Title: Gemimor Losian 
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: orchydconstyne@gmail.com
Website: http://www.hithanaur.net/
Update List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nairn_orchyd/
Fandom: LOTR
Genre: Slash
Archive: LoM, OEAM, AFF.net, Melethryn
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or 
items from the Tolkien world. They belong to their 
respective copyright holders.
Rating: R
Beta: None
Author Notes: For makamu, who requested a drabble with 
Glorfindel/Gil-galad.  This is angsty, told from 
Glorfindel's point of view, following the death of 
Ereinion.  I have a theory about the older Elves, and Elves 
who have been reborn.  In short, the theory is their 
memories become diluted, hard to grasp.  It is one of 
Glorfindel's greatest fears, losing the memory of his dead 
lover.  Enter the angst.  ;)  I do hope you enjoy this 
makamu, even if it isn't fluffy and full of slash.  It was 
inspired by Vertical Horizon's "Give You Back".  I have put 
the lyrics after the story so that you can see what got the 
muses hopping.
Author Note 2: The title is Old English.  It means "Memory 
Lost".

---

We have no true funeral customs.  And even if we did, it 
would you no good, now would it?  Why was he there and not 
me?  Why could your final moments not have been for my eyes 
to witness?  I suppose it is a small gift from the Valar, 
that my final memory of you was not broken, bloody and 
charred, but of warm skin, wet lips, and hushed moans.  
Those are what I hold onto, grip tight in my heated hand, 
afraid that if I slip and think of something other than 
you...

This was our place.  This courtyard holds so many of our 
memories, both of joy and of sorrow.  It was under this 
tree where you stole our first kiss, fleeting and timid, 
but sweet and loving.  It was in the shade of the great 
shrubs that you took me the first time, our skin covered in 
cool shadow and touched by gentle breezes that smelled of 
the sea.  It was by the small pond that you told me of your 
intent to march against a foe that none thought could truly 
be destroyed.

Though my memory is long, it is that length that threatens 
what precious little you left me.  Two lifetimes meld and 
become a murky lake in my mind.  Are the memories I have of 
you -- dark hair flying, a laugh so rich that it reminded 
me of the deep pure of a cat, of eyes a flashing silver 
that could make the strongest Elf or Man meek before you -- 
are they true memories or just the conjuring of my aching 
spirit?  I can almost smell you here, heady and powerful.  
I can almost taste your lips, sweet as honey.  I can 
*almost* feel your arms