bright light upon his white steed, so different and so 
alike. It was a strange feeling of contentment, being so close to Glorfindel, the comfortable 
silence almost a sign that they knew each other well enough not to need words. Erestor took a 
deep breath of forest air, closing his eyes to better feel the breeze on his face.

“I feel so at peace when I’m with you,” the Noldo suddenly said. “Almost like I knew you 
from some heavenly place. Your presence grants my heart serenity.”

Erestor stared at him in shock. “I’m sure you are imagining things, seneschal.”

Glorfindel laughed. A pure, happy, ringing laughter that carried away on the wind, and the 
counsellor felt a whirlwind of emotions storm in his stomach. “I’m sure I am.” Riding on they 
came to far-reaching meadow, and Glorfindel got a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Race me?”

“No,” the advisor said sternly, not about to get drawn into a childish game. 

But before he knew what was happening, the Noldo whispered something to Alagos and he 
suddenly had no choice in the matter. The horses took off, galloping away over the meadow, 
and though initially Erestor was terrified, in a moment he no longer cared. The warrior gave a 
loud cry and urged Asfaloth to go faster, his hair a banner of gold flowing behind him. His 
competitive spirit awakened, Erestor pushed Alagos to go faster as well, determined to pass 
the confident Noldo, which he promptly did.

“That’s the spirit, Erestor!” the blonde shouted, and cheered as they kept racing.

A grove of trees appeared in front of them, and Erestor reached them first, slowing the stallion 
and turning to go back and meet the approaching Noldo. Glorfindel had a broad grin on his 
face as he slowed Asfaloth, and the counsellor realized he was grinning too. He had forgotten 
how much fun it was to ride for the sake of riding. Alagos bounced and snorted happily, 
wanting more. Erestor chuckled and patted his mighty neck.

“Easy, mellonen.”

“You have the most beautiful smile,” Glorfindel said, looking adoringly at the advisor. “I 
don’t understand why you don’t use it more often.”

Erestor sat up straight, trying hard not to blush. “It seems you have adopted the task of 
constantly flattering me, seneschal.”

“Someone had to,” he grinned, turning Asfaloth around. “Race me back?”

“Prepare to lose,” Erestor grinned, kicking his heels.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Autumn drew closer. More trees fell to the spell of oncoming winter, and leaves that were 
green turned to gold. Soon a myriad of warm colours would light the valley into a fiery 
rainbow, and the rustle of leaves would sound around every foot that tread the ground. But not 
quite yet. Erestor allowed himself a few moments every day in the seneschal’s presence, still 
trying to settle his opinion of what he thought he felt. And it was true that every time the 
Noldo smiled, his heart would flutter and a warmth would spread up his neck, but such a 
feeling alone was not something that would trigger the Chief Counsellor into an ill advised 
invite. He was not one to surrender to childish infatuations anymore.

When leaving Gondolin he had left all that he was behind, taking with him only the 
knowledge and experience he had accumulated to become a good advisor to his next lord. He 
had vowed to himself to never again fall rashly in love, never act upon spontaneous emotions, 
and never take peace for granted. He thought that perhaps if he kept everything in his life as 
organized and controlled as possible, very few things could go wrong. Always planning for 
every eventuality, Erestor found it very hard to interact with someone as unpredictable as 
Glorfindel. Even if they were to rediscover their lost love, such a match could never be. They 
were too different.

Still, he could not quite tear his eyes away from the exquisite beauty the blonde possessed. 
Taking every opportunity to sneak a glance, he had to mentally slap himself to regain enough 
dignity to look away. He became a slave to his feelings, torn between his desire and the need 
to protect himself from heartache. Glorfindel was a warrior at heart, though brave as he was 
there was nothing to guarantee that he would remain on Arda this time. What was to stop fate 
from taking him away again? If Erestor allowed himself to fall back in love with the Noldo, 
and he was killed again... The dark elf could not survive losing him a second time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

One evening, as dusk slowly crept over Imladris, Elrond invited his two most valuable assets 
to have tea with him by the fireplace. Erestor could not be certain, but he got the feeling that 
his lord was trying to meddle between the former rivals. The half-elf wanted to see that 
everything was running smoothly, as he always did, and the counsellor prepared his 
diplomatic answers to any questions the Peredhel might have. At first it appeared a simple 
gathering of friends, but it was only a matter of time before that changed.

“So, Erestor,” Elrond began, and the advisor instinctively knew this could not be good. “I 
heard you’ve been speaking with the blacksmith. Having a new weapon made, are you?”

Glorfindel’s baffled expression was not lost on anyone, but Erestor merely crinkled his nose. 
“What if I am?”

“I did not think you took an interest in - what did you call it - ‘the mindless warrior’s shiny 
playthings’.” The blonde was obviously very amused, and took a sip of his tea to hide the grin 
on his face.

“I don’t enjoy fighting, seneschal, but I will if I must. If something should come upon us I 
would prefer to have a weapon of some quality rather than grabbing the nearest sharp object.” 
Erestor calmly poured himself another cup and sat back comfortably in the stuffed chair. “I 
am not without knowledge nor experience, and I probably know more about swords than you 
do, Sire.” He realized he had sounded more conceited than he would have liked, but he could 
not help himself around the smug Noldo.

“He’s quite right,” Elrond said to Glorfindel. “Erestor fought beside me at the battle of the 
Last Alliance, and I assure you, he’s a very capable warrior when he has to be.”

“Really?” Glorfindel grinned. “You have to spar with me someday then, counsellor. I am 
intrigued as to what more there is to learn about you.”

“I am no mystery for you to unravel, seneschal. I am merely an elf, one who prefers books to 
swords, and even though that might be terribly difficult for you to understand, I would beg of 
you to try.”

Elrond looked at bit shocked, seemingly holding his breath for the blonde’s reaction, but as 
usual Glorfindel only grinned.

“Books over swords, eh?” Given a moment to think about it, the smile faded and he began 
staring into the fire. “Now, that reminds me of something Ecthelion used to say.”

“Live by the sword, die by the sword?” Elrond tried.

“No, it was something like...’Those who wield swords...fall upon them’...or something like 
that.” Glorfindel rubbed his eyes, focusing hard. “It’s so silly, I should remember this. It was 
one of the last things he said to me.”

Staring into the fire, Erestor saw a vision of a smouldering demon with a whip of flames. 
“Those who live to wield swords often die with them in hand,” he whispered.

“Precisely!” Glorfindel exclaimed, and Erestor realized he had spoken without thinking again. 
“Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, I...I think I must have read it somewhere.” He tried to hide his face in his teacup, but 
from the corner of his eye he could still tell Glorfindel’s suspicion.

“Well, one could not expect you to keep track of everything you read, Erestor,” Elrond said, 
coming to the rescue of a very grateful elf. “Our dear advisor here has probably read every 
book ever written, and I’m sure that includes books about forging swords.”

“Yes,” Erestor said, glad that the question had been deflected. “And besides, I used to work in 
a forge when I was younger, so I do know a thing or two about it.”

“You? In a forge?” Glorfindel almost laughed. “Now that is something I would pay to see.”

“Why?” Erestor didn’t know why he was offended by that, surely with his age and wisdom he 
should be confident in himself, but there was a small part of him that desperately craved 
validation.

“Well, look at you!” Glorfindel gestured. “You are always so incredibly clean and neat, 
there’s hardly ever as much as a crease in your robes. Your hair is always perfect, not a tangle 
in sight. And I’ve seen your room, Erestor. Every little thing is evenly spaced on the shelves, 
everything straight and carefully placed... I simply cannot imagine you with dirt under your 
fingernails. This summer you would not even swim in the river with the rest of us, afraid to 
get wet and dirty no doubt, and after the twins got a little water on you you dashed off and 
later came to dinner wearing something else. Tell me if I’m wrong.” The Noldo sat back in his 
chair, obviously rather pleased with his appraisal skills.

Erestor swallowed, trying not to let the comments sting his pride. He had to wet his lips 
before he could speak, for his mouth had gone suddenly dry. “Well, seneschal, I can certainly 
not help the way you see me, nor am I dependant on your opinion to be happy with my life, 
but I would much appreciate if you did not see fit to draw conclusions about my personality 
from scattered observations of my hygiene.” He was unable to keep the hurt from his voice 
and promptly the Noldo got a look of regret on his face. “If you...” he turned to Elrond. “If 
you will excuse me I think I will go to bed now.” Without waiting for an answer he put down 
his cup and rose to leave.

“Erestor, wait,” Glorfindel said, but the counsellor was already halfway out the door. “I didn’t 
mean it that way!”

Once outside the room Erestor began running down the hall, not stopping to breathe until he 
was safely locked in his own chamber. He didn’t understand why Glorfindel’s words had 
wounded him so deeply. Perhaps he had been lying when he said he was not dependant on the 
Noldo’s opinion for his happiness. Perhaps his opinion was the only one that mattered. 
Sinking down on the floor with his back against the wall, Erestor thought that perhaps the 
blonde held no affections for him after all. The warrior was merely trying to see how much he 
could ruffle feathers before the advisor protested. Perhaps it was all a game to him. The horse, 
the swim, the race... He was only trying to put creases on the counsellor’s robes.

The realization hit Erestor like a wall of stone and he steeled himself, determined not to shed 
another tear over the self-righteous Noldo.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Counsellor!”

Erestor was taking a walk through the garden when he heard the young elf calling. A tall, thin 
elf with pale hair and grey eyes hurried to catch up with him, and Erestor waited politely. 
There was a carpet of orange and brown leaves covering the path, and they made a delightful 
sound at the young elf’s feet.

“Aglarion, what in Eru’s name is such a hurry?” he asked the elf.

“It is done!” Aglarion smiled. “You have to come and see it.”

Erestor sighed heavily. He had almost forgotten. It had been quite some time since he made 
the request. But he smiled nonetheless, not wanting to disappoint the young apprentice, and 
followed him to the forge. There waited the master blacksmith, a handsome elf with broad 
shoulders, strong arms, and short silvery hair pulled back into a single braid, his face 
appearing grim until he showed his dazzling smile. Sweat and grime covered his face and 
clothing, and he wiped his hands to greet the advisor.

“Do you want to see it?” he asked, and Erestor was not sure whether he should be completely 
honest.

“Of course.”

The blacksmith grinned and turned around, picking up an object wrapped in leather. “My 
young apprentice here has been polishing it all day. We could certainly not hand it over 
wanting.”

Erestor braced himself, accepting the bundle of leather into his hands. The two other elves 
appeared to hold their breath as the advisor carefully unwrapped it. Slowly a shining blade 
was revealed to the counsellor. It was perfect. A handle made from the finest cherry wood and 
bone, details laid in purest mithril, and a beautifully curved blade with inscriptions in ancient 
Noldorin. At the base of the long sword sat a crystal, ice blue in colour, completely merged in 
the steel. Erestor was speechless.

“I know it’s not exactly the design you showed me, master Erestor,” the blacksmith began, 
perceiving the counsellor’s silence as malcontent. “I took some...artistic liberties.”

“No,” Erestor breathed, unable to take his eyes from the sword. “No, Master Elerin. It’s more 
beautiful than anything I could have thought of.”

The smith smiled, relieved, and brought forth the equally beautiful sheath in which the sword 
would rest. “I took the liberty of engraving the sheath with the sword’s name in Sindarin.” He 
handed it to the counsellor, who eagerly received it and ran his fingers over the engravings.

“It’s perfect.” Erestor felt tears prickling his eyes, but quickly blinked them away. “Thank 
you, Master Elerin. I will be eternally in your debt.” He did not have the sense to stop himself 
from embracing the wide-shouldered blacksmith with one arm, holding the precious sword 
close to his chest with the other.

Elerin chuckled and patted the advisor on the back. “I would not say that, my lord. I am sure 
we can come to an arrangement.” Erestor pulled away and looked at the elf. There was a 
mischievous glint in his eye; the blacksmith was well known for his humour, so he could be 
talking about anything. The counsellor could certainly play along.

Playfully, he purred in his most seductive voice. “If you are suggesting I grant you physical 
services in exchange for this...long, shiny object...” he ran his finger up the length of the 
sword, “then I am certain we could agree on a reasonable price.”

In the background, Aglarion dropped something that made a loud crashing noise, and the 
blacksmith fought hard to retain his composure. Leaning in towards the advisor, he 
whispered. “Careful, Counsellor. I might just take you up on that offer.”

Erestor laughed, clasping the elf’s shoulder in a friendly manner. “Jokes aside, meldir. What 
can I do for you?”

“Well...” Elerin stepped back and leaned against the anvil. “I long hoped my son would 
follow in my footsteps, but he has no interest in the forge and now I’m teaching Aglarion 
here.” He looked over at the blushing young elf, now busy picking up pieces of the ceramic 
pitcher he had dropped. The blacksmith sighed deeply. “As much as I don’t like my son’s 
choice, I want him to be happy, you understand?” Erestor nodded. “I am sure an elf as old and 
wise as you has a lot to teach a youngster, am I not right?”

“I see,” the advisor smiled. Sheathing the new blade and folding his arms around it, he 
stepped closer to the blacksmith. “I’ll teach your son whatever he wants, of course. Are you 
sure that’s all the payment you request?” 

Elerin smiled and shrugged. “I’m satisfied if you are.”

Erestor had always liked Elerin. He was kind and easygoing, never wasted one second 
dwelling on the past or worrying for the future. He lived in the present and did as he pleased. 
If nothing else, he was definitely nicer and friendlier than the blacksmith in Gondolin. 
Looking over at Aglarion, the advisor was reminded of himself at a young age, clumsy and 
awkward, just trying to find his place in life.

“Do you enjoy working here, Aglarion?” he asked the young elf.

“Oh, yes, my lord!” he beamed, rising to his full height and laying the broken pitcher on the 
anvil. “I have always wanted to learn the great elven crafts.”

“Hm,” Elerin huffed, letting his fingers play with the ceramic shards. “Perhaps you should 
stay away from pottery, though.”

Aglarion blushed ever so slightly. “That’s what the potter told me...”

Elerin laughed and wrapped an arm around the younger elf. “That’s all right, pen-neth. No 
one can be good at everything. You should taste my cooking.”

There was an immense feeling of connection for Erestor in that moment. He saw it as if it 
were happening now. Himself, young and insecure, looking dotingly upon his teacher, wise 
and beautiful. He was willing to bet his life the young apprentice wished for nothing more 
than to be just like his idol someday. To possess the same unworldly traits that made people 
love him. Although Elerin was hardly the beauty Ecthelion had been, nor did he throw his 
affection at every elf who crossed his path. The blacksmith was a diamond in the rough, and 
kept his love for a precious few. Still, he was the perfect example of the kind of person one 
might wish to be.

Overwhelmed by sudden emotions, Erestor excused himself and made to leave. “Tell your son 
to find me when he is ready,” he said, smiling at the two elves.

“You can expect him soon, then,” Elerin grinned.

Walking back through the garden, Erestor once more wrapped the sword in leather and carried 
it inconspicuously at his side. He did not want anyone else to see it yet. It was supposed to be 
a gift, but he was no longer sure he could give it with a pure heart.


----------------------------

Chapter 7 - Descent

Erestor spent the most part of a day sitting on his bed and staring at the wrapped object 
standing in the corner of his chamber. The beautiful sword... Such a thing was not meant to be 
disguised and stored out of sight. It was meant to be wielded, used, loved and put on display 
for all to see. But the dark haired elf had conflicting emotions about giving it away. He 
certainly couldn’t keep it for himself. He had a perfectly good sword in his weapon chest 
under the bed, sharpened and polished not a month ago. The new blade was meant for 
someone else.

Finally the counsellor made up his mind. No matter how much he disliked the Noldo, he 
stilled owed him for the horse and didn’t want to remain in his debt.

It was a grey, chilly day, and the advisor wrapped himself in a thick black robe, concealing 
the package inside. A swift wind blew through the valley, and he held his robes tightly around 
him to keep the sword hidden from view. Greeting a few elves on the way, he walked towards 
the paddock beyond the stables. Glorfindel was always there this time of day, checking on 
Asfaloth and the other horses. Alagos whinnied as he approached, and Erestor stopped to pet 
his friend, keeping a look out for the blonde.

Soon enough the warrior appeared between the trees, carrying a bucket of water that he sat 
down by the fence. Erestor took a deep breath, held his head high and walked over. This was 
not going to be easy.

“Glorfindel,” he said, purposefully using the Noldo’s name to get his attention.

The blonde looked up, a bit startled, and stood to face him. “Erestor. I hardly noticed you. 
You’re like a shadow.” Glorfindel looked him up and down, no doubt referring to his dark 
clothing, but there was no jesting in his demeanour. On the contrary, he seemed sad.

“Is something wrong, seneschal? You look...weary.”

“It’s nothing,” he smiled tiredly. After a short pause he said, “You never let me apologise for 
my behaviour the other night.”

Erestor forced his face to remain calm. “Then why don’t you do so now?” The wind blew a 
tress of hair across his face, and he lifted a hand to tuck it behind his ear, noting how intently 
the blue eyes followed his actions.

“I am deeply sorry if I offended you, meldir. I was joking, I... I overstepped my bounds. 
Forgive me.”

“You call me friend?” Erestor asked, avoiding the question of forgiveness.

“Should I not?” If there was a possibility Glorfindel could look any sadder, the advisor could 
not conceive it.

“I am certain you and your captains call me worse things behind my back.”

Glorfindel started, shaking his head vigorously and holding his hands up in defence. “I swear 
to you, Erestor, no one speaks ill of you. No one.”

“No?” the advisor said sceptically. “So no one says I’m a wimp in fancy robes, who would 
rather die than get dirt under his fingernails?”

“Of course not!” Glorfindel sighed, bracing himself against the fence. “I was wrong to say 
those things, I know. When we rode to check on the patrol of the northern border yesterday, I 
asked some of my oldest warriors about you, and they were only too happy to tell what an 
exquisite fighter you are. They say you are particularly skilled with the twin knifes. It’s 
only...well, I’ve never seen you practise!”

“That’s because I never practise when I’m seen. It doesn’t mean I don’t practise simply 
because you have not seen me.”

“I know, I’m sorry...”

Glorfindel hid his face in his hands for a moment, and Erestor took this time to think whether 
the Noldo was sincere or if this was another act. He seemed remorseful enough. It was true 
the advisor owned a set of long twin knives, and he had some skill with them. There was a 
secluded glade where he would practise, sometimes in the middle of the night, which would 
not agree with Elrond at all if the half-elf only knew. Even though he could say honestly he 
did not enjoy fighting or take an interest in weaponry, it was in his own best interest if he 
knew how to fight when the time for battle came. Since that day in the Encircling Mountains 
there had not been one time where he had frozen before danger. Not one time where he had 
hesitated before the enemy. Not one time where he had not risked life and limb to protect his 
loved ones. In fact, had it not been for his skill with the blade, Elrond would certainly have 
perished beside his beloved King all those centuries ago.

“I did not come here to argue with you, Glorfindel. I’m tired of arguing.” Glorfindel looked at 
him questioningly. “I came here to settle a score.” Opening his outer robes, he reached inside 
and untied the leather wrapped bundle from his belt.

“What is that?”

“It is yours,” Erestor said, holding out the gift to the warrior.

The blonde gave him a suspicious look that turned to wonder, and slowly the Noldo stepped 
closer, taking the long package into his hands. Blue eyes wandered the length of the leathery 
surface, guessing the content, and then turned to Erestor. For some reason the advisor found 
himself smiling, encouraging Glorfindel to open the gift. Careful fingers undid the laces, 
folded the leather open and revealed the expertly crafted sheath. Erestor watched the blonde’s 
eyes widen and warrior hands easily withdraw the sword from its lair.

In a second all the sadness was gone from Glorfindel’s face. He smiled happily, stepping back 
to take a few practise swings, like a child with a new toy. The gleaming blade made a 
whistling sound through the air as he swung it, and he tested it for balance and edge. Erestor 
saw that he was pleased, and it gave him strange comfort. He was happy that Glorfindel was 
happy. Finally the Noldo returned, grinning at the counsellor while he sheathed the sword. He 
shook his head, speechless, and let his eyes wander over the gift. They stopped on the 
inscription.

“Khelek-Naur...”

“Ice-Flame,” Erestor said. “It is the sword’s name. May it aid you should any Balrogs cross 
your path.”

“Erestor, this...this is amazing. It’s by far the best gift I’ve ever received.” His gaze seemed 
torn between Erestor and the sword. “Is this what you had the blacksmith working on?”

“I owed you. For Alagos.”

“You didn’t have to do that... Besides, this sword is far more valuable than the one I gave for 
the horse.”

“I guess he means more to me than he did to that ranger, then.”

Their eyes met and there was a moment of silence. Erestor wasn’t certain that he truly wanted 
this to be the end of it. They were even, and if he wanted he didn’t have to deal with the 
Noldo again. But he still remembered the feelings he had once had for him. He remembered 
the arms around his chest, the lips on his ear, and the scent of the golden hair under his nose. 
Somewhere deep in his heart, Erestor wanted that back. He didn’t want it to be over and done 
with. He wanted to be loved again.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present, and he looked up into deep, 
sympathetic blue eyes. “Why do you look so sad, Erestor?”

The warmth of the palm through his clothes spread in his body like fire in dry grass. He 
looked down at the strong fingers, calloused from centuries of handling sword and bow, just 
as they were more than three thousand years ago, as if death and rebirth had changed nothing. 
His eyes wandered up the muscled arm, the silvery tunic and the brown jerkin, both smelling 
of horse. An arm that had once held him close, a hand that had once touched him with such 
affection, and fingers that had once tangled in his hair to keep the wind from stealing it. The 
thought brought tears to his eyes.

“Erestor?”

Banishing all rational thoughts from his head, Erestor followed his initial instinct and fell into 
the arms of his lost lover. Wrapping his arms around the muscular torso, he leaned his head on 
the warrior’s shoulder and inhaled the scent of the long flaxen tresses. The smell was just as 
he remembered. Like a tree full of apple blossoms after a heavy spring rain. “Don’t say 
anything,” he whispered, “just let me hold you for a moment.” He felt arms wrapping around 
him in return, and a breath moved the hair at the back of his head. “Thank you.”

Erestor didn’t know how long he stood there, dreaming of a life that was supposed to be 
easier, where he didn’t have to be afraid or make difficult choices. He simply let himself be 
held and pretended that for those few precious moments he knew what it was like to be truly 
loved by someone, the way he used to think he was. But that life, that chance, was gone now. 
All that remained was this shell of the elf he used to love, and the shell of himself the way he 
used to be. They were both too different now, too far apart. It was no use dreaming. This was 
reality.

Slowly backing away, Erestor let go of the Noldo but refused to look at him. There were still 
tears swimming in his eyes, and he dared not meet the piercing blue gaze for no doubt it 
would drown him with pity. Instead he studied the grass and the colourful leaves, 
absentmindedly noticing a tiny brown spider trying to be invisible on a dried maple leaf, 
much like Erestor wished he could be. Change his colour and melt into the background, 
disappearing from the warrior’s view.

“Erestor...are you all right?” Glorfindel’s voice was ripe with empathy.

“No, I don’t believe I am,” he answered, turning around and drying his eyes on a dark sleeve.

Away from inquisitive stares he lifted his head and peered into the gloom. The sun had not 
been seen all day, but he could tell it would be setting soon. It was already getting darker and 
the wind seemed colder somehow, reaching through his robes into his very marrow. He 
shivered, wrapping arms around himself and letting his face be hidden behind ebony hair. 
Trying to think of something to say in explanation to Glorfindel, he was oblivious to the elf 
behind him, and before he knew it he was enclosed in a warm embrace once more. He 
unconsciously pressed back against the warm chest, and let himself be held one more time.

“If there’s anything I can do...” Glorfindel offered. “Anything at all...please, let me know. I 
want to be your friend, Erestor.”

“Are you sure?” It was barely a whisper, but Erestor felt the Noldo stiffen in response so he 
must have heard. “You don’t even know who I am.” 

Feeling tears well up again, he untangled himself and hurried away from the scene. He felt 
confident the blonde would not follow. Knowing what a mess he must look, he hoped no 
other elves would cross his path on the way to his chamber. He had humiliated himself 
enough for one day. All he wanted to do now was crawl into bed and forget any of it had ever 
happened.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

A few days of rain dampened the spirits of every elf in Imladris, especially one who was 
already miserable. Erestor felt his grip on himself slipping, as if he was losing himself in the 
dark. Sitting in the window of his chamber he stared out into the grey, the far naked trees 
hidden behind a veil of falling droplets. The wind carried them diagonally towards the 
ground, where they landed to a sound much like applause, as if the soil was rejoicing at their 
coming. With every puddle forming, with every passing minute, Erestor felt numbness taking 
over his soul. A strange sort of nothingness eating away at him.

Looking down at his hands, the advisor somehow thought they seemed paler and weaker than 
usual. Long, elegantly shaped fingers bore no calluses from war, but merely a suggestion of 
the preferred position of his quill. Sighing, he let his fingertips wander the back of a hand, 
sensing the tiny hills and valleys of muscle, sinew and vein. His mind was blank, and he could 
no longer come up with something to think about. It felt pointless. His existence felt pointless.

Finally submitting to his own uselessness, he stood and pulled on a robe. Perhaps walking 
through the house would ease his suffering. It was the first time he had left his chambers in 
two days. A servant brought him meals and anything else he needed, a reward awaiting the 
young elf’s discretion. Elrond was busy with his family, and Erestor hoped it would stay that 
way. He didn’t have the energy to stand against the Peredhel right now.

The long corridors of the Last Homely House were surprisingly quiet, considering there was 
not an elf outdoors, but every now and then Erestor heard giggling coming from one of the 
residences. Terrible weather always led to romantic escapades indoors. The counsellor tried 
not to let it get to him, and kept on walking. Passing an open door, he saw the twins playing a 
game of blocks on the floor by a balcony. The noise of the rain kept them from discovering 
him, and when the tower of wooden blocks collapsed an argument broke out as to whose fault 
it was. Erestor smiled and left them to the resolution.

When nearing the Hall of Fire, Erestor found out why the rest of the house was so quiet. Most 
of the elves seemed to have congregated there, gathered around the roaring fire, drinking wine 
and playing music. His eyes fell on the young servant, engaged in conversation with a 
beautiful maiden, and he didn’t know whether he should be offended or grateful. Offended 
that no one, not even the servant, told him there was going to be a party, or grateful that the 
servant had the presence of mind to know that the advisor was not in the mood to socialize. 
Either way, Erestor felt too empty to care.

He kept walking, relieved that the chances of running into someone annoying were slim, and 
set out towards his study. There might be a book in there worth reading simply to keep his 
mind occupied. But on his way he had to walk by Elrond’s study, and he was certain he had 
not seen the half-elf in the great hall. The door was open and a light shone from within. He 
was there then. Perhaps there was a chance the counsellor could sneak by unnoticed if Elrond 
was busy. Watching his step carefully, Erestor inched closer.

“I don’t know, Elrond...” It was Glorfindel’s voice, and Erestor froze by the door. “I don’t 
know what else to do. No matter how hard I try, it seems one mistake is enough to make him 
hate me forever.”

“Erestor does not hate you, Glorfindel. He’s merely confused.”

“Confused? About what? What is confusing? Do you know something I do not?” The Noldo 
sounded frustrated.

“Whatever he may have told me he did so in confidence, and I cannot not break that even for 
you. No, my friend, I think there is more to him than he’s told anyone. I believe he only 
granted me pieces of the truth. Why, I don’t know. Perhaps he does not trust me as well as I 
thought he did.”

“But...” Glorfindel sighed. “None of it fits. He is acting like...when he gave me the sword...”

“Yes?”

There was a long pause, and Erestor could hear the Noldo take another frustrated breath. For 
some reason a flash of memory entered his mind, and he knew somehow that he would 
recognize the blonde’s breathing in a crowded room. He remembered the golden hair, floating 
over a white pillow in the dawn light. He remembered the naked chest heaving in sleep, the 
relaxed face tilted his way. And he remembered running his fingertips over that face, 
memorizing every hill and valley of flesh and bone, down the long neck, breastbone and 
stomach. “That tickles,” a voice had said, and blue eyes had smiled at him.

“Nothing. He acted odd, that is all.”

There was movement inside the study and Erestor backed away slightly, but then he heard a 
chair creak and felt safe to move closer again. He knew it was a bad thing to spy on his lord, 
but he reasoned that since they were talking about him it was not too large a betrayal.

“Now someone else is not telling me the truth.” If he was not mistaken, Elrond sounded 
amused. “Don’t worry yourself. He will be well eventually. Patience, meldir.” There was 
another pause and Erestor tried to peer through the hinges of the door to find out what was 
happening. “Shall we not join the others in the Hall of Fire?”

“Very well,” Glorfindel said, standing up. “I don’t suppose Erestor will be there.”

“I think not. But I am certain there are many others who would be happy to see you.”

The Noldo groaned. “As long as I don’t have to tell that damned Balrog story again. Dying 
isn’t very fun, you know.”

Elrond chuckled and the advisor heard them approaching the door. There was nowhere to 
hide, so his only option was really to turn and run, which he promptly did.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Winter was swift approaching and soon frost crept up the windows of the Last Homely 
House. The naked landscape grew into a cold and barren wasteland, its warmth and colour 
forgotten. Erestor was torn within himself. He felt his heart resemble the depressing vision of 
the once green valley, drained of life and joy. When he was not spying on the Noldo from afar 
he was avoiding him completely, keeping out of range of those probing blue eyes. Every time 
they looked at him he felt something new, something frightening happening inside, and he 
could not bear it. Yet he was drawn to the beautiful blonde by some powerful force, and he 
didn’t know how much longer he could resist it.

Giving in was not an option. He had made up his mind. Their ancient love could not be 
salvaged. It would be naught but torture to try and resurrect it. Glorfindel didn’t even 
remember him. What did that say about their love?

“What is the matter, meldir?” Elrond asked as he approached, coming to stand next to his 
advisor by the window. “Your spirits appear unusually low for the season.”

“This is the worst time of year, is it not?” Erestor stared at the gloomy outdoors. “That place 
where colour has left autumn, but snow has not yet fallen to illuminate winter, and all nature 
seems dead.”

“But it is not dead. It lays waiting for spring to waken it. Warmth will return. It always does.” 
Elrond smiled, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Aye, it does. But first it goes through the same thing all over again. The snow melts into 
dirty slush, and all is grey until the first budding leaves appear. No, my friend. Spring is just 
as bad as this.”

Erestor turned and walked over to the bookshelf behind his desk, scanning the backs for a 
particular book. It was a chronicle of the seasons, written by him and kept over hundreds of 
years, enabling him to keep track of the days and weeks that flew him by. He sifted through it, 
his eyes quickly picking up on important bits of information, and finally letting his fingertip 
come to rest on a page concerning winter.

“If we are lucky we’ll have snow in two weeks and be done with this weather,” he said, not 
even aiming his comment at the other elf in the room. “But since the summer was as long as 
in year 14 of the third age, we might not have much snow at all this winter. Though, we’ve 
had very little rain this year...”

“Records, Erestor?” Elrond stepped closer. “I could think of far more amusing activities than 
keeping track of the weather. In the end it doesn’t really matter, does it, old friend?”

Erestor closed the book and put it back on the shelf. “You quite appreciated my opinion on 
the matter when we were trying to decide on the best time to build the crossing bridge. Had 
we started too soon the floods would have washed the whole thing away. As I recall, you were 
quite grateful of my journal then.” He gave his lord a hard glare and sat down behind his desk. 
“If you will excuse me, I have work to do.”

Elrond sighed heavily, moving towards the door. Stopping before exiting, he turned to the 
counsellor. “I have tried having faith in you, Erestor, but you are making it very difficult for 
me. It is true, you do your work as no one else could and I am very grateful to have you in 
Imladris, but I don’t know how to talk to you any longer. I have barely seen you smile in 
months, nor heard you laugh or tell one of your clever jokes. The twins tell me you have 
stopped hugging them, and they ask me if this means you don’t love them anymore. I don’t 
know what to tell them, Erestor. It seems you love nothing anymore.”

The Peredhel turned away, taking a deep breath. “I want my friend back, Erestor. I miss him.”

Left all alone in his dark study, the counsellor broke down and cried.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The number of elves that had to be avoided at all cost kept growing. Erestor could no longer 
face any of the Peredhil family in honesty, and he had dismissed several of the house servants 
simply for being too cheeky. There were times when he feared visiting his horse, suspecting 
there might be other elves in the stables. He had also sent word to Elerin, the blacksmith, 
telling him that now was not a good time to send his son for tutoring. The counsellor made 
sure he was as unreachable as possible, always making himself scarce when he suspected he 
was wanted.

One evening Elrond knocked on his door, and he panicked. Jumping off the balcony he ran 
for the stables, spending the night at Alagos’ feet with hay in his hair and a throb in his ankle. 
He woke in the chilly morning with a wet muzzle on his face, and gently pushed the horse 
away. He didn’t feel like waking. He could hear other elves moving about the stable and 
hoped to the Valar they would not see him. Alagos nudged him in the chest and lightly tugged 
at his clothing, begging him to move.

“What about the big black one?” a voice said. “Alagos. Should we not take him out also?”

The horse raised his head when he heard his name called, peering out of the stall.

“It is Erestor’s horse.” This voice was definitely Glorfindel’s. “Let Erestor take him out.”

“My Lord, the Chief Counsellor has not been here in days. The beast needs exercise.”

There was a warm chuckle, and Erestor felt his face flush where he lay.

“Just because you have not seen him does not mean he has not been here,” Glorfindel said. 
“Here, take Asfaloth outside. I’ll put a blanket on Alagos to keep him warm until the 
counsellor sees to him.”

Erestor stiffened, hearing the other elf leave. It was only a matter of time before the seneschal 
opened the stall gate and saw him lying there in the dirt. In the end there was nothing else he 
could do than curl into a ball and pretend to be invisible, trying to keep his heart from 
thundering so madly.

“Here, Alagos,” Glorfindel crooned, and the stallion happily approached him. “Do you want 
an apple? It’s the last of the season I’m afraid, but I saved it especially for you.”

Peeking through the darkness of hair that covered his face, Erestor watched the blond elf feed 
the horse, gently petting the long face and speaking soft words in Sindarin. Alagos grunted 
delightedly and chewed on the fruit until foam appeared in the corners of his mouth. 
Glorfindel chuckled and kept stroking the stallion’s face.

“You are a fine horse, Alagos.” The Noldo looked thoughtful, and Erestor wondered what he 
was up to. “And your master knows it. He adores you. So why does he not come here 
anymore? I have barely seen him in weeks. Where is he now?”

The horse whinnied loudly and stepped back in the stall, giving Erestor a hard shove in the 
stomach with his head.

“Traitor!” Erestor told the stallion, and clutched his stomach groaning. The horse merely 
seemed happy to finally get a reaction from his limp master.

“Erestor?” The blonde looked quite shocked. “What are you doing down there?”

“Sleeping. What does it look like?” Pretending nothing had happened, he settled back in the 
hay. Alagos snorted and turned his back on the silly elf.

Erestor heard the stall gate open, and next thing he knew he was covered with a warm blanket 
that subsequently was tucked around him. It was rather comforting. A hand stroked the hair 
from his face, and when he looked up he saw Glorfindel sitting beside him. Apparently there 
was no escape.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re sleeping in horse filth?”

“Not particularly.”

“That’s what I thought.” Glorfindel sighed and pulled the blanket up over Erestor’s shoulder. 
“Are you not cold?”

“I’m fine.”

The Noldo petted his hair and stroked down his back, and it did warm him slightly. There was 
something immensely comforting in the touch, and should it go on much longer Erestor would 
surely be purring like a kitten under the blonde’s hand. He closed his eyes and allowed 
himself to enjoy it for a little while longer.

“Do you know how worried you have made everyone?” Glorfindel asked, his voice low and 
smooth. “They say you have been acting strangely for a year now. I thought it was only 
because of me, but...it would seem this odd behaviour of yours began before I even came 
here. From what I hear the entire valley is changed. A lot of people depend on you Erestor, 
and you have let them down.”

“Thank you. I sorely needed a lecture right now,” Erestor commented dryly, but still 
welcomed the soothing touches on his back.

“I don’t mean to cast blame. I am trying to tell you how important you are to the elves of 
Imladris. They have depended on you for two thousand years, they love you, and it hurts them 
to see you changed. Please, Erestor, I am begging you to tell me - to tell someone, anyone - 
what is not well with you. If you do not say, how can anyone help you?”

Finally the counsellor sat up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and leaning back 
against the wall. He looked at the Noldo, searched his infinitely blue eyes for any trace of 
recognition, but there was none to be found. He saw only sympathy and sadness, and it hurt 
him. The notion that he had brought sadness to this happy, carefree creature was more than he 
could bear.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know what is wrong with me or how to help myself. I 
feel like I’m falling constantly deeper down a dark hole, and there is nothing for me to grab 
onto. No means of escape. Nothing to pull me back up.” He shook his head. “I’m not like you. 
I cannot put on a smile and suddenly everything is well again.”

“You think that is what I do?” Erestor shrugged. Glorfindel studied him for a moment, and 
Erestor began to wonder whether he was going to say something more when the Noldo got a 
strange look in his eye. “When you gave me the sword...” he hesitated for a moment, “first 
you hugged me for no reason, and then...you said I don’t even know who you are. What did 
you mean by that?”

“I’d rather not say.”

Glorfindel smiled. “That’s what I thought you might say. It’s all right. I’m still hoping you 
will talk to me some day.” The Noldo stood up and extended a hand to the advisor. “Come on. 
Let’s get you indoors.”


------------------------

Chapter 8 - Frozen

The days felt warmer for a time. The sun showed its face and birds sang in the trees. Gloom 
was absent in Glorfindel’s golden light. Erestor tried his best to fight the fears that had taken 
such a deep seat inside him, and forced himself to step outside his room and be civil to 
everyone he met. Sometimes he would stand in front of the mirror, practising his smile just to 
see if it made him feel better. One morning he joined the family for breakfast, to Elrond’s 
great delight, and took a seat next to the seneschal. Somehow he hoped that the positive 
energy radiating from the Noldo would rub off on him, and there were times when he thought 
it was working.

Then the clouds returned, pale and thick, heavy with the promise of snow. Days grew colder, 
but Erestor felt no need to stay indoors. Instead he felt driven outside, hoping to be there and 
catch the first flakes of winter. He saddled up Alagos early in the mornings and spent all day 
riding. Elrond was only too happy to grant his advisor free time, and Erestor felt an energy 
resurface from deep within. Maybe he was not falling down a bottomless pit after all.

One morning he awoke with promise in his heart. After a quick breakfast he dressed warmly 
and hurried to the stables, where Alagos was pacing frantically in anticipation. “I’m coming, 
meldir,” Erestor smiled, and hurried to saddle him. The frosted grass made a crunching noise 
under the stallion’s great hooves as they rode out of the elven haven.

The forest was serene beyond comprehension, and there was not a sound dwelling between 
the ghostlike trees but the laboured breathing of the trotting horse and the thump of heavy 
hooves. When reaching the top of a hill Erestor made the horse stop. Listening carefully to his 
surroundings, an eerie feeling of dread descended upon him. No birds lingered in the bare 
canopies, no rodents scurried about the ground. He felt Alagos stiffen beneath him, sensing 
his master’s distress. Something felt wrong.

At that precise moment a snowflake landed in the stallion’s black mane, and when he looked 
up Erestor saw the whiteness about to cover the hidden valley. Playful specks of purest white 
fell from the whitest of skies, some of them melting away on the advisor’s warm face, others 
taking a permanent stay on the cold, hard ground. Before long the entire forest was shrouded 
by a thick veil of falling snow, inspiring a thought that the world was crystalline and pristine, 
void of malice and cruelty. It should have been a spectacular moment to be alive.

But in the heart of the elf, a churning sensation of oncoming terror had taken hold, and he 
could not shake the feeling that it was all wrong. Alagos fidgeted, bobbing his head and 
tugging at the reins, furry ears moving from side to side. Erestor couldn’t reason with it, 
couldn’t understand why the forest seemed hostile, but he forced himself to face it. Staring out 
into white nothingness, he dared the dark beyond to fight him. As if it had accepted his 
challenge, he suddenly felt his chest constricted, his ears deafened by some nonexistent 
sound, and the black stallion bolted from the scene with a loud screech.

Erestor didn’t know how he got back, but as he looked upon the familiar outline of the Last 
Homely House he was finally able to breathe again. His blackened sight returned and slowly 
his ears began picking up noises again. Alagos stood still in the courtyard, panting and 
snorting clouds of hot breath into the chilly air. Erestor’s heart still raced, but he shook it off 
and turned the horse towards the stables.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

It took quite some time for the both of them to calm, and Erestor desperately tried to wrap his 
mind around what had happened as he brushed the shiny black coat, soothing the tense horse. 
Inadvertently he ended up soothing himself as well, keeping his body busy to ease his mind. It 
was probably nothing. Perhaps it had been another lingering memory that struck fear into his 
heart. But it had not been snowing that day, when all his fears were realised. Far from it. 
Nonetheless, something had spooked him, and Alagos had been frightened because his master 
was frightened. It was a stupid fluke, nothing more. At least, that’s what Erestor told himself.

Once the stallion had calmed, the advisor left him in the stables. Standing outside, Erestor 
wrapped his arms around himself. The snow no longer seemed a dreadful omen. Here and 
there patches of earth were already white, but it would take a moment longer for winter to 
take hold. Up by the house a group of elflings were scampering, catching snowflakes on their 
little tongues and trying to form snowballs out of the scarce supply on the ground. It was an 
endearing scene, and nothing frightening about it. The experience Erestor had in the woods 
suddenly seemed quite surreal, and he began questioning if anything had truly happened at all.

“Erestor!” Turning around, he saw Glorfindel running towards him. “I thought I wouldn’t 
catch you before you went riding.” The Noldo slowed and came to a halt in front of the 
counsellor.

Erestor tried to keep his voice steady. “No, I...actually I just returned.”

“Now? You must have gone out early then.” Glorfindel appeared to notice something was not 
right with the advisor, but said nothing. “I wanted to talk to you.” He straightened out his 
tunic, clearing his throat and stepping closer, as if he was about to say something important, 
and it made Erestor nervous.

“And what is it that is so urgent you could not wait to tell me?” The counsellor shivered, the 
chilly air affecting him for some reason, and noted the warrior’s smile when he did.

“Look at this,” Glorfindel said, tilting his head to the sky. “It is finally snowing. I haven’t 
seen snow in a long time. Well...you know what I mean. Is it not beautiful?”

“You urgently wanted to speak with me of the weather?” Erestor had no patience for stalling. 
If he didn’t tolerate it from the King of Mirkwood, he wouldn’t tolerate it from Glorfindel.

Glorfindel shook his head, smiling awkwardly. He seemed anxious about something, but 
Erestor could not guess what. Then the smooth face took on a serious expression, and the 
seneschal moved even closer. The dark-haired elf tried to back away, but at once strong hands 
captured his neck and pulled him in. Lips covered his, and the shock of being kissed so 
suddenly left him unable to resist. A soft mouth moved against his, teasing his lips apart and 
laying open the path inside. A sneaky tongue followed, and Erestor found himself welcoming 
it, accepting it and meeting it with his own. Somehow arms wrapped around the Noldo, the 
advisor pressing into his warmth and deepening the kiss that was so long overdue.

Familiar fingers moving in his hair. Familiar scents in his nostrils. Familiar sensations 
exploding in every nerve of his body. It was the happiest moment of his life returned to him, 
and he felt a tear escape the corner of his eye. The softest of lips pressed against his one final 
time before they separated.

“I’m in love with you,” Glorfindel whispered.

“Why?” Erestor swallowed hard and met the azure gaze. “I have been nothing but horrible to 
you since the day you arrived.”

“I don’t know,” Glorfindel grinned, a tearful expression in his eyes. “I feel in my heart that 
there is more to you than what meets the eye. Somehow...I knew I loved you the moment I 
saw you, but I didn’t understand it. It’s as if I was sent here, as though the Valar purposefully 
meant to see us united. I see through you, Erestor. I know that there is a warm and loving elf 
underneath that cold mask of yours. I only hope you will let me meet him someday.”

“I am not some mystery for you to unravel, seneschal,” Erestor said, trying to pry off the 
hands that held his head in place. “I am what I am.”

“And I don’t even know who you are? Or so you keep saying.” Sadness crept onto the 
blonde’s features, and he let go of the advisor. “I don’t understand why you are making this so 
difficult! I’m trying to love you!”

“Perhaps you should not.”

Glorfindel sighed, gathering the elf into his arms and holding him close. Erestor didn’t know 
how much longer he could resist this perpetual onslaught, and he cried in earnest against the 
warrior’s shoulder. How could he speak of love? He didn’t even remember. He didn’t even 
recognise the one he had supposedly loved in his former life, while other memories were as 
clear as crystal. How could he speak of love?

“I am sorry, Erestor. I did not mean to upset you.” Glorfindel petted the raven hair, running 
his fingers over it as he had once done, in another life.

Content with holding each other for a moment, the two elves stood unmoving in silence, and 
Erestor had a chance to collect some of his dignity. Soon enough they were interrupted by a 
loud horn, and Glorfindel reluctantly let go, turning to see what was going on. The advisor 
creased his brow in concern. He had not heard that horn sound in a long time. In a matter of 
seconds a young warrior came running their way.

“Lord Glorfindel! Orcs! Sentries have spotted a whole garrison of them on the southern 
border!” The elf came to a halt. “They are headed this way.”

“Gather the forces,” Glorfindel commanded. “We will leave at once.”

“Aye, my lord.” The warrior nodded and was gone.

The seneschal turned back to Erestor, who had now begun shivering again, remembering his 
intense fear earlier in the woods. “What is the matter, Erestor? You’re shaking.”

“You’re leaving?” was all he managed to say.

“I’ll be back soon,” the Noldo smiled. “I’m not finished talking with you, Chief Counsellor.” 
Grasping the advisor’s arms, he placed a chaste kiss on wary lips. “And I’m still in love with 
you.”

Erestor smiled reluctantly, unable to withstand the blond elf’s charms. “Return to me safely,” 
he said, adjusting the seneschal’s collar. He caught himself doing it and stopped, blushing.

“Do not worry, my love. I am not about to leave you.” Glorfindel affectionately ran his 
fingers over Erestor’s cheek, giving him a long reassuring look before walking away.

“You have said that before.”

Erestor watched the back of the warrior disappear in the snow, not sure if he had spoken out 
loud and if so whether the blonde had heard him. The bone-chilling fear of the morning was 
still fresh in his mind, and the entire situation brought forth older, far more frightening 
memories. The coming of a new season, the discovery of a new love, the sounding of a 
trumpet, an ugly battle, and then - Glorfindel’s unavoidable death. The advisor swayed, 
thinking for a moment he was going to be sick, but he managed to stay the feeling.

Perhaps what he sensed in the forest had not been his imagination after all.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Hours dragged on and on, and there was nothing else Erestor could do than pace back and 
forth at the window of Elrond’s study, hoping to see the warriors return. The Lord of Imladris 
sat calmly behind his desk, studying some letters that had arrived from Lothlórien, and even 
though the half-elf’s passivity annoyed the advisor, at the same time he found his Lord’s 
presence to have a soothing effect. Elrond was a rock. You could always count on him to keep 
a cool head in the most heated situation, and he very rarely threw emotional tantrums the way 
Erestor did. It might lead one to believe the Peredhel was void of emotion, but as anyone who 
ever met him would attest, that was not the case.

Erestor had been there through the best and worst times of Elrond’s life, as a mentor, a 
support, an ally and a friend. He was there when Gil-Galad fell at the foot of Orodruin, when 
Elrond wept as never before. He was there when the new Lord of Imladris married the 
daughter of Galadriel, and when their firstborns came to the world, when Elrond had wept 
with joy and not with sorrow. No matter what happened in their lives, Erestor knew he would 
always be found at Elrond’s side, through better and worse. Had he ever told his friend how 
much he loved him?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Elrond asked with a smile. “Is there something 
coming out of my nose?”

Erestor chuckled, wearily running a hand over his face. “No, Elrond. I was merely thinking.”

“Do not worry for the warriors, my friend. They have handled orcs before.”

“Yes, and some have died ‘handling’ those orcs. I thought the darkness would weaken once 
the Dark Lord was destroyed, but his creatures still roam the lands.” Erestor looked out the 
window, imagining seeing bloodstains on the pure snow. “Sometimes I wonder if Middle-
Earth will ever be free.”

“And sometimes...” Elrond put down the letter he had been reading, his grey eyes staring into 
empty space. “Sometimes I wonder if it was my fault. I had not the power to persuade Isildur, 
and his doom belongs to me as well. I could have stopped him. I could have done something. I 
could have ended it right then and there even if it meant the ruin of us both.”

“What could you have done? Grabbed him and thrown yourself into the fire? You know that 
was not an option. You cannot destroy evil by destroying good as well. What happened was 
only what was meant to be, you know this. Some day, Elrond, we will finish what we started, 
but I think the race of men has yet a lesson to learn before that day comes.”

Elrond smiled, standing and walking over to his counsellor. “I’m glad to see you returning to 
your old self, meldir. You’ve had a rough year.”

“I’m trying, Elrond. I have indeed not been myself for a long time. Bad memories I didn’t 
know I possessed have been waking, brought back to life with our new seneschal, and I have 
not been able to master them. Sometimes they overwhelm me. Like they did this morning.”

“What happened this morning?”

“I was riding the southern woods when it started snowing, and suddenly I had this dreadful 
feeling in the pit of my stomach. Some gruesome premonition that something awful was about 
to happen. Then...I cannot explain it, but it was as if some entity in the forest drove me away, 
piercing my heart with fear. Alagos felt it too. I lost all bearings, I...I couldn’t see, hear, or 
even breathe. Something took a hold of me, and it didn’t let go until I was back here. The 
horse was shaking between my legs. I don’t know what it was, but it frightened the life out of 
me. So you can see how I’m not comfortable with our warriors riding out to battle in the same 
direction.”

“Yes.” Elrond had a thoughtful look, tapping his finger on his upper lip, like he always did 
when he was thinking. “If I didn’t know better I would say it was foresight, but as long as I 
have known you, Erestor, you have never displayed any signs of having the gift. And if it was 
death you met... You describe to me the same sensations I experience when I see death in the 
future, but I have not seen it today. Our warriors will come home safely, I know this.”

“Then let us pray it was a death waiting for the orcs that have invaded our land.” Staring out 
into the darkening landscape, Erestor hoped his Lord was right. “I still feel useless sitting in 
here, while they are out there, protecting us.”

“I know,” Elrond smiled, placing a hand on Erestor’s shoulder. “It never gets easier, stepping 
back and letting someone else fight. But there is no need for the entire valley to march to war 
for a few orcs when we have such talented warriors at our disposal. Relax, my friend. They 
can handle themselves.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

As darkness slowly crept in on the hidden valley, Erestor waited. There had been no word, 
nothing. No messenger or arrow carrying news. Fear resurfaced in the advisor. It was taking 
too long. He tiredly rubbed his eyes and stepped away from the window. As much as he 
anticipated the warriors’ return, he dreaded it all the same. Facing Glorfindel was always a 
challenge, and now apparently the Noldo had discovered feelings for the elf he no longer 
knew. What was to happen with them? Erestor didn’t know what to do. Perhaps he should sit 
down with Glorfindel and tell him the truth. He had wished so deeply the seneschal would 
remember on his own, but maybe that was wishing for something he could never have. All 
that was clear now was that he could not go on like this any longer. It needed to end.

“Erestor?” Elrond came back into the study. “You’re still here? Are you not going to eat 
something?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I think my stomach would refuse it.”

“A lot on your mind?”

“You could say that.”

Elrond smiled and came to stand by his side. “There is something between you and 
Glorfindel, is there not?” Erestor tried to conceal his shock, but didn’t completely succeed. “I 
thought so. I have seen the way he looks at you. I hear it in his voice when he speaks of you. 
He loves you.”

Erestor shook his head. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Why? Because you used to know him when you lived in Gondolin? Was he much different 
then?”

“No. He has not changed at all. He’s the same Glorfindel everyone knew and loved.”

“Did you love him also?”

Erestor gave Elrond a weary look. He didn’t know how much he should tell the half-elf when 
Glorfindel himself was oblivious. None of this seemed fair, and at the moment he didn’t know 
what to answer. He didn’t even know if he loved the Noldo the same way he used to. So many 
things had changed; it was impossible to just pick up where they left off. It was not as simple 
a situation as love him or not.

“As I said. It’s more complicated than that.” He turned and continued his stare out the 
window. “All I want now is for this nagging fear to leave me, and that means I need to see our 
warriors return alive. Glorfindel most of all. I’ve had to watch him die once before, and don’t 
particularly feel like doing it again.”

“You were there?” Elrond breathed, startled. “You saw him fall?”

“Yes.” Erestor kept his eyes fixed on the approaching darkness, hoping against hope the 
fighters would return before blackness conquered the woods, and fought to keep the tears out 
of his eyes. A warm hand landed on his back.

“I will ask no more,” Elrond said empathically, and the rest was silence.

They stood together by the window for a moment, relishing the simple closeness their 
friendship brought. It was eerily quiet, and the hours of waiting for the sounds of horses lead 
Erestor to imagine hearing them. He no longer knew which sounds were real. But then he saw 
them, dark figures against the white ground, horses and their riders coming into the courtyard. 
Erestor stiffened and was about to exclaim something, but Elrond caught breath first.

“I see them too,” the Peredhel said. “Come.”

They left the study and hurried down to greet the party, Erestor nearly out of breath by the 
time his feet landed in snow. He swiftly counted heads, and as far as he saw there was not a 
horse with an empty saddle. Still, he didn’t know the exact number of warriors the seneschal 
had taken with him. One of the captains, an elder named Auros, was the first to dismount and 
approach the elf lords.

“The orcs have been dealt with,” he said simply, but then Auros was not much for fussing 
about.

“How many? Where?” Elrond wanted to know.

“They were well into our lands, lurking in the old quarry by the creek. Must have been five 
dozen, and heavily armed as well. I have no idea how they have been allowed to run 
undetected for so long. We were lucky they never saw the sentries.” Auros brushed off his 
armour, wet grass and snow clinging to the metal.

“No casualties?” Erestor asked, looking around the crowd for a particular face.

“No. We are all accounted for, but there’s the odd limb in need of some...re-attaching, and my 
grandson got the back of an axe rammed into his head, but as far as I know we’re all going to 
live.”

“The healers are waiting for you,” Elrond said, and Erestor released a shuddering breath.

Auros nodded and turned to help a wounded elf off his horse. After a while of searching, 
Erestor and Elrond found the Noldo, still sitting on his horse and peering into the darkness, 
paying no heed to the commotion around him. Lord and advisor looked at each other, 
wondering what was consuming the blond elf’s thoughts. They were joined by one of the 
younger warriors, who had come to dote upon his leader.

“Glorfindel?” Elrond tried. “What are you looking for?”

The Noldo gave them an irate look, then stared back into the darkness. “Just making sure we 
were not followed.”

“Followed?” the young elf burst out. “We slaughtered the lot of them. You, my lord, saw to 
that. If none are alive, how can they follow us?” The Noldo remained silent, and so the 
warrior turned to Erestor. “You should have seen him fight,” he said passionately. “The icy 
flame of his sword slicing through the wretched flesh like a hot knife through butter. He saved 
my life more than once. I believe he saved all of us. It was not a pretty fight, but we prevailed 
because of him.” The youngster looked with rapture upon the blonde, and Erestor could not 
help but smile.

“Come now, Glorfindel,” Elrond said. “I’m sure Asfaloth wants to rest his back.” The horse 
snorted, apparently agreeing with the half-elf, but the Noldo didn’t move.

“My lord?” The young warrior grasped the seneschal’s leg and tried to get his attention, but 
quickly removed his hand. It was covered in blood.

While the youngster stood speechless, Erestor pushed him out of the way and stepped up to 
Glorfindel. Pulling back the cloak and lifting an arm out of the way, the advisor could see a 
broken arrow protruding from the elf’s side. Blood had soaked through his clothes and run 
down his thigh. When listening, Erestor heard the Noldo’s strained breath.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were injured?” he asked angrily, and got only a shrug in 
response. “Get off the horse. Now!”

Auros came over and helped them move Glorfindel to stand, but the Noldo instantly sagged in 
their arms, and it took two warriors to drag him to the Houses of Healing. Erestor had no 
patience for foolish elves who thought they were invincible, and took to harshly ordering 
everyone around until the Noldo was flat on his back. The armour was removed and his tunic 
cut open, revealing a shredded wound in the elf’s abdomen. Orc arrows were never refined 
instruments; their main purpose was to cause as much damage as possible. In the light of the 
healing room, Erestor was struck by the pallor of Glorfindel’s face. He was almost ashen. 
Sweat covered his brow and his gaze was hollow. The relief that had washed over Erestor as 
the warriors returned was stripped away in an instant.

Elrond looked up from his task, his eyes falling on the advisor. “Get everyone out,” he 
ordered. “All of you, please leave us.”

The anxious warriors reluctantly left the room with a last glance at their captain, and Erestor 
exited after them, closing the door and leaving the healers to their work. He dared not think 
about what could happen, but focused on the fact that Glorfindel was safely back in Rivendell 
and in the hands of the most skilled hands on Arda. And he hoped to the Valar they could 
save him.

“That arrow was meant for me,” the young warrior stated distantly, looking at his 
bloodstained hand.

“Come now,” Auros smiled, laying an arm over his shoulders. “Lord Glorfindel will be all 
right. Let’s get you cleaned up.” With a hopeful glance to Erestor, the elder led the young elf 
away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

As Auros had said, there were a couple of broken legs, a sprained wrist, a dislocated shoulder 
and a few other minor injuries to both elf and horse, and Erestor made sure they were all 
helped. Keeping himself busy with caring for others, he could free his mind of worries for the 
Noldo and not think about the dreaded end. Focusing on the task at hand, he did whatever he 
could to assist the healers. All the best ones were working on Glorfindel, which indeed was a 
comforting thought, but it didn’t help the other wounded.

It was late in the night before all was done, and the exhausted counsellor collapsed on a 
cushioned bench in the hallway. The door to Glorfindel’s room was still closed, and no one 
had been seen going in or out. Silence reigned. Erestor leaned his head back against the wall, 
nearly falling asleep on the spot, but hunger kept him awake. He had not eaten since 
breakfast, and his body was reminding him loudly. His head pounded, yet he could not bear 
the thought of leaving the healing wing without knowing what was happening behind the 
silent door.

A hand on his shoulder awakened him, and he realized he must have dozed off. Blinking the 
sleep out of his eyes he looked up at Elrond, who smiled sadly.

“We have done all we can,” the half-elf said. “He lost a lot of blood and needs to rest. You 
should do the same.”

Erestor stood up, stroking a few stray strands of hair from his face. “Can I see him?” Elrond 
nodded. “I will only be a minute,” he assured the tired Peredhel, who was apparently 
concerned for the counsellor’s health as well.

Venturing through the ominous door, Erestor held his breath, bracing himself for horror. The 
room was darker now, a single oil lamp on the nightstand casting shadows on the injured elf’s 
face. The air smelled of cleansing potions and healing herbs. Erestor walked around the bed, 
kneeling at Glorfindel’s side. The fair skin was pale as death and the closed eyes seemed 
sunken, giving the otherwise beautiful elf a haunting look. The covers were pulled up high to 
keep him warm, but Erestor saw the edge of a large bruise on the collarbone. There must have 
been three orcs for every elf in the battle. Erestor thought it was a wonder no one had been 
killed.

Sitting by the bed, he could not tear his eyes from the pitiful form. A bright star that had been 
knocked from the sky and lost its shine. Even the golden hair appeared void of lustre, the 
creature in the bed so unlike an elf that Erestor’s heart twisted with grief. Rolling a lock of 
faded gold between his fingers, he felt none of the silken qualities he remembered, and tears 
filled his eyes. He ran his fingertips over the long neck, where the skin was cold and a pulse 
barely made itself known. Until that moment, the advisor had not faced the possibility; he had 
not truly believed the Noldo would die. But here it was. The indisputable evidence.

At last, a fragile balance was lost and Erestor’s battered emotions could take no more. He 
broke down and cried, releasing every last bit of pent up sorrow and frustration, burying his 
face in the white sheets while sobs wracked his body. Hands rested lightly on Glorfindel’s 
chest, making sure he still breathed, and the broken advisor said a silent prayer to the Valar 
that he would keep breathing. Overcome with strife, the Chief Counsellor collapsed at 
Glorfindel’s side.


--------------------------- 
 
Chapter 9 - Confusion 
 
It was a heavy, dreamless sleep that finally released Erestor and sent him back to the world of 
the living. He woke slowly to the sensation of soft linens under his face, and as awareness 
spread through his body he realized he was not lying down. Still propped against the side of a 
sickbed, the advisor had not moved for the duration of the night. When he opened his eyes the 
light was nearly blinding, and his head already ached. His line of vision was entirely white, 
except for the fleshy contour of an arm resting by his face. A hand was grasped in his, but the 
gesture was not returned. 
 
Erestor groaned as he straightened his neck, trying to shake off the stiffness in his shoulders. 
The Noldo lay unmoving. From what little he could tell, the night had not brought 
improvement, and Glorfindel looked weaker than Erestor had ever seen him. The advisor 
lifted the limp hand to his lips, kissing the soft skin, and it sent a chill down his spine. It was 
still far too cold for his liking. Erestor held it against his cheek, trying feebly to warm it, but 
he felt as if he had nothing to give himself. He felt more exhausted now than he had the night 
before. The tears were never far away. 
 
“Good. You’re awake.” Elrond carefully entered the room. “You can hardly have had a good 
sleep, meldir, but I had not the heart to move you.” 
 
Erestor was going to answer, but his voice had left him. Elrond sat down on the opposite side 
of the bed and began to check his patient. The advisor held onto the chilly hand while the 
healer worked. It was always a wonder to Erestor how someone like Elrond could reach into 
another person and feel them from within, sensing emotional traumas as well as physical 
injuries, and sometimes even heal them with his own strength. Elrond had always been gifted, 
and although gifts could be curses, Erestor envied him. At a time like this, there was nothing 
he wouldn’t do to have the ability to help. 
 
“There has been no change, but at least he still lives,” Elrond stated, pulling the covers a little 
bit higher over the unconscious elf. “He needs more time.” 
 
Erestor sighed, stroking the bare arm of the warrior. “I wish there was something I could do.” 
 
“As do I, my friend, but at the moment you look worse than he does.” The half-elf smiled and 
rose from his seat, stepping around the bed to stand at Erestor’s side. “Come now. The cook is 
waiting for you with a spectacular breakfast. I want you to eat it, and then I want you to go 
straight to bed. I don’t want to see you in here again until you are rested, do you understand?” 
 
“I cannot simply leave him,” he protested weakly, but felt his body ache to follow the 
instructions. 
 
“Someone else can sit with him for a while. I assure you, he will not be left alone.” Elrond 
placed his hands under the counsellor’s arms, gently pulling him upward. “Come along, 
Erestor.” 
 
He stood, but was not quite ready to let go of Glorfindel’s arm. “Do you promise to let me 
know if he wakes up?” 
 
“Of course,” Elrond assured him, gently rubbing the advisor’s back and easing him to let go 
of the wounded elf. 
 
Erestor turned, facing his friend. “Forgive me, Elrond. I know I’ve been difficult lately. So 
many things...have been turned upside down. Apparently I had more repressed memories than 
I thought. Strange, is it not? How one’s mind decides what to remember and what to forget. 
When I first heard that Glorfindel had been brought back to life, all I remembered was intense 
hatred. Resentment. I remembered falling in love with the most compassionate elf, and a 
conceited Glorfindel taking it away from me.” 
 
“But that was not the whole truth?” Elrond looked at him sincerely, hands placed on Erestor’s 
arms in support. 
 
He shook his head. “No. I don’t know how or why, but somehow my mind recalled the events 
that way. Maybe it was my way of surviving his death. Telling myself he was no good 
anyway. Perhaps it was easier, thinking I had lost nothing, when in fact he was my 
everything.” 
 
Elrond had a startled look in his eyes, and the advisor turned away. He felt weakened by the 
half-elf’s powerful presence. Elrond had an air about him that emanated strength and wisdom, 
and anyone around him - no matter how old - would feel like a youngster under his mighty 
wing. He was a true lord of elves. Admirable in every way. Even though Erestor had been his 
mentor once, the counsellor had come to see Elrond as a father figure, which he realized 
would sound crazy if he uttered it aloud, though it was the truth. Standing by Glorfindel’s bed, 
Erestor understood something else. He had those same feelings for Ecthelion once, only his 
adolescent emotional life had confused love with sexuality. But whatever had been, one thing 
remained absolutely certain. Glorfindel was the only one he never looked to for guidance, 
only for love. 
 
“Your everything?” Elrond asked quietly. “Were you really that close?” 
 
Erestor nodded, releasing tired tears. “I loved him, Elrond. I still do. I cannot lose him again. I 
won’t survive.” 
 
The concerned Peredhel offered his arms in embrace and Erestor took them gladly. He didn’t 
often hug his lord and friend, but if there ever was a time he needed it, that time was now. 
Breakfast and sleep sounded like a very good idea. He was too tired to think straight. Even 
leaning his head onto Elrond’s shoulder felt like such an immense relief, he was afraid it 
would be hard to let go. The half-elf petted his hair, much as he did with the twins when 
putting them to bed, and for a moment Erestor put himself in their position, imagining his 
father holding him. He couldn’t even remember his own father’s face anymore. 
 
“It’s all right to cry, Erestor. I have not seen you cry many times in my life, but believe you 
have to let it out in order to heal.” He pulled the advisor away, looking him in the eye. “I want 
you to take care of yourself. Don’t worry about Glorfindel for now; I’ll take care of that. Go 
and eat. Sleep. You will feel better when you wake.” 
 
“I hope so.” Erestor wiped his tears, throwing one last glance at the sleeping blonde. “You 
promise to let me know?” 
 
“I promise.” 
 
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
 
Erestor managed a small breakfast before plunging into bed. When he woke it was after 
midday, and lunch was already waiting on his doorstep. He felt much more hopeful once 
energy returned to his body and mind, and he took his lunch in bed, watching the snowfall 
outside the balcony doors. He paced for a moment, nervous to go back to the Houses of 
Healing, worried when there had been no word. But in his heart he knew that Glorfindel still 
lived. If the Noldo had once more been torn from this world, Erestor would feel it in his soul. 
 
Walking by the tall mirror that stood in a corner, Erestor regarded his reflection. He had never 
considered himself beautiful, even though others had proclaimed it, and saw only a pale figure 
with long, dark hair and sad eyes. Dressed in nothing but his sleeping pants he looked like a 
lost little elf, searching for his parents’ bedroom after waking from a bad dream. In a way that 
was how he felt. Ever since his beloved had died, he had wandered the world a bewildered 
child, searching for a safe place - a place of comfort and acceptance. He had once lost his 
parents, and gradually Ecthelion and Glorfindel had become his family. But then he lost them 
too, and was left stranded in a perilous land with no one to trust. He had not trusted as easily 
the next time, afraid of losing everything all over again. 
 
After Glorfindel’s death he had also taken to wearing black, continuing to do so for centuries, 
and after such a long time it was a routine hard to break. Opening his closet, Erestor sifted 
through dark robes and tunics, clothes he had once told himself were green or blue, but when 
lights were dim it made no difference. They were all black in the end. His favourite long robes 
were dark maroon, but he seldom wore them. He thought it strange now, that he loved all the 
colours of the earth as much as other elves did, but could not bring himself to wear garments 
that reflected their beauty. He had condemned himself to darkness, determined to live a life 
void of colour, as it was void of love. 
 
Stricken by anger, the advisor tore the offensive clothes from the closet and threw them onto 
the floor. A great pile of darkness formed in the room, and Erestor looked at it in disgust. He 
didn’t want to live like a shadow! He wanted to be a bright shining star like the elf he loved! 
He was not going to hide any longer. It was time to bring forth the Erestor Glorfindel had 
once known. Perhaps that would aid his memory. 
 
Underneath the closet the counsellor kept a chest of old clothes, and now he pulled it out, 
opening the dusty lid and sifting through its contents. He could not remember the last time he 
wore anything from it. Eventually his eyes fell on a tunic with wide sleeves, cherry red in 
colour with details laid in purple and blue. It had been a gift once - from whom he didn’t 
remember - and he had never worn it. With pale blue leggings and brown boots, they quite did 
the trick, but as he looked in the mirror one more time there was still something missing. The 
hair. Pulling it back from his face he braided it the way he used to when he lived in Gondolin. 
The way his father had once taught him. 
 
Taking a deep breath, the new Erestor left his chambers and headed for the Houses of 
Healing. Any elf he met on the way stared at him without a word, but he pretended he didn’t 
notice. He was sure they thought him an old fool. Going through a doorway another elf ran 
straight into him, apparently in a hurry, and nearly knocked them both over. 
 
“Mind where you’re going!” Erestor snapped. 
 
“I am so sorry...” the young elf began, but held his tongue when he saw who he was talking 
to. “Master Erestor? I...I didn’t recognize you. You look stunning!” He grinned. 
 
“Thank you,” Erestor said plainly, turning and leaving the elf behind. He felt ridiculous. 
 
He hesitated outside Glorfindel’s door, afraid he wouldn’t like what he saw inside, but he 
braced himself and pushed it open. Elrond and one of his healers stood in conversation, both 
falling quiet and looking up as the advisor entered the room. But Erestor looked to the blond 
Noldo first, still lying as he had hours ago. Unmoving. 
 
“Has there been no change at all?” he asked, and when he didn’t get a reply he turned to the 
healers, both busy with looking him up and down. “Eru, I must look ridiculous!” He 
exclaimed. 
 
“No, Erestor, not at all,” Elrond hastened to say, stepping up to his friend. “It’s only unusual 
to see you looking this...bright.” He smiled warmly. “What is the occasion?” 
 
Erestor sighed, pulling at the tunic. “I suppose I thought...maybe if he saw me the way I used 
to be, it would help him remember.” 
 
The other healer stepped forward, grinning. “If that is how you used to carry yourself, Master 
Erestor, I doubt anyone could forget the sight of you.” Smiling to himself he exited the room, 
leaving a baffled advisor and a very pleased elf lord. 
 
“You do not look ridiculous,” Elrond emphasized, guiding Erestor to the Noldo’s bedside. 
“Sit with him for a while. I feel certain your presence has a healing effect on him.” He moved 
to leave, but stopped in the doorway. “Is that not the tunic Celebrían had made for you to 
wear at our wedding?” 
 
“It is?” Erestor looked down at himself. He had no recollection of that. 
 
“Yes, it is.” Elrond sighed. “I remember she was quite upset when you didn’t wear it. You 
showed up in a black silk robe, which you furiously insisted was indigo.” The half-elf 
chuckled under his breath. “Such is our Erestor.” 
 
“I was not always.” 
 
“I know.” 
 
Erestor sat down in a chair by Glorfindel’s bed, folding his hands in his lap. “Remind me to 
apologise to lady Celebrían later. I’m certain there are more clothes in my chest she has gifted 
me that I’ve never worn.” 
 
“Do not worry, my friend. She is not easily offended any longer. She knows you.” 
 
“No, my lord, she does not. No one does.” 
 
Elrond nodded sympathetically, turning once more to leave. “Oh, and if you truly want to 
please her, I know for a fact that there’s an exquisite new robe waiting for you at the tailor’s. 
My darling wife has not yet had the courage to give it to you. I think she said it was burgundy 
and maroon, lined with gold.” 
 
“Maroon?” 
 
“Your favourite colour.” Elrond smiled as he closed the door behind him. 
 
Erestor felt ashamed that he had been so blind all these years, pushing away those who cared 
about him. They obviously knew him better than he thought they did. Poor Celebrían. She had 
come into Elrond’s life when he and Erestor were already close friends, and in a way perhaps 
the advisor had been suspicious, even hostile to her at first. He hadn’t liked losing Elrond. 
After Gil-Galad died they had been each other’s only support, and once Elrond married, the 
broken counsellor was alone. Of course he didn’t still feel that way, he loved Celebrían and he 
adored the twins. He couldn’t imagine a world without them. With the facts laid out in front 
him this way, he didn’t understand himself. 
 
Drifting off into deep thought, Erestor sat at the Noldo’s side, keeping close watch over his 
sleep and making sure he still drew breath. Like an ancient statue the pale figure laid 
undisturbed, too fragile to be touched, and the silent watcher stayed in his chair. 
 
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
 
Erestor did not rouse from his thoughts until next Elrond appeared. Looking out through the 
window, he determined it must have been hours since he came to sit at the Noldo’s bed. The 
Peredhel carefully entered the room, not wanting to disturb the unconscious elf, and not until 
he was fully through the door did Erestor notice the two little stowaways that clung to his 
robes. The elflings peeked around their father, not quite wanting to see what they had come to 
look at. Erestor smiled at them. 
 
“It’s all right, pyn-neth. Glorfindel is resting.” 
 
Elladan nervously looked up at Elrond, but eventually summoned the courage to approach the 
bed. Elrohir soon followed. They stood side by side, holding hands as they gazed with big 
eyes at the blonde. Elladan hesitantly put out his hand and petted the golden mane, like a 
father would do his child, and it was a sight too endearing for words. Opposite the twins the 
advisor smiled, watching their affection for the fallen warrior. The older brother’s little hand 
petted Glorfindel on the head, finally coming to rest on his shiny brow. 
 
“Ada, he is warm!” Elladan exclaimed. 
 
“He is?” Elrond came to sit on the bed, feeling the Noldo’s face. “Indeed he is.” He looked at 
Erestor. “It seems he has a fever.” 
 
“But Ada, elves don’t get sick!” Elrohir objected. 
 
“Glorfindel is not sick,” Elrond assured him. “He has a wound in his stomach, and orc filth 
has gotten into his blood. Now his body is fighting it. That is a good sign. It means he is 
healing.” 
 
“So,” Elladan said, “it is like a battle in his blood? Elves and orcs, fighting inside him?” 
 
“Precisely,” Elrond beamed, and Erestor could feel the pride over his clever sons. “Now, we 
are going to help those little warrior elves inside him, and clean his wound. Put some fresh 
bandages on. Would you like to watch?” Both elflings nodded happily. “All right, go sit with 
Erestor, I’ll get the supplies.” 
 
It took only seconds for the twins to find a seat on the advisor’s lap, eagerly watching their 
father with the attention of little hawks. Elrond cleaned and dressed the wound while 
answering as many questions as he could through the rain of ideas that fell from young minds. 
Elladan wanted to know about the orc filth, while Elrohir was more interested in the healing 
herbs. There were times when Erestor had to hold onto them with all his might, for they 
nearly fell off his lap in their ambition to look closer. He laughed happily and kissed their 
little heads, relieved from Elrond’s assurance that Glorfindel was healing. 
 
“There,” Elrond said. “Is that not a good bandage?” The twins applauded and their father 
bowed, smiling. “Thank you. Thank you.” Giggling, the elflings ran into their father’s arms 
and he lifted them up with ease, receiving kisses to either side of his face. “All right, my little 
loves. Say goodbye to Glorfindel. Your mother is waiting for you.” 
 
He put them down and they quickly bid their sleeping hero farewell, satisfied that he would be 
better soon, before running off to new adventures. Their cheerfulness had certainly rubbed off 
on Erestor, for he found himself smiling when he looked at the Noldo. Elrond pulled up a 
chair and sat down opposite his advisor, both elves looking at each other in understanding. 
Sweat had broken out on Glorfindel’s fair brow, and the half-elf placed his palm on it, closing 
his eyes in concentration. 
 
“He is indeed improving. I still feel a shadow in his mind, but it is weaker now. He might 
wake at any moment.” 
 
They didn’t have to wait long for the first signs of life. The Noldo stirred, groaning faintly and 
licking his lips. Erestor immediately brought water and tilted the elf’s head up to drink. He 
swallowed easily, and when his head once more rested on the pillow he sighed. Elrond 
moistened a rag and placed it on the sweaty forehead, cooling the feverish patient. Lord and 
advisor looked at each other, exchanging hopes to see blue eyes open and hear a much-missed 
voice speak to them. But their wait was not over. 
 
Not until after darkness had fallen and lanterns lit the small room did the blonde stir again. 
Erestor offered him more water, and he drank. He moved his hand and Erestor held it, 
pressing it against his chest and bidding the Noldo to look at him. Eyelids fluttered but did not 
part, and a few moments later the warrior was once again deep in sleep. The advisor let go of 
the hand, gently putting it down and sitting back in his chair, sighing deeply. All he wanted 
was for Glorfindel to wake up. 
 
“I do not believe there is any point to remaining here,” Elrond said, his hand on the blonde’s 
brow. “He is sleeping a healing sleep now. I doubt he will quicken before morning.” He stood 
from his chair, looking to his counsellor. “Come, Erestor. I’m sure you must be hungry. You 
have been sitting here all day.” 
 
Erestor didn’t want to leave. He had spent too much time building up his hopes and waiting 
for his love to behold him the way he used to, seeing that the old Erestor still lived. But the 
half-elf was right. There was nothing he could do until Glorfindel finally wakened, and it was 
apparent now that it would not happen quite yet. So in the end he went with his lord, leaving 
his wounded lover to the care of another, and he would have succumbed to his disappointment 
had it not been for the support of his friend’s arm around him. 
 
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
 
The early morning sunlight woke Erestor the next day, and he sprang from his bed with an 
energy that surprised even him. Something felt different, new and exciting, and he wasted no 
time getting ready. Wearing the same clothes he had the previous day, braiding his hair the 
same way, he rushed to the Houses of Healing without a thought to breakfast. When entering 
Glorfindel’s room he stopped in his tracks. There was no one there. No healer, no 
patient...even the bedding had been stripped. For a moment Erestor feared the worst, but 
realized that he already knew that Glorfindel lived. That’s why he had awakened so early. 
 
Walking down the hall he quickly found someone that could tell him where the Noldo was. In 
a big room with tall windows Erestor found Elrond, sitting on the side of a wide bed. 
Glorfindel lay in its centre, his face serene and his body relaxed, the golden hair fanned out 
over soft pillows. It only took the advisor one look to see that the unworldly glow that seemed 
to live in him had returned. The blonde had never looked more beautiful. 
 
“Come, Erestor,” Elrond whispered. “Sit down.” The counsellor carefully approached, 
wondering why the half-elf whispered. “He was awake not moments ago. I was just about to 
send for you.” 
 
“Perhaps that is what I felt,” Erestor said, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed. 
 
“He did not speak, but he opened his eyes and moved. He is still not quite lucid. If you’re 
wondering why I moved him, I thought a change of scenery might be welcome. He needs 
light and space to recover.” Elrond pulled the cover down slightly, checking that the bandage 
was not too tight. 
 
“He was always a free spirit, my Glorfindel,” Erestor smiled, glad to see the bruises fading at 
last. “He was always as a wild horse, not to be tamed or contained. He’d rather sleep under 
the night sky than within stone walls. When others ran from the rain he turned his face to the 
sky and laughed. When he smiled the sun would smile with him, and when he ran the winds 
would chase him, as if all the creations of the Valar lived in him. Even death could not defile 
his soul.” 
 
Elrond smiled. “You must truly love him, to speak of him with such words.” 
 
Erestor picked up a limp hand, no longer cold or pale, and put it on his lap. He touched it 
gently, admiring its strength and simple beauty. “Glorfindel is and has always been one of the 
chosen few, destined for greatness. He was a mighty elf long before I was born, and tales of 
his courage still capture the hearts of our young. Anyone who has ever known him loves him. 
How am I any different?” 
 
“He will remember you,” Elrond said firmly, crushing some herbs into a teapot. “He still 
needs time. Who knows what his mind has encountered.” 
 
“And what of my mind? What if I have imagined it all? Perhaps none of it ever happened. 
Perhaps I’m deluding myself. I’ve made mistakes before, Elrond. I thought I knew who I was, 
but I did not. I thought I knew who I loved, but I did not. I have been wrong about many 
things. What if I’m wrong about this? There is no one now that can tell me whether any of my 
memories are true, for all whom I knew are dead or long gone. Glorfindel and I...if he doesn’t 
know me...” 
 
“It’s all right, Erestor.” Elrond grasped his shoulder. “He will remember you.” 
 
The advisor sat quiet with his thoughts while the half-elf busied himself making medicinal 
tea, and before long Erestor felt a twitch in the hand that rested in his lap. He moved closer 
and regarded the sleeping face. The brow creased, and slowly tired eyes opened, blinking 
against the sharp light. Erestor smiled happily, gently turning the face towards him and 
looking into those lost blue eyes. There was no recognition at first, only a bewildered 
expression as the Noldo tried to focus his gaze. 
 
“Glorfindel,” Erestor said in a low voice, stroking a soft cheek. 
 
To the advisor’s surprise, a strange smile spread across the blonde’s features and the hand that 
had rested in his care reached up to cup his face. “It is you,” Glorfindel said hoarsely, and 
drew Elrond’s attention as well. “We made it. We lived.” 
 
The comment confused Erestor. “Made it?” 
 
“Over the mountains.” Glorfindel still smiled his peculiar smile, his eyes only half open as his 
fingers moved on the advisor’s skin. “We survived. For a moment I thought I had fallen. 
Darkness took me. But you saved me, did you not? You pulled me up. You must have. I live.” 
 
Erestor looked at Elrond, and saw in his grey eyes the same thoughts that roamed his own 
mind. The Noldo was delirious. Not able to think of anything to say, the advisor merely 
grasped Glorfindel’s hand and held it between his own. The heavenly blue eyes studied his 
face to the point of absurdity, and he came to wonder what they really saw. At least there was 
a part of Glorfindel’s brain that seemed to remember. 
 
“You are so beautiful, my beloved,” Glorfindel finally said. “Everything I did, I did for you. 
So that you would live and be safe.” 
 
“I did live,” Erestor replied, not sure how to interact with this foreign version of Glorfindel. 
 
“Yes, you did.” His weary gaze wandered the counsellor’s form. “I always liked you in red,” 
he grinned, freeing his hand and laying it upon Erestor’s chest. 
 
Erestor summoned his courage, deciding maybe this was the time to ask some questions. 
“Who am I, Glorfindel?” 
 
The Noldo sighed, still smiling. “You are my beloved. You are the feisty little elf I found in 
the snow.” 
 
“What is my name?” 
 
“Silly question,” Glorfindel chuckled. “Your name is...” He paused, and the smile vanished 
from his face. “Your name...is...” 
 
“Erestor?” the counsellor tried, but the blonde shook his head. 
 
“No...but something similar.” Glorfindel frowned, closing his eyes. “I’ve never been good 
with names.” He turned away from Erestor, and when he opened his eyes saw Elrond and 
flinched. “What are you doing here?” 
 
“This is my house,” Elrond smiled. 
 
Glorfindel pulled back, confused, and glanced worriedly at Erestor before returning his gaze 
to the half-elf. “My lord...how can we be in your house? How can you be here?” 
 
“Calm down, Glorfindel.” 
 
The Noldo shook his head and turned to Erestor. “No, this cannot be. He is dead. I watched 
him die. He cannot be here. Am I dead too? Are we all dead?” 
 
“Shh...” Erestor crooned, gently pushing Glorfindel back against the pillows. “What do you 
mean you watched him die?” 
 
“King Turgon...I saw his tower fall.” The blonde sighed tiredly, his eyes drifting shut. 
 
“Glorfindel, look at me,” Erestor demanded, and the Noldo obliged. “My name is Erestor, I 
am Chief Counsellor of Imladris, and this is Elrond Peredhel, its Lord. Do you not remember? 
You did die on that mountain. You fell, and I could not save you. It’s been three thousand and 
seven hundred years since then, but the Valar has granted you life once more and sent you 
here, to us. Do you not see, Glorfindel? Do you not remember?” 
 
The blonde frowned, closing his eyes and turning away. “You lie.” 
 
“Enough, Erestor,” Elrond begged. “He is in no state for this.” The half-elf poured a cup of 
tea, which he made Glorfindel drink, and soon the Noldo was drifting back into sleep. 
 
The advisor left the bed and paced the room, not sure what to make of the warrior’s jumbled 
memories. Did he remember nothing now? What would happen to them? He was starting to 
lose faith that he and Glorfindel would ever be together. As soon as the Noldo slept Elrond 
was at his friend’s side, calmly reassuring him that everything would be fine as soon as 
Glorfindel had recovered. 
 
“Do not listen to the ramblings of a feverish mind. When his body heals this will be nothing 
more than a dream.” 
 
“And he will go back to not remembering me at all?” 
 
“I thought patience was one of your virtues,” Elrond jested, laying an arm across his friend’s 
shoulders. 
 
“I can be patient with children, animals, and foolish counsellors, Elrond. But there are some 
things I will never be patient with.” 
 
“Thranduil?” the half-elf smiled. 
 
“He is one of them, yes,” Erestor chuckled tiredly, rubbing his eyes. There was something 
about Glorfindel in this state that drained him. 
 
“Have you had breakfast yet?” The counsellor shook his head. “Neither have I. Care to join 
me?” 
 
“Any day, old friend,” Erestor smiled, following his lord to the door. 
 
“Old? I’m younger than you.” 
 
“Yes, but you look older.” 
 
“I do not!” 
 
“Forgive me, my lord, but I’m afraid you do.” They both chuckled. 
 
“Do I really look like King Turgon?” 
 
“A little bit, yes.” 
 
“Really? I did not know that.” 
 
“He looked younger than you, though.” 
 
“I am NOT old!” 
 
“I never said you were old, only that you look old.” 
 
“Know-it-all.” 
 
“Half-elf.” 
 
They giggled at themselves, acting like youngsters before breakfast, and entered the dining 
room in a cheerful mood, enjoying the morning in each other’s company. Spending time with 
Elrond gave Erestor hope for the future, and also made him remember what he had liked so 
much about the Peredhel when they first met. Their friendship had matured through the 
millennia, but it was far from changed and Erestor saw that now. He had never lost his friend, 
not to King Ereinion and not to Lady Celebrían. Their bond would always be there, and no 
other bond they made could undo it. 
 
“Elrond?” 
 
“Yes?” The half-elf put down his teacup and looked at his friend and advisor, waiting for him 
to speak. 
 
Erestor knew the time had come to say what he had never said. He needed to confess. “I know 
that I have sometimes been distant and hard to reach. I lied about my past to avoid answering 
questions, and I’ve kept my innermost self from the people that care about me. I’ve hidden 
myself and my feelings, and regret it deeply.” 
 
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Erestor. We all have our demons.” 
 
“I only want you to know, that in spite of my stiff demeanour, I do love you.” 
 
Elrond regarded his advisor for a moment, his face unreadable, until Erestor began feeling 
uncomfortable with the silence. Just when he was about to say something, anything to break 
the tension, Elrond spoke. 
 
“Did you think I didn’t know that, Erestor? I have known you a long time, and even though 
you rarely disclose your emotions with words, I read them plainly on your face. This last year 
I have discovered a whole new range of emotion within you, that is true, and I have struggled 
to understand you. But I know you love me, my friend. I know you love my wife and my 
children, and we love you. There would be no Imladris without you, Erestor.” 
 
Erestor smiled, his heart rejoicing at Elrond’s words. “There was a time when I was very open 
and trusting, but many things changed after Glorfindel died. Perhaps I should try harder to 
trust again.” 
 
“Nothing would make me happier than to see you emerge from your shell, meldir, but know 
that we love you the way you are.” Elrond smiled and took his hand, and for the first time in a 
long while, Erestor truly felt like part of the family. 


----------------------------

Chapter 10 - Revelation

The day seemed endless. Several times Erestor visited the Noldo, and every time he was 
sleeping. Erestor didn’t know where to go or what to do, and idly wandered the Last Homely 
House. Winter night fell early, and before it was time for supper the advisor came upon the 
twins’ room. The door was wide open and the room was in chaos. Pillows and quilts and 
cushions were everywhere, and not all of them belonged in the elflings’ room. Some, Erestor 
concluded, originated from the Hall of Fire, and others he recognised from the sofa that stood 
in Elrond’s bedchamber. Not knowing what to make of it, Erestor stepped inside, wondering 
whether he should be worried.

He saw movement under a blanket and lifted it up, revealing two small shapes, sitting in the 
dark with large eyes.

“And what are you doing?” he asked, his face stern over contained laughter.

“We’ve built a fortress!” Elladan beamed. “Are you angry?”

Erestor looked around, pretending to consider it. “Is that my bedspread?”

“We were going to put it back!” Elrohir hurried to say.

“Very well. But why did you need to build a fortress?”

“To hide from the Balrog, of course,” Elladan told him.

“Ah. So there’s a monster roaming about?” The twins nodded, smiling. “Well, I would not 
want to be caught out here alone if he shows up, then. Will you let me inside?”

“What’s the password?” Elrohir demanded.

“Hm...how about: Let me in or I’ll tell your mother you used her new drapes to fend off 
Balrogs.”

The brothers looked at each other and snickered. “Come in, Erestor. You can be our dog.”

“Your dog?” Erestor laughed as he climbed inside pillow walls. “It had better be a mean 
dog...”

He closed the blanket over their heads and happily shared their little secrets, enjoying simply 
sitting there and watching them play. When it grew too dark he lit an oil lamp nearby, letting 
a bit of light into their fortress. Then he proceeded to tell the twins the tale of Huan, the great 
hound of Valinor that came to the aid of Lúthien and Beren, fighting wargs and wolves and 
even defeating Sauron himself at his own gates. The little faces shone with interest, their eyes 
dark and round with amazement. Erestor embellished the story as best he could and told with 
great feeling how Huan had slain Carcharoth, Morgoth’s most frightening werewolf, and 
retrieved the devoured silmaril from his belly. The twins sat in quiet awe, and jumped with 
fright when a loud bang sounded in the room.

“It’s the Balrog!” Elrohir squealed, and his brother hugged him tightly.

“What is going on in here?” Elrond called in his most stern voice.

Erestor smiled at the twins before lifting the blanket and peeking out. “We’ve built a 
fortress!” he called. “And you’re not coming in without the password!”

Elrond approached, his stern face laced with humour. “Password? How about: You better 
have this mess cleaned up before supper or you’re all going to bed hungry.”

“Ada...” the boys whined in unison, looking up at their father with big eyes. “We can clean up 
after.”

“No,” Elrond said. “Now hurry up if you want to eat. And don’t tell your mother you used her 
new drapes.” The elflings reluctantly began tearing down their fortress, and Elrond smiled 
behind their backs at his friend. “Did you really help them with this?”

“No, but I thought it looked like fun.” Erestor grinned and stood, stretching his legs. “Has 
there been any word of Glorfindel?”

“He sleeps still. But you look happy, meldir.” Elrond gave him a look full of emotions, then 
glanced over at his sons, now engaged in a pillow fight. “Stop that!” The children apologised 
and returned to their task, their father gazing at them lovingly. “Such little troublemakers. I 
can’t wait for them to reach adolescence,” he said ironically, turning to leave.

“I am Huan!” Elladan yelled, and lunged at his brother, tumbling them over on the collapsed 
fortress. They giggled and wrestled around in the mess, and it was clear Elrond thought it 
futile to tell them again.

Erestor received a glance from the half-elf, and knew that he had once again been caught 
telling the elflings stories that would haunt their dreams. “I’ll help them,” he said humbly, and 
Elrond nodded before leaving.

“I am Carcharoth!” Erestor yelled, and began chasing the twins around the room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

After a supper of enduring the twins’ never ending talk of hounds and wolves, a tired Elrond 
gave Erestor the punishment - and privilege - of putting them to bed. It took forever, and he 
had to withstand much begging for more stories, but consistently resisted their innocent pleas. 
Finally they yawned and began to doze off, nestled together under the covers. Erestor kissed 
their heads affectionately, grateful that such lively spirits would grow up together. As a child 
there was nothing he wouldn’t have done to have his brother at his side, but fate wanted 
differently. Seeing the Peredhil twins snuggle up against each other he envied them, but was 
thankful they would always have someone at their side. Never to be alone...what a wonderful 
gift.

He left their room with a smile on his lips and wandered the empty hallway consumed with 
thought. In the end he left the house and stepped out under the stars. It had stopped snowing 
and all was still. His warm breath visible in front of him, Erestor stood in the courtyard, 
looking up at the sky. He wondered if Eärendil was up there somewhere, looking down at his 
children with pride. Glancing over at the Houses of Healing, the advisor thought that maybe it 
was time for another visit.

The room was dark, but Erestor saw that the blonde still slept. Stepping closer, he noticed 
something was different. The Noldo was not unconscious in sickness, but rested peacefully on 
the bed with his arms flung over the pillows. The counsellor drew closer, entranced by the 
sight of him, and sat down on the side of the bed. His hand automatically reached for the 
golden head, stroking the soft hair from the sleeping face. Glorfindel’s skin was warm, all 
signs of blood loss and fever gone. Erestor thought of the twins, cuddled up together in their 
common bed, and wanted nothing more than to do the same.

Making sure he was alone, Erestor closed the door and returned to the Noldo’s side. He 
crawled onto the bed and lay down next to Glorfindel, resting his head on an outstretched 
arm. Snuggling close to the warm body, he never took his eyes off the quiet face. Soon he 
could feel breath against his cheeks and a heartbeat under his palm, and when he closed his 
eyes he saw himself somewhere else. Even this was a familiar feeling and he got to wondering 
if he had fallen asleep like this before, but his mind did not have the opportunity to explore 
that thought, for soon he had indeed fallen into reverie.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The night was cold and the fire that warmed him had long since died, making him shiver 
under the thin blanket that was his only shelter. Erestor stirred reluctantly, curling his legs 
under him and sitting up on the cushioned sofa. He looked around, but all was dark and quiet. 
He was starting to regret insisting on sleeping here, for he was never able to make the fire last 
all night. Tired and quivering the young elf got up, wrapped the blanket around himself and 
padded off down the hall of the House of the Golden Flower.

He was not sure precisely where Glorfindel’s private chambers were, but he needed to find 
some other place to sleep, whether by the lord’s will or not. He had slept on the sofa many 
nights now, still not comfortable going back to Ecthelion’s house after what had happened, 
and even though the blond warrior had offered him a room of his own he could not accept it. 
He still thought he would eventually go back to his place in the House of the Fountain, but in 
this moment he would have done anything for a warm bed in a warm room.

Remembering something Glorfindel had once told him, he noticed a painting at the end of a 
hallway and knew which door led to the lord’s room. He knocked gently at first, not expecting 
an answer, and he was afraid he would disturb the blonde’s sleep but was too cold to hesitate. 
In a matter of seconds, however, the tall Noldo opened his door, surprise plain to see on his 
face. He was wearing only thin sleeping pants, and looking inside the bright room Erestor 
knew there was a fire still burning, and a book lay upturned on the stirred bedding.

“Erestor, what is the matter?”

“Am I disturbing you, my lord?” He tried to hide the fact that his teeth clattered when he 
spoke.

“No, no, don’t be silly. I was only reading. By all means, come inside. You’re practically 
blue.” Glorfindel stepped aside and let him in, and Erestor was instantly drawn to the heat 
radiating from the fireplace.

“The fire had gone out, and I was really cold, so I was wondering...” He stopped talking when 
warm arms embraced him from behind, and after a few seconds he was able to relax, letting 
go of the shudders that wracked him. He leaned back against the warm chest, the same way he 
had done that day in the snow, and Glorfindel held him until all his worries were gone.

“You can sleep in here if you like,” the smooth voice tickled his ear, and a strange sensation 
awoke in his stomach.

“I would like that very much.” Erestor turned, looking into sparkling blue eyes. “So, what 
exactly was I interrupting? You said you were reading.”

Glorfindel smiled and stepped over to the bed, picked up the book that lay open and sat down. 
Erestor followed and took seat beside him. Looking over, he saw that he did not recognize the 
book in the Noldo’s hands. It did not come from the library. A tattered book with a worn, red 
cover, erratic handwriting covering the pages. He could not help but wonder where it came 
from.

“It is a diary,” Glorfindel said. “It belonged to a warrior I once met. He carried it in his 
saddlebags and wrote of his life in it. He is dead now, but I can still marvel at the things he 
saw. His writing is hardly educated or refined, but there is power in his words. Simple and 
passionate are his stories, yet his name is not one that will live on through tales and myths. He 
never married and had no children, so this journal is all that is left of him. Perhaps that is why 
he wrote it.”

“Will you let me read it some day?”

Glorfindel smiled and closed the book. “Of course. I could think of no one better to share his 
tale.” He handed it to Erestor and crawled into bed, watching closely as the young elf sifted 
through the cluttered pages. “Are you not tired, Erestor? You were exhausted earlier. I could 
hardly keep you awake during supper.” The Noldo rested heavily on his pillow, and his eyes 
were drifting shut.

“I apologise for disturbing you, my lord. I’m sure you want to sleep.” Erestor put the book on 
the nightstand and stood, wondering where he should sleep. The sparsely decorated chamber 
had but a large chair and a rug in front of the hearth, and Erestor only had his blanket. He was 
about to ask Glorfindel where to lie when a hand grasped his wrist.

“I would not make you sleep on the floor, pen-neth. There is room for two in this bed.” He 
was about to protest in the name of good manners, but realized he didn’t want to. The soft bed 
was too inviting, and he fell into it without objections. “There we go,” Glorfindel smiled, and 
pulled him closer. “Is that not better?”

“Well, it’s certainly warm,” Erestor agreed, yawning tiredly as Glorfindel pulled the covers 
over them.

“Good. I don’t want you to ever be cold.” The warrior petted him on the cheek, and the young 
elf snuggled into his embrace, soaking up heat from the strong body.

And so it was, that with a smile on his lips Erestor fell asleep in the arms of another elf for the 
first time since his father died, and for the first time he had true peace in his heart. He did not 
know then what the future would bring, but he was content merely existing. Warrior arms 
around him were all that mattered, and for some time they remained just that. Many nights 
followed when they fell asleep entangled, sometimes fully clothed in front of the fireplace, 
other times naked under fine sheets, but always with their arms around each other. And in his 
heart, Erestor began to discover the true meaning of love.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Reluctantly, Erestor was parted from his dream. But as he woke it was as if the experience 
came back to him. He still felt that warm body close to his, the soft skin under his fingers, the 
slow breath moving his hair. The advisor blinked the sleep from his eyes, letting them wander 
the foreign surroundings. It took a few seconds before he realized where he was and why, but 
once he did he relaxed. His head was on Glorfindel’s shoulder, the broad, muscular chest 
heaving before his gaze. An arm held him close and a cheek rested atop his head. It was a 
very pleasant, familiar feeling. A place Erestor never thought he would be again.

“Good morning, Chief Counsellor,” a chirpy voice said, and the head above his moved. “To 
what do I owe the pleasure of finding you in my bed?”

Erestor pulled back and was faced with clear, blue eyes and a dashing smile. “So you 
recognise me now?” He sat up, smoothing his hair back and looking out the window. It was 
indeed morning, and it was snowing again.

“What do you mean?” Glorfindel grunted as he made to sit back against the headboard, 
grasping at his wound. “Did I not recognise you before?”

“You had a fever. You were delirious. Elrond was sitting at your bed and you nearly had a fit 
since you thought he was King Turgon returned to haunt you.”

Glorfindel laughed, but quickly stopped and held his wound again. It would take some time 
before it was fully healed. Finally, the Noldo leaned back, sighing deeply.

“I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you don’t,” Erestor commented, more to himself than to Glorfindel, and stood 
from the bed. “You’re memory isn’t what it once was, is it?”

“What do you mean? I have a great memory. I’m simply not that good with names. I still have 
not learned all the names of the warriors. It’s embarrassing having to yell ‘guard’ when I need 
someone.” Glorfindel had a resigned look in his eyes, carefully rubbing over the bandages.

“Should I get Elrond?”

“Something tells me he will be here soon. In the meantime, would you care to explain why 
you’re snapping at me again?”

“I’m not snapping at you.”

“No? You certainly fooled me. What have I done to make you angry this time?”

“Nearly getting yourself killed for a start!” he shouted, and the Noldo wouldn’t meet his eyes. 
Weary of the whole situation, Erestor sat down on the edge of the bed again, his back to 
Glorfindel and his eyes on the wall. He should be happy that the blonde was better, but he 
wasn’t. They were still strangers to each other. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to shout. I will fetch 
Elrond and he can have a look at your wound.” He rose to leave.

“Erestor?” The advisor turned. “You look...different somehow.”

Erestor smiled sadly. “I am still me.”

He left the Houses of Healing without looking back, and as he saw Elrond already on his way 
there was no need to tell him anything. Erestor went straight to his room, took off his clothes 
and let his hair down, slipping into a hot bath. He let the water cleanse him, body and mind, 
and he forced all thought from his head. Leaning back in the wooden tub, he closed his eyes 
and willed all his feelings to go away. For a few precious moments, he wanted to be able to sit 
in peace and not feel the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Only a few moments to 
himself, without demands or responsibilities. A few moments when he too could forget.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Erestor did not go back to the Houses of Healing. He couldn’t bear the thought of standing 
before the elf that used to be his lover, and be addressed as Chief Counsellor one more time. 
After dressing in a plain tunic, he took his breakfast with Celebrían and the elflings, and the 
lady regarded him with a strange look in her eyes. Erestor tried to ignore it, and instead 
focused on the twins’ happy chatter. The young ones could not wait to finish breakfast and go 
out to play in the snow, but all Erestor wanted to do with his day was sit by the fire with a cup 
of tea and a book. Now that Glorfindel was well there was no need for him to wait on the 
Noldo.

“Nana, can we go now?” Elladan begged with his mouth full of bread.

“Finishing your breakfast includes chewing and swallowing, meleth,” Lady Celebrían said 
patiently, shooting Erestor a smile across the table.

“Where is Ada?” Elrohir asked, calmly trying to skewer an uncooperative piece of pickled 
fruit with his fork.

“He is tending to Glorfindel,” she answered. “I’m sure the seneschal would like to see both of 
you later. Why don’t you visit him?”

“We will,” Elladan said, still chewing. “We are going to build a snow man outside his 
window, so when he gets back to his own room he’ll have some company.”

“That sounds nice.” Celebrían petted her son’s hair. “What are you going to do today, 
Erestor?”

The advisor shook his head. “Nothing. I intend to do nothing at all today.”

“That sounds nice too,” she smiled. “If you are not too busy doing nothing, there is something 
I’d like you to do for me.”

“Of course, my lady.” He smiled at her, pouring some more tea for himself.

After the elflings had finished what was left on their plates and Elladan had dragged his little 
brother outside, Celebrían gave the advisor a mysterious smile and stood, walking over to a 
chair at the far end of the room. On it lay an innocuous looking package, which the lady 
picked up and hugged to her chest, returning to her seat. She placed it on the table, sliding it 
over to Erestor, who eyed it suspiciously.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked.

“I know that Elrond told you,” she said, “but I would very much like to see it on you. I know 
you haven’t worn any of the other clothes I’ve given you, but it seems like you need a new 
beginning. I feel the difference in you, Erestor. Take this as a sign. Seasons are changing.”

Suddenly nervous, Erestor unwrapped the present. As he expected, it was the new robes he 
had been told of, but it was nothing like he imagined. The colours fit perfectly together, like 
an autumn tree dressed in many leaves from hot red to fiery gold, a rainbow of the earth. The 
counsellor stood, holding the garment up to look at it. Maroon and burgundy, lined with gold, 
just as Elrond had said. One look to the lady and she could tell he was speechless.

“Why don’t you try it on?” she suggested, smiling happily.

Erestor could do nothing else than comply. Left at the she-elf’s mercy, he was ushered to his 
chambers and soon stood dressed and proper, his hair braided into a silver circlet, and he did 
not even find the breath to protest. After all, he owed her for the wedding. It was nice to see 
her smiling enthusiastically and hear her merry chatter. Erestor could not help but grin to 
himself, at last knowing for certain where the twins got that particular trait, and it made him 
wonder from which of her parents Celebrían had inherited the same. 

“Look at you,” she said, dragging Erestor over to the large mirror in his room. “If I had my 
way you would look like this every day, and not shroud yourself in black like an ominous 
crow.”

“For you, my lady, I will try,” he said, feeling a bit better about himself. The sight in the 
mirror was far from anything he had seen before, and he had to admit he liked it.

Soon her attention was drawn to other things, and Erestor was left to himself, walking around 
in his new robes and getting a feel for them. It was quite pleasant, and the response he got 
from other elves seemed more than worth it. Some of the younger elves he was sure were 
afraid of him now approached him with ease. But that might have more to do with the smile 
on his face rather than the clothes on his back. His new appearance did give him a new 
confidence as well.

In the end he did what he had planned to do all day, and seated himself in front of the 
fireplace in the library, a cup of tea and a book at his disposal. He let his mind wander and 
drifted off into his world of imagination, shutting out any concerns that might cloud his 
thoughts. But a slight creak in the door and silent footsteps brought him back to reality. He 
was not alone. Not wanting to let on he was aware, he didn’t turn, but tried to discern who it 
was from the footsteps. Elrond’s walk would be brisker, Celebrían’s lighter, and none of the 
servants would dare sneak up on him. Finally he had no choice but to see for himself.

“Glorfindel? What are you doing up?” 

Erestor immediately put his book down and got up from the chair. The Noldo was clean and 
dressed, his hair braided and combed, yet he carried his left arm close to his side, pressed 
across his waist where the wound lay hidden under bandages and cloth. The expression on his 
face was stunned, confused even, and very tired. The advisor approached him with caution, 
not sure what was going on.

“Erestor...I didn’t realize it was you. But I’m glad you were here. We need to talk.”

“You should not be walking around,” Erestor said, concerned.

“I am well. I cannot remain on my back all day, I’ll lose my mind.” Glorfindel looked away, 
seemingly gathering himself. “I asked Elrond about you. He helped me bathe and dress, and 
all I did in return was interrogate him about your behaviour. He would not tell me anything, 
but merely insisted I take it up with you.”

“Glorfindel, you need to rest...”

“No, Erestor.” The blue eyes were hard and decisive, and the counsellor wasn’t entirely sure 
he had ever seen that look on the Noldo before. “I am not leaving you alone until you tell me 
what is on your mind and in your heart. There is something there that you’re hiding from me, 
and I need to know what it is. I’ll never have peace until I do.”

The advisor sighed. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs. Glorfindel did, all the 
while keeping a wary eye on the dark haired elf. Erestor did not feel this was the time to air 
his thoughts, but he needed to give the seneschal something. Once they were both seated, he 
poured another cup of tea, handing it to the blonde. “Listen, Glorfindel, I will tell you 
everything you want to know, but I need something from you first.”

“What?” The single word was spoken in such exhaustion, such desperation, that it made the 
advisor believe that Glorfindel would indeed do anything he asked at this moment.

Erestor leaned back in his chair. “I need you to tell me what you remember from your last 
time in Gondolin. Truly remember. No balrogs or swordfights. I mean your personal life.”

“Why?”

“As much as you are trying to understand me, I’m trying to understand you as well. I need 
this. Tell me what you remember, and I’ll tell you anything you want.”

Glorfindel sighed, holding the teacup in his lap and staring into the warm liquid. “I remember 
everything. As clear as day. Every intricate detail of my mundane life.” He looked up, gazing 
at Erestor with sad eyes. “What exactly is it you want to know?”

“You remember everything? Did you not say...”

“My memories were clouded when I first came back into the world. They were hidden by 
mist, shrouded in the fog of my soul’s journey. The emotions came back first. Sorrow, joy, 
anger, love...” Glorfindel shook his head. “It took me quite a while before I reassembled my 
life into a coherent story, and was able to piece together my experiences. But yes, I remember 
everything clearly now. The sights, the sounds, the smells of the city. I miss it.”

Erestor thought about this for a moment. It sounded unbelievable. If the Noldo remembered 
everything, why were they having this conversation to begin with? “Let’s start at the end, 
shall we?” he finally said. “Who escaped the city? Was there anyone close to you? A friend? 
A family member?” He knew he was pushing, but he needed to hear it from Glorfindel’s lips. 
Had death undone their history?

“No. Not really. They were peasants and warriors, most of them. Wounded, women, and 
children. Of course there was Idril, the king’s daughter, carrying Eärendil. They and the 
mortal, Tuor, I suppose you can say were my friends. I was one of the few they told about the 
secret escape tunnel. One of the few they trusted. But there was one other among the refugees, 
one who was more than a friend.” Erestor held his breath in anticipation. “He was my lover.”

“Your lover?” the advisor breathed, shocked.

“Yes.” Glorfindel smiled bitterly. “He was young, but he had such spirit. Intelligent and 
beautiful. You remind me of him.”

To his own surprise, Erestor laughed out loud. “I remind you of him?” Covering his eyes, he 
tried hard to stop laughing, but the situation was too absurd.

“What is so funny?”

“I’m sorry.” He quickly collected himself. “Who was he?”

The Noldo sat back, a slightly offended look on his face. “He was an orphan. Many years 
before the city fell, king Turgon sent me to lead a small group of warriors on a secret mission. 
On our way back to the hidden valley we stumbled across a party of very tattered elves. They 
came from a village far north of Nargothrond, close to Brethil, which had been burned to the 
ground by orcs. With nowhere to go, they had fled upriver looking for refuge. But the orcs 
had found their trail and followed them, attacking them when they were sleeping. There were 
not many of them left by the time we found them, and they were in poor condition.”

Erestor looked sympathetically at the seneschal. This was a story he was not familiar with. 
Leaning closer in his chair, he implored the Noldo to continue.

“There was a mother among the survivors. A blond Sinda of fair features. She had lost her 
husband and her oldest son to the orcs, and a baby daughter had been killed when their home 
burned. Behind the she-elf stood this tiny figure with large round eyes, staring up at me from 
his hiding place, clutching his mother’s skirts. She begged me to take them to safety, so at 
least one of her children would live. In spite of what the King had ordered us, I had not the 
heart to turn them away. I took them to the seven gates, but not all of them survived the 
journey. Some were wounded, others stricken with grief.”

Glorfindel took a deep breath, sipping his tea and staring into the fire. “As soon as we got into 
the city, we lost one more. The King agreed to let the rest stay, but after a month, two more 
died, including the blonde Sinda. In the end, only five survived, of which only one escaped 
when the city fell. An entire village, a whole culture and several family lines, gone forever.”

“And the child?”

Sad blue eyes looked up at the advisor. “He never liked me much. I think he was afraid of me. 
So I stayed away and gave him space to heal. There was always someone else there to take 
care of him. As he grew older he was passed around, and I don’t think there was an elf in all 
of Gondolin that didn’t want to teach him a trade. Eventually he was adopted by Ecthelion, 
and grew into the most spectacular elf.” A smile graced his lips, as he no doubt remembered 
something fondly. “I don’t know when exactly I fell in love with him, but it was quite sudden. 
For both of us. I simply knew the first time I held him in my arms.”

“What was his name?” Erestor looked long and hard at the blonde, who only stared into his 
tea. “Do not tell me you can’t remember.”

“I wish I could. I thought I did.” Glorfindel shrugged. “His name was the only thing in my 
mind when Mandos first woke me, but the more I thought about it the farther away it flew. I 
thought for a while the Valar did it on purpose. To stop me from looking for him. I mean, I 
don’t even know if he made it over the mountains alive. Orcs were following us...but I’m not 
so sure now that was their plan. The moment I first laid eyes on you, something happened 
inside me. I don’t know what, but the name I thought I had was lost to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you, and saw that you looked like him. I heard your name, and heard that it sounded 
like his. But you were not he. You could not be.” The Noldo looked at him apologetically. 
“I’m sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, Erestor. I do not want you to think my 
feelings for you are based on your resemblance to my long lost lover. I love you for who -
you- are.”

Erestor stood, pacing in front of his chair. “Do you know who I am, Glorfindel?”

“Well, you keep telling me I don’t.”

“Then what do you know, exactly?” He stopped, looking sincerely at the blonde.

Glorfindel drew a deep sigh and put his teacup away. “I only know what Elrond told me when 
I asked him last spring. I was curious, and wanted to know why you always glared at me as if 
I was vermin. He told me about your past, that you were born in Doriath and dwelled there 
until it fell. To me that explained a lot. It should be no surprise that you are suspicious of 
Noldor, for it is no secret how King Thingol felt about the sons of Fëanor. He hated the 
Noldor. I’m certain it rubbed off on his people.”

“I am half Noldorin,” Erestor said, standing tall. “How can I hate something that is in my 
blood as well as yours?”

“You are?” Glorfindel stood from his seat, baffled. “I thought you were Telerin.”

“Since you spoke to Elrond last he has come to know the truth about my past, which I have 
lied about for many years. I did not want to answer certain questions, and left my old life 
behind to start anew. My past was not something I wanted to remember, so I buried it.”

“So...who are you?”

Erestor stepped forward, standing close to Glorfindel and looking him deeply in the eyes. 
There was so much confusion in them, so much pain and anguish. The advisor didn’t know if 
what he was about to say would make it any easier for the suffering warrior, but the time had 
come to say it. He reached up his hand, touching a pale cheek and gently stroking the soft skin 
with his fingers.

“I could not stay,” he said. “After Thorondor, the lord of the eagles, had retrieved your body 
from the ravine, I could not stay to watch as they buried you. I dared not look, for I feared it 
would mean the death of me. I did not speak to another being for a long time after that. I left 
my old self on that mountain, buried under those rocks, with all that was left of my beloved.”

Glorfindel gasped, a single tear leaving his eye, and then he collapsed.


-------------------------

Chapter 11 - Closure

Erestor stood to the side, watching as Elrond examined the Noldo. The Peredhel sat at the 
edge of Glorfindel’s bed, hovering his hand over a sweaty brow, his eyes closed in 
concentration. The advisor didn’t know if he should feel guilty that his sudden confession had 
brought the blonde to faint, but at least the intermission had given him time to think. 
Glorfindel had told him things he could not remember himself. The story about his mother... 
All he remembered now was the back of her dress. She was blond? Sindarin? And she had 
three children, not two. Erestor was still pondering the existence of his baby sister when 
Elrond rose from the bed.

“He will be all right,” the Peredhel said, facing his counsellor. “What was he doing walking 
around the house?”

“You ask me as if I knew. He said he was restless.”

“I had only just left him. I spent hours with him, making sure he was not bored. I know what 
he’s like when he’s bored.”

“Either he gets into mischief, or he gets drunk and gets into mischief.” The two elves smiled 
at each other. “I don’t know, Elrond, he acted rather strangely. He came to see me, but I got 
the feeling it was not me he was looking for.”

“And you talked?”

“Yes. He told me his story, and I told him mine. As weary and suffering as I could tell he was, 
it must have been the final shock of my admission that brought him to collapse. I carried him 
here, so that he could wake in his own rooms again. Strange, how someone so strong and 
brave can appear so frail and vulnerable.” He looked down at the unconscious elf, 
overwhelmed with protectiveness for the defenceless Noldo.

Elrond placed a hand on the counsellor’s shoulder. “It was not your fault, Erestor.” He cast a 
glance at the sleeping blonde. “Sit with him. He will need you when he wakes.”

The Peredhel departed, leaving the counsellor alone in Glorfindel’s bedchamber. Erestor 
sighed, taking a seat on the side of the bed. He could not stop himself from touching the fair 
face, petting the soft hair and feeling the warmth that exuded from the pale skin. So many 
years had passed, life and death had come between them, and their souls had been ripped 
apart. Life had changed Erestor, death had changed Glorfindel, yet together they remained the 
same. Two lonely elves thrown together by chance. Or perhaps fate. Captain and squire had 
become seneschal and advisor, and to anyone who had known them in the time before this 
they would have seemed strange. But nothing was truly different.

Erestor took a pale hand into his own, kissing the precious knuckles one by one. The skin was 
as silk upon his cheek. The sleeping face that rested on luxurious pillows looked almost 
childlike in its innocence, pure and unspoiled by life’s hardships. Despite the horror and strife 
this old soul had endured, his shape remained peaceful. The advisor looked around the room, 
so personalized for the Noldo’s needs. It reminded him greatly of the chamber in the House of 
the Golden Flower. Modestly decorated, but with no real sense of order or style. Glorfindel 
liked things the way he liked them, without caring how they seemed to others. It made Erestor 
smile.

“You never had much taste, did you, melethen,” the advisor said, stroking the blonde’s face. 
“Always choosing odd things that never matched with anything else. Like me.” He bent down 
and planted a chaste kiss on sleeping lips, nestling his fingers in golden hair. “And always 
will I love you for it.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Another day passed and the Noldo remained unconscious. Elrond frowned more often than 
usual, but Erestor did not worry. In his heart he felt an ember glowing, a spark of hope re-
ignited by his final confession. Glorfindel would return to him. The warrior would not be able 
to escape if he tried. The advisor walked the corridors of the Last Homely House with a 
constant smile on his face, as if he knew a secret privileged to him alone, as if he had a 
prerogative in the greater scheme of things that only he knew about. And while watching 
Erestor the half-elf’s frown deepened, but Celebrían only raised an eyebrow and smiled.

When the sun rose on the second day Erestor returned to the seneschal’s chambers, a nagging 
feeling in his stomach that he could not shake. He sat on the side of the bed, a hand clasped 
firmly within his own as he watched the Noldo stir. Blue eyes fluttered and lips parted, a 
shaky breath expanding the broad ribcage before leaving it to sink again. The dark haired elf 
sat quietly, holding the limp hand against his chest and waiting for the blonde to waken. It 
was not long before the eyes opened and slowly began to focus, blinking at the sight of bright 
morning light.

“Erestor...”

“I am here, Glorfindel. I am here.”

Sad eyes looked up at him. “You were here all along. The entire time it was you. Why did I 
not see? How could I have been so blind?”

“You were no more blind than I, my friend. I was the one who lived. I should have no excuse 
for acting the way I did, but neither did I see what was right in front of me. Before my very 
eyes and in my own heart. I did not see you.”

Glorfindel wiggled his hand out of the advisor’s grasp, reaching up to cup his cheek. “But this 
face... I should have known this face. It should have been etched so deeply into my mind that 
nothing could undo it. Like footprints in stone. I do not understand.” His hand moved lower, 
caressing the pale column of Erestor’s neck, easily parting robe and tunic to come to rest on 
naked chest. “This heart still beats. It beats the way it always has, quickening under my touch. 
I know its rhythm well. There were some things I thought death could never touch, yet it left 
me with my most horrid memories, and took away my most beloved. How could Mandos be 
so cruel?”

Erestor smiled, holding the hand firmly to his breast. “I do not believe Mandos is cruel. I 
think he saved us both a lot of suffering, doing what he did. I think I finally understand.”

“Then enlighten me, for I do not.”

The dark haired elf gazed into eyes drowned in sorrow, and pitied the wounded warrior. If 
there was one thing the counsellor could not stand, it was seeing Glorfindel sad. He took a 
deep breath, thinking back to all the times he had seen the blonde’s radiant smile, heard his 
joyous laughter, and a desperate longing was born in him to experience it again. The smile 
that made his legs tremble and his knees weaken. The laughter that made his heart flutter and 
his skin blush. Only one elf had ever held that power over him, and although Erestor was an 
elf who very much liked to be in control, it was a power to which he would gladly submit, 
whatever may come.

“When you died, Glorfindel, so did I. The moment your last breath was spent my heart turned 
to ice in my chest. I wandered the lands a living ghost, ready to cave in to sorrow should it 
find me. But I lingered. I knew in my soul that I was not meant to die in those lands, in that 
age, and I felt a purpose would in time reveal itself to me. Years passed, but Mandos did not 
come for me. Yet every time I thought of you I felt my death all over again. So I stopped 
thinking of you. If I was going to live I could not endure such awful grief time after time. At 
first I tried to convince myself we never loved. Once that illusion was complete I told myself I 
never knew you. And then...then I created a shroud of evil around you, grinding the 
knowledge into my very core that you were nothing but my sworn enemy.”

“Enemy?” Glorfindel gasped. “You thought that of me?”

“Yes. I hid my past and created a new life, putting all of Gondolin behind me. I lived a lie, but 
I lived. As I found new purpose in the service of King Ereinion Gil-Galad and befriended the 
son of Eärendil, I merged completely with my role and almost forgot who I once was. 
Through war and famine and misery, through four thousand years and though my spirit 
always remained haunted, I endured. The Valar let me live, for they knew you would return to 
me when the time was right.”

“They knew?”

“They must have. They stole the memory of your beloved, for they knew you would be facing 
someone who hated you and who didn’t want to look upon you. I believe they did it to give us 
both time. Time to remember. Time to heal. It took us nearly a year, did it not? But we are 
here now.”

Tears slipped from the corners of blue eyes, and Glorfindel’s breath hitched. “Do you love me 
at all?”

The heartfelt plea made Erestor grin with adoration, and he pressed the palm of Glorfindel’s 
hand tightly against his chest so the Noldo could feel the quickening of his heart once more. 
“My sweet Glorfindel...my face and my soul may have aged, but my love for you will never 
grow old or wither and die. My mind forgot, but deep within me a secret fire still burned. We 
only had a few precious months together, but it was enough to sustain me through ages of 
loneliness. Grief never seized me, for somewhere in the dark chambers of my heart I knew I 
would feel joy once more. Of course I love you, Glorfindel. There has never been another.”

He took the precious face between his hands and planted a loving kiss on quivering lips. As 
the hesitant mouth yielded, Erestor felt the trickle of heavy tears as they tumbled over his 
fingers. Petting the warrior’s head, the advisor kissed him until all his worries were gone. He 
kissed the pink lips and the flushed cheeks, the strong chin and the prominent jaw. He kissed 
the moist eyelids, fair lashes tickling his lips. He worshiped every inch of the face that lived in 
his dreams, ran his fingertips over the beautifully sculpted ears and down the long neck, 
memorizing them as if he was touching them for the first time. Carefully running his tongue 
over a full bottom lip, he delighted in the gasp that met his touch.

“Erestor,” the Noldo breathed. “My beloved Erestor. You came back.”

The advisor stopped, looking into the deep eyes of his lover. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my 
love. It was you who came back to me.”

The next time he kissed the beautiful blonde he did not wait for permission to delve deeper, 
but forcefully pushed his tongue inside the desired mouth. Glorfindel did nothing to stop him. 
On the contrary, he pulled Erestor closer, hands fisting in hair and cloth, greedily capturing 
the counsellor’s lips between his own and forcing his tongue into oral combat. It was a furious 
kiss, driven by need and hunger, and it lasted until neither was able to breathe. Erestor tried to 
pull away, but the seneschal had him in a vicelike grip, giving no sign of wanting to let him 
go.

“My love,” he whispered, “I’m not about to leave you.”

Glorfindel smiled, a broad radiant smile that made the counsellor’s stomach roll over with 
joy. “If you intend to use my own words against me, pick a phrase I have not used before 
getting killed or nearly killed.”

Erestor grinned. “Indeed, your memory appears to have returned completely.”

“I understand now,” Glorfindel said, his fingers playing in a dark lock of hair. “I understand 
the things you used to mutter in the darkness or mumble behind my back. I realize my 
foolishness.”

“Do not feel guilt for my sake, lirimaer. Your conscience is clear.”

The Noldo smiled and nodded, letting his hold on the advisor slip. As Erestor straightened, 
the blonde tried to adjust his position on the bed, hissing and making a pained face.

“Your wound needs tending,” Erestor stated plainly. “You need rest and recovery before 
throwing yourself into any type of physical activity.” He helped the Noldo sit up more against 
the pillows, fluffing them beneath him.

“Pity,” Glorfindel grunted, lying back with a wicked smile on his face. “I was hoping to relive 
old memories later.” He raised his eyebrows and winked at the advisor.

“There will be no such thing,” Erestor commanded. “No reminiscing of any kind until you are 
fully healed. This is not negotiable.”

The blonde giggled, a sound that truly made Erestor’s heart flutter the way it used to. “I see 
why you’re such a popular counsellor, counsellor. I bet the elf lords were fighting over who 
got to keep you.”

“Well...” the advisor grinned, leaning down over his incapacitated lover. “Oropher did try to 
buy me over once, but I refused. I stay true to those who are loyal to me, and no amount of 
riches could tear me from my family. Consequently, Thranduil has done everything in his 
power to make life hard on me ever since.”

“Hm...” The Noldo smiled his crooked smile, the way Erestor recognised as a warning of 
trouble ahead. “Perhaps he believed that with you as their advisor, the disaster at the Last 
Alliance could have been prevented. He only resents you because he admires you.”

“Ah, and you came to this brilliant conclusion through your close and intense friendship with 
the King of Mirkwood, whom you’ve never met?” He cocked an eyebrow in challenge, but 
the Noldo only chuckled.

“Of course. We’ve been sending each other secret love letters for months now. I’m pretty sure 
he’ll want to marry me come spring. I’ll go to Greenwood and be his queen, as I was destined 
to be.” Erestor fell into a fit of giggles, resting his forehead on Glorfindel’s chest until he 
could keep a straight face. The blonde kissed the top of his head and laughed, wrapping his 
arms around the advisor. “What? You don’t think I’d make a good queen?”

“Aiya...somehow I don’t think you would be the ‘queen’ in such a relationship.”

“Why?”

Erestor gave the Noldo his very own wicked grin. “Because you like to be on top, and 
Thranduil likes to...not be on top.”

“A-ha! And how would you know this? You said there had never been another.”

Erestor lightly slapped Glorfindel on the shoulder, still grinning. “What do you think of me? I 
have never been to bed with Thranduil!” He gave the blonde a look of mock indignation, 
turning away innocently. “But I know someone who has...”

“You wicked, wicked elf! Sneaking around other people’s business...” Glorfindel shook his 
head, “...shame on you.”

The advisor sat up, straightening his robes and pulling a mask of indifference over his face. 
“It is the purpose of a Chief Counsellor to know everything about everyone, and how to 
utilize such information. Let’s just say that if the King of Mirkwood chooses to attack me 
again, I have many arrows in my quiver.”

“Very sneaky, counsellor. Very sneaky indeed.” 

The blond Noldo grabbed a fistful of recently straightened robes and pulled the advisor down 
for another kiss, not stopping until all resolve was vanquished from the dark elf’s form. 
Heated lips locked together and tongues resumed their urgent battling, nearly forgetting the 
counsellor’s previous order of abstinence. But lust does not honour pledges made in wisdom, 
and the reunited lovers did not refrain from indulging in their passion until another presence 
came to their awareness. Lord Elrond cleared his throat at the door.

“I came to see my patient, but it appears I am intruding.”

“No,” Erestor said, hurriedly standing and trying to discretely wipe his mouth as if his lord 
had seen nothing. “I was actually about to fetch you, my lord. His wound needs tending.” As 
he made to leave, a hand seized his wrist.

“You said you would not leave me.”

Erestor knelt, sensing the uncertainty still present in the Noldo’s heart. “I’m only going to get 
you something to eat. I will return shortly.” He pressed a kiss to Glorfindel’s brow, petting his 
fair face before walking away. Though, he could not help himself from casting one last glance 
at the ancient warrior. The love that had returned from beyond the seas. The one he lost, and 
gained. As he watched that lovable smile being aimed at the Peredhel, Erestor knew 
everything would be all right. He would have true joy in his heart again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

In the days that passed, winter claimed the hidden valley of the elves. Snow fell relentlessly 
from the white skies, laying a shimmering quilt over earth, rock and tree. Thin sheets of ice 
laced the banks of the rivers, and all creatures that were able had long since crawled to sleep. 
Life was suspended in the dell. Although Glorfindel spent many days sitting in his chamber, 
he was never alone. On those few occasions when the advisor did not keep him company, he 
always had the growing army of snowmen on the balcony to look to. The twins had made an 
entire family out of ice and snow, looking in at the elves that kept warm by the fire, and 
Erestor was happy to see the smile that graced the Noldo’s features when his eyes fell upon 
them.

It was the first time in many years that Erestor had enjoyed winter. Sitting alone in his 
chamber during dark evenings only made his ghosts appear more threatening, but this winter 
he was not alone. Hours upon hours were spent in the presence of the Noldo, speaking of lost 
times and forgotten realms. Sometimes they spoke of war, other times they shared smaller, yet 
more significant experiences, like the birth of the twins or Ecthelion falling off his horse in 
front of all the Gondolindrim. The advisor thought it a peculiar sensation, getting to know 
someone he already knew. But he did not regret it.

Day by day the warrior showed improvement, but Elrond was not satisfied. The Noldo did not 
heal as fast as he should, and they wondered if it was because of his death and rebirth. But 
sometimes Erestor suspected that Glorfindel only acted more hurt than he was, hoping to be 
granted a few more days inside by the fire, speaking with the counsellor. But Erestor said 
nothing. He brought tea and sweetmeats for the injured one, treating the blonde like royalty in 
an attempt to make up for a year of misguided hatred. He would sit on the rug before the 
hearth, leaning back against a chair, the Noldo lying between his legs, purring as Erestor ran 
his fingers through golden hair. The advisor took his time worshipping the fallen beauty, 
thanking the Valar for sending him back.

Just as the stern counsellor had ordered, no strenuous activities were exercised, and most 
nights they had to limit themselves to chaste kisses for the fear of their passion taking over. 
But Erestor felt the unavoidable desire building up inside. In his every dream he felt the 
frustrating torment of being kept on edge, and never once did he find his release, neither 
sleeping nor awake. He saw it in Glorfindel too, but dared not touch him until he was 
convinced the wound would not reopen. Not until scabs turned to scars would he dare explore 
the Noldo’s limits. He had caused the warrior too much pain already.

Weather grew colder, and what was once fluffy snow turned to icy crusts under elven feet. 
The raging waterfalls fell quiet, and every surface grew glittering with frost. Snowmen and 
playful strongholds could no longer be built and little elflings stayed inside. All would be 
quiet in the House of Elrond were it not for the lone tune of an aching minstrel. Erestor woke 
to the sound of the melancholy voice floating down the halls, and stayed still in his bed. To 
Lindir, all beauty was sorrow, for someday it must all come to ruin; nothing truly beautiful 
ever lasts. Hearing the minstrel’s sad music was a sure sign he was in a good mood, relishing 
the beauty of the world.

The advisor got out of bed, looking outside at the frosted world, and indeed it was beautiful. 
From the chest under his wardrobe he brought forth clothing in pale, crystalline blue to fit the 
occasion, and after dressing he headed straight for the seneschal’s chambers. He knocked 
several times, but there was no answer. Risking breaching the Noldo’s privacy, he looked 
inside, but the blonde was nowhere in sight. Shrugging, Erestor went to see Elrond, and the 
half-elf was in the middle of his breakfast by the time the counsellor showed up.

“Good morning, Erestor. Sleep well?” The Peredhel had a peculiar smirk on his face that the 
advisor didn’t know quite how to interpret, but at least he wasn’t frowning anymore.

“Yes, my friend. I was looking for Glorfindel, but he was not in his rooms.”

“I know,” Elrond grinned. “He’s back on duty, I’m afraid.” Erestor raised a questioning 
eyebrow. “The winds are picking up speed, and I fear there’s a storm headed our way. There 
are about a dozen elves working on insulating the stables. Glorfindel volunteered.”

“I see.” The advisor sat down, serving himself breakfast. “How very excellent.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Waiting for the day to pass was excruciating and Erestor did his work in silence, randomly 
stepping outside to check on the stable. When he saw Glorfindel climb onto the roof to seal a 
hatch, he felt quite confident the Noldo was completely recovered. Indeed he must have been 
feigning his incapacity for at least a few days. Erestor smiled at the thought, but then a chilly 
wind crept into his robes, and he hurried back inside. It was a winter of wolves.

Once during the day advisor and seneschal passed each other in a hallway, not saying a word, 
but merely looking at one another with wicked intent. As Glorfindel strode past him, Erestor 
caught a tress of golden hair over his face, and caressed by its silky softness he drew in its 
scent with undisguised want. The two elves looked over their shoulders at the other before 
parting. The dark haired counsellor knew very well that they both had the same plans for the 
evening.

Dinner was a strange affair. Though other elves spoke of the dreadful winter and the frozen 
wind howled outside the doors of Imladris, there were two who sat silent, simply looking at 
each other. Erestor ate his food with deliberate lack of haste, delaying the moment when they 
could excuse themselves without being impolite, and teasing the blonde across the table with 
suggestive spoon handling. When Glorfindel was not restraining a giggle, he was blushing red 
and sinking lower in his seat. Erestor enjoyed every second of their secret communication, 
and he surprised himself by recalling a dinner in King Turgon’s household where he and 
Glorfindel had spent the entire night kicking each other’s shins under the table. He vividly 
remembered the brightly coloured bruises on his legs the day after, and the way his lover had 
kissed every single one, apologising to the purple skin.

Still, not a word was exchanged as the couple left the table, waving the opportunity for dessert 
in the hopes of sweeter pleasures. They quietly strode down the hall side by side without so 
much as a wayward glance. They reached Erestor’s chambers first, so they went inside and 
closed the door.

Not a second passed before Erestor found himself pushed up against the wall, his robes torn 
from his body and his mouth assailed by hungry kisses. He returned every gesture with equal 
ferocity, kissing the greedy mouth and blindly grasping for buttons and clasps. Glorfindel 
ground his hips against him, hands fisting in dark hair and hot breath panted onto flushed 
skin. Erestor succeeded in freeing a strong shoulder from its woven prison and bit into it, 
tasting the flesh and absorbing the delicious groan that escaped his lover.

“I have been waiting four thousand years for this,” Glorfindel said.

“So have I,” Erestor panted, finding the willing mouth with his own again.

They tumbled through the room, barely staying on their feet as every last piece of clothing 
was tossed aside. The advisor was bordering on euphoric, enthusiastically rubbing against the 
Noldo, who in turn was busy roaming his hands over every accessible body part, paying 
special attention to the neglected backside. Tongues fought for dominion while leggings and 
boots were removed by the use of legs and feet alone, and once at last they were naked in 
each other’s arms, identical sighs of relief sounded in the chamber.

Erestor backed his lover against the bed, pushing him over and hastily jumping on top, 
straddling his prey. Glorfindel grinned, trying to lean up for a kiss, but the cunning counsellor 
stayed just out of reach, teasing his victim into desperation. Finally he relented, taking charge 
of a deep kiss that nearly left them without breath. Erestor groaned, hands once again returned 
to massage his buttocks, and his erection swelled in appreciation. Straightening his legs, he 
laid down on top of the blonde, provocatively rolling his hips so that their hard members 
rubbed together. To his utter satisfaction, the Noldo gasped and moaned loudly.

“Like that, do you, seneschal?” Erestor chuckled, kissing his way across the fair face to reach 
his tongue to a pointed ear.

“Mmm...You know all my weaknesses, my love.”

After one last wet kiss to swollen lips, Erestor pulled back to look at his beloved. “I know 
what you want,” he whispered, bringing his hand between them to grasp for sensitive flesh. 
“And you know what I want.” The blonde groaned as fingers closed around him. “I would 
hardly call it weakness.” He moved his hand down and closed it around the sac. “It is 
merely...an exchange. A trade, if you will.” The hand let go, travelling upwards over smooth 
skin until it landed over the beating heart. “I’ll take care of your needs if you take care of 
mine.”

“Always,” Glorfindel vowed, pulling the advisor close and kissing him passionately.

Erestor indulged in the sweet mouth, permitting himself to be kissed out of his mind before 
moving on. He kissed his way over the chin and down the slightly moist throat, tiny vibrations 
absorbed by his lips as the blonde groaned. Licking and nipping his way down the breastbone, 
he made little detours to torture each nipple between his teeth. The Noldo’s back arched, 
showing his approval. Erestor grinned, relieved that his skills had remained intact through 
centuries of dire celibacy. His tongue followed the centre line of abdominal muscles and slid 
all the way down to the round navel, where it stopped to play. The blonde was panting now, 
squirming under the counsellor’s touch and fisting his hands in the sheets.

Erestor needed but to touch his tongue to the swollen head, and the warrior’s body jerked, 
goosebumps spreading over his sweaty skin. Teasing his way down the hard shaft, the advisor 
pushed strong legs apart, settling between them and continuing his relentless re-acquaintance 
with his lover’s anatomy. Lips and tongue explored the rigid member and its surroundings, 
before finally closing around the head and pulling it deep inside his mouth. Glorfindel made a 
delicious sound of utter want, which only encouraged the counsellor further, and soon Erestor 
had with the help of a little suction reduced his beloved to a pile of moaning, shaking limbs. 
His hands found tender places that his fingers remembered, and without having to use any of 
his cunning he threw himself into abandon.

“Stop!” the blonde pleaded, at once pushing Erestor away and pulling him up to lie on top 
again. No time was wasted, and Glorfindel greedily conquered the busy mouth, no doubt 
tasting himself on the advisor’s palette. “You always had a wicked tongue, counsellor,” he 
panted between kisses. “It has so many more interesting uses than talking.”

“You have quite a mighty weapon of your own, captain. Take care, or cleave me in two you 
might.”

The Noldo emitted a sound that was half groan and half laugh, wrapping his arms a little bit 
tighter around the slightly slimmer elf. “I love it when you get dirty. You have such a filthy 
mouth.”

“Your move, seneschal.”

No sooner had he relinquished control before Glorfindel spun him around, and he landed on 
his back in the soft mattress. The Noldo growled deep down in his throat, pressing the 
counsellor down with his broad chest and nipping at tempting lips. “I take it the Chief 
Counsellor has planned for every eventuality?”

“Indeed,” Erestor panted, smiling due to the pure joy that filled him at the feeling of 
Glorfindel’s weight on his body. “Under the mattress.”

The Noldo leaned over the edge of the bed, reaching his arm under it and groping for the 
hidden object. As he came back to lie fully on his lover, there was a small crystal vial 
enclosed in his hand. He carefully pulled out the stopper and waved the opening under his 
nose. “Almond oil? How luxurious,” he grinned. “I wonder what you had to do to get hold of 
this. Nothing naughty, I hope.”

“I do believe your hopes are quite the opposite, but I fear I shall disappoint you, my lord.” He 
lovingly laid his arms around Glorfindel’s neck, pulled his head down and rubbed their noses 
together. “I have not been the naughty type lately.”

“But we’re about to change that, aren’t we?” the blonde grinned, raising himself and drizzling 
a small amount of oil onto the advisor’s chest. “Oh! Look what I did! Here, let me try and 
clean that up for you.” Applying his hand to the oil, he only managed to smear it all over 
Erestor’s chest and down his stomach. “Well, this isn’t working.”

Erestor giggled and kissed the fool. “Get on with it, before I go soft on you.”

Grinning, Glorfindel sat back on his heels and poured a good amount of oil directly onto both 
their groins. Setting the vial aside, he used one hand to grasp their straining arousals and the 
other journeyed down the mysterious cleft. Erestor mewled happily, spreading his legs for 
easy access. He closed his eyes and let the sensations carry him away; their cocks pressed 
together, nearly equal in length and girth, the delicious hand moving up and down, round and 
round, twisting and fisting. He slid his calves over warrior arms, urging the blonde to 
continue, and soon felt a finger probing against an opening that had been undisturbed for 
millennia. In one stroke it slid inside, catching the counsellor by surprise and causing a sharp 
intake of breath, but seconds later he relaxed, allowing warmth and pleasure to spread through 
his body.

Lips returned to his, as if they felt they belonged there. The severed twin searching for its 
mate. He felt his knees grazing ribs as his legs was forced up and apart, the other body settling 
between them. Erestor halted in the kiss when he felt a roughness against the smooth skin on 
his thigh. He knew it was the scar, still protruding from its victim, a constant reminder of how 
close he had been to losing his beloved a second time. But as Glorfindel kept kissing him, 
muscled hips settling against his bottom and a second finger stretching his entrance, all other 
thoughts vanished from the counsellor’s mind.

The fingers pulled and scissored, nudging his sweet spot but not quite reaching it, until 
Erestor was wailing with need. Not until then did the hands leave to grasp his own, pinning 
them to either side of his head. He was caught and vulnerable, completely exposed for 
whatever his assailant decided to do to him, and the mere thought sent shivers down his spine. 
A memory flashed before his eyes. Their first time together. It had been just like this. Erestor 
remembered being terrified, but the fear had only heightened his arousal. He had quivered 
before danger but accepted it without resistance, embracing their union as a cherished event to 
treasure forever. As he would now.

“Erestor? You are trembling.”

The dark haired elf, feeling like his insecure younger self again, hooked his legs tightly 
around the warrior’s mid. “I feel like an innocent anew.”

“As do I,” the Noldo said, and Erestor imagined seeing a fleeting nervousness in the darkened 
eyes.

He felt sad for the blonde. The advisor felt the body on top of his quiver the same as he, 
sweating the same as he, tensing the same as he, and he was sad that the warrior should also 
feel as insecure as he. He saw in Glorfindel’s soul the years of sorrow, years of hovering in 
dark suspense in a land where none could reach him. The counsellor’s hands tightened around 
strong fingers and he gazed deeply into blue eyes.

“I love you, Glorfindel. I always have, and I always will.”

“I love you also, Erestor,” the Noldo breathed, planting a soft kiss on softer lips. “And I have 
never wanted you more.”

Erestor grinned, feeling the throbbing shaft that lay waiting between their bodies in hopes of 
gaining access to privileged ground. “Then what are you waiting for, seneschal? Take what 
you want.”

Glorfindel needed no more encouragement, nor did he waste any time directing his pleasure to 
the target. Covering the advisor’s mouth with his own he began pushing against the stretched 
muscle, swallowing every mewl and moan that left Erestor’s lips as he drove his cock deeper 
inside. Erestor broke contact, gasping for breath as he was stretched further than he thought 
possible. The Noldo panted into a pointed ear, grunting as he buried himself to the hilt. As 
soon as he was all the way inside, the counsellor slipped his hands out of the blonde’s grip 
and reached for the firm arse, pulling the warrior closer, whimpering from the pressure as he 
did.

The Noldo held still for a moment, his arms shaking as he braced himself. But once Erestor 
relaxed, Glorfindel did the same. “Move,” he hissed, and the blonde obeyed. Slowly at first 
but increasing in pace, the warrior rocked their bodies together, their gazes locked in 
passionate belonging. With every motion back and forth Erestor felt a tingle travel from his 
toes up his legs, and the oil smeared between heaving chests gave an enticingly intimate 
sensation to their contact. When Glorfindel thrust hard Erestor yelped, more with pleasure 
than with shock, and his eyes begged for more.

The blonde instantly increased his rhythm, undulating his hips as he thrust inside his lover. 
Erestor clawed at the flawless skin of a sweaty back, grunting as he forced his legs further 
apart. The spear that skewered him filled him with want and need, only teasing and forcing 
him to wait in suspense for greater pleasures. His desire became torture. The advisor, strong 
though he was light of frame, wound his arms around broad warrior shoulders and squeezed 
the air out of Glorfindel, playfully biting his chin.

“Need I remind you of my inadequate patience, seneschal?” he growled, delighting in the 
whimper that left his lover. “Move like you mean it.”

As soon as he gave the Noldo permission to breathe, a new determination showed in 
predatory eyes. Hands grabbed onto the intricately carved headboard, gaining leverage for 
forceful thrusts. Erestor groaned loudly with appreciation as Glorfindel hit the spot. A fast and 
violent pace was set for their coupling, the Noldo nearly slamming Erestor’s head into the 
wood by force of his hips. Hazily, the counsellor thought that nothing in his life had ever felt 
this good. No feeling or sensation or experience could compare to this. When compared to 
such brutal passion, any other pleasure seemed insignificant.

Erestor braced his arms above his head, protecting himself from the threat of hard wood and 
left the lovemaking to his hips alone. The blonde now hit the center of elven ecstasy with 
ease, forcing heated sounds of pleasure from the lungs of his lover with every thrust. The 
advisor wailed and groaned, struggling to keep his limbs under control as his growing passion 
took over. They tried to kiss but only managed to bite each other, the bed beginning to move 
from the violent activity. Desire built in Erestor, raging beyond his wildest fantasies, further 
than he ever thought he could go, and the head of his erection needed but the slightest of 
touches to hurl him into oblivion.

As his body wracked with orgasm, every muscle contracted with disastrous strength, and his 
throat closed with a strangled sound. The pounding of his own heartbeat deafened his ears, but 
somewhere in the distance he could hear Glorfindel scream. His legs cramped around the 
other elf and his entrance tightened around the invader, both bodies jerking with spasm. 
Erestor couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and the power of his orgasm nearly drove him 
unconscious, surging through his body like bolts of lightning. When at last his throat opened 
he gasped for breath as if he was about to drown, and when muscles began to relax he shook.

The heavy body of a warrior descended on the slimmer elf, lying unmoving on top of the 
panting advisor. Moist ringlets of hair covered Erestor’s eyes, some black, some gold, sticking 
to his brow and his lips. For long moments, they couldn’t manage to do anything other than 
breathe. The counsellor’s dark eyes wandered the ceiling, nearly expecting to see cracks 
trailing its surface. Four thousand years of pent-up desire had been released in the advisor’s 
room, and to Erestor it felt like such an occurrence must have changed the very world around 
them. Nothing looked the same. Even the sweaty creature in his arms appeared changed.

When all remnants of explosive lust had passed, Erestor was left with an inexplicable energy. 
He didn’t feel tired or exhausted or even sated. All he felt was this great love of life and he 
wanted to get up and run naked out into the snow. He started to laugh uncontrollably, and 
even stranger was the fact that Glorfindel was laughing too. Shakily, the warrior rolled off his 
lover, and the advisor stroked damp tresses of tangled gold from the flushed face. They 
looked at each other and chuckled, sinking into the mattress. Even though a power was 
surging through Erestor’s nerves, his body was still not cooperating fully.

“That was fun,” he grinned at the Noldo.

“Yes it was,” Glorfindel smirked in return.

Erestor cocked an eyebrow. “Then what do you say we do it again?”

“Right now?” The advisor nodded, and to his delight the blonde smiled. But then Glorfindel 
got a dangerous gleam in his eye and leaned closer, bringing his voice down to a low growl. 
“Turn over. I want to take you from behind like the wanton dog you are.”

Erestor chuckled, but humoured the aroused blonde. More memories were resurfacing, and he 
remembered Glorfindel growling worse things than ‘dog’ in heated moments. While turning, 
he cast a coy glance over his shoulder. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you? I haven’t done 
this before.”

Glorfindel laughed as he climbed atop the downward-facing counsellor, crudely sucking on a 
pointed ear, and Erestor already felt a distinctly hard erection press against his backside. “Oh, 
you are no inexperienced little elfling anymore, my love. In the few weeks I got to love you, 
we tried every trick ever invented. You know your way around this position.”

The advisor dug his knees in the mattress and tilted his hips up, rubbing his already oily cleft 
over the Noldo’s leaking member. “Actually, there was one trick we never tried,” he smiled, 
turning his head and trying to nuzzle the blonde.

Letting out a deep sigh, Glorfindel’s voice took on a more serious tone. “I know. We will get 
to that. In time.”

“I’m not worried,” Erestor chuckled. “You can do whatever you want to me until that time 
comes.” He winked over his shoulder, pushing his hips up again in encouragement. “Go on. 
Take me like the wanton dog I am.”

The Noldo grinned and bit Erestor hard on the shoulder at the same time as he rammed 
himself in. A needy cry echoed in the room and the advisor fisted his hands in the pillows, 
pushing back against the pulsing cock that dominated his senses once more. Arms wrapped 
around his chest and he clawed at them, enjoying like nothing else the sensation of being 
utterly constricted by his lover’s will, confined to the brute force of Noldorin passion. It was 
not long before Glorfindel found his pace once more, pounding into his welcoming lover, 
pinning the smaller elf to the swaying bed.

Erestor grunted and growled, grinding his teeth as the invading cock hit the mark with 
surprising ease. He tried his best to meet every thrust with one of his own, but it was beyond 
his control. Their movements grew fervent, frenzied, and in the end all thoughts of love and 
beauty were lost to the raw, carnal act of two bodies meeting in sexual delirium. Two wild 
beasts they were, wrestling for command over pace and angle, fighting for rights to orgasm. 
Erestor squeezed his muscles around Glorfindel’s cock, capturing it and tugging until the 
Noldo released a sound that had vibrations travelling from his chest into the advisor’s spine. 
Grinning with satisfaction, the darker one of the beasts thought himself winning, but his 
adversary had a contingency plan.

A fist seized the arousal that still hung free under Erestor’s belly, pumping it with such 
determination that it had the counsellor writhing and digging his nails into Glorfindel’s arms. 
Screaming with frustration, Erestor felt himself slip, falling towards the inevitable end. 
Assailed and tormented from the front as well as behind, there was nothing he could do to 
stop the stampede of energy that raced towards him. A few more thrusts and a hard squeeze 
was cause for his destruction, and he surrendered completely to his lover’s skill, admitting his 
defeat when he let out a loud wail and spurted his seed over tousled sheets.

As he buried his face in the nearest pillow, biting into it and letting the waves of orgasm flow 
through him, he felt the Noldo behind him stiffen, and he was filled with warmth from the 
inside. Erestor groaned with bliss. He had forgotten how much he missed this feeling. Soon 
they collapsed on top of each other again, panting and covered with sweat and oil. The 
advisor felt moist lips kissing his ear through layers of hair, and once his pulse had calmed 
everything seemed eerily quiet. All he could see from his position was part of a wall and the 
dresser with an oil lamp. Still, all was the same.

An arm tightened around him and they rolled to their sides, fresh air on his skin helping to 
cool the heated advisor. He took a deep breath and turned in the embrace, facing the one he 
had lost. Glorfindel’s eyes were tired, but his soul glowed with intensified vibrance. He had 
never looked more beautiful. Erestor reached up and ran his fingers over the chiselled jaw, 
stopping to kiss the beautifully curved mouth. They kissed lazily for a few moments, arms 
around each other, and exchanged tender caresses and meaningful looks. There was nothing 
words could say.

They did not speak for the rest of the evening. Whenever they moved they did so in 
synchrony, letting their instincts guide them. They bathed in silence, taking turns washing one 
another’s hair, and once they were both wrapped in blankets they sat by the fire and watched 
it sparkle. Erestor played his fingers in blond hair, smelling it and kissing the golden head that 
rested against his chest. Such a precious head. Once they finally managed to change sheets 
and crawl into bed, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, as peaceful as they had ever been.

And no dream could steal their perfect moment.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

In the weeks that followed, an air of harmony descended on the elven valley. No one could 
explain it, but for some reason everything was peaceful. The storm that passed seemed to 
leave a calm in its wake more potent than the calm before, and the people of Imladris enjoyed 
a clear winter that glistened pure and bright. The cold no longer reached their marrow and the 
clouds no longer hid the sky. A thick blanket of snow lay as comfort over the sleeping soil, 
shrouding the dell in white and mithril.

Seneschal and counsellor were often seen walking hand in hand through the frozen garden or 
having snowball fights with the twins. Two tall walls of snow stood built on opposite sides of 
the courtyard, and anyone who dared pass could at any moment be caught in the crossfire. 
Once Elladan scored a perfect shot on Lindir, hitting him square in the head, and the minstrel 
walked around with a red ear for the rest of the day. Erestor had of course made the child 
apologise, but as soon as the elfling was out of hearing range he laughed until his stomach 
hurt.

When he turned, the Noldo would always be there, smiling. It did feel good to laugh again, 
and it felt even better to have someone at his side, laughing with him. Erestor was truly happy 
for the first time since before Gondolin fell. But the best part... The best part was when they 
were alone. Strange and wonderful things happened when it was just the two of them. It was a 
world so different from the one Erestor had been living in that sometimes he wondered if it 
was all an illusion, a dream or some deep personal trance. Every moment he spent with 
Glorfindel was sheer bliss.

There were times when their need for each other was so dire they could not stay apart. On one 
occasion Elrond caught them kissing in Erestor’s study, but all he did was excuse himself and 
close the doors as he left, smiling knowingly. The two lovers looked at each other, relieved 
that all they had done was kiss. Had they been caught the day before, the half-elf might have 
seen his chief advisor bent over the desk. Or naked on the chaise the day before that. Or on 
the floor before that. When the urge hit them, all rational thought flew out the window.

One particularly cold night they stayed in Glorfindel’s chamber, keeping warm by the means 
of unrestrained physical activity, and when all energy was spent they collapsed in a heap on 
the bed. Erestor exhaled forcefully, blowing an unruly lock of hair from his face. Below his 
ear he could hear the steady heartbeat of his lover slowing its pace, and he smiled to himself, 
knowing he was the reason it had been so fast a moment ago. He kissed the salty skin on the 
warrior’s chest, working his way up the neck until he reached his favourite place of all. The 
gorgeous, exquisite mouth with the finely curved lips. After giving it a thorough kissing, he 
gazed up into smiling blue eyes.

“So how did you like it?” he asked, grinning.

“Which part?” Glorfindel chuckled, but the advisor gave him an incredulous look. “I can tell 
you this; it was the best I’ve ever had.”

Erestor shook his head, smiling. “Considering that was your first time on the receiving end, I 
can’t take that as too much of a compliment, can I?”

“Oh, but you can,” the Noldo said, petting the raven hair. “Alas, my beautiful Erestor...you 
have changed the way I see the world. Many have always thought me brave and strong, but 
for a long time there were things I was afraid to do. Things I could not do. This was one. Even 
when I first knew you, after I found you in the snow that fateful day, something awoke inside 
me. A new courage. It took me some time to realize it, but I had already made up my mind to 
share everything with you. If the horror that happened that spring had never been, we would 
have done this long ago. I had made plans for us after the feast, but we never got to fulfil 
them.”

“You had plans?” Erestor asked sadly, thinking back to the day of the spring celebration. His 
eyes gazed emptily into the distance as he remembered. “I came to you in the 
stables...suggesting we returned to your chamber instead of going to the party. But you said 
we should wait.”

Glorfindel smiled. “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

The advisor smiled, imagining what might have happened after sunrise had Maeglin not 
betrayed them to Morgoth. He lazily ran the tip of his finger in circles around a pink nipple, 
leaning his head in the other hand. Beneath him lay the elf he had desired for so long without 
knowing it, and it thrilled him to no end to have the Balrog-slayer at his disposal, to do with 
as he wished. He could touch the fair skin whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted and 
however he wanted. Glorfindel was his. Forever.

Meeting the intense gaze, Erestor realized he was being watched, and it felt as though the 
Noldo had read his mind. A hand came up to tangle in his dark mane, and he purred 
delightedly as expert fingers massaged his scalp. Slipping limply to the side and cuddling up 
next to the warrior on the bed, he sighed contentedly, resting his head on a strong shoulder. 
He studied Glorfindel’s profile as if it were an ancient piece of art, and he marvelled at the 
perfection of Noldorin features. Every little piece of his ethereal face exuded strength and 
valour. Blue eyes turned to the advisor, but Erestor did not contain or disguise his admiration. 
He could finally permit himself to dote upon his lover shamelessly.

“You know, it will be Yule soon,” Glorfindel said. “Is there anything in particular you wish 
for?”

“No,” Erestor smiled. “I have everything I could ever want.”

“Not even a black robe or a book of some sort?” The advisor slapped the cheeky elf hard on 
the stomach, but Glorfindel only laughed. “All right, perhaps not. I’ll think of something 
else.”

“Knowing you, you already have something in mind.”

“Perhaps, dear counsellor, perhaps.”

Glorfindel’s eyes sparkled with love, and it was all Erestor could do not to weep tears of joy. 
The warrior’s smile still gave him funny sensations in the pit of his stomach and made him 
feel like a nervous elfling once more. Somehow he knew those feelings would never go away. 
Whenever the Noldo came back from patrol he would fall in love with him all over again, and 
whenever their eyes met he would feel a tingling run through his nerves. He knew this, for he 
saw their future in the deep oceanic blue of Glorfindel’s warm eyes. He knew this, for in the 
very essence of his being he could feel it, taste it, and he was certain the Valar themselves had 
aided in their reunion. One look at Glorfindel, and the advisor could tell he knew it too.

Their love would never age.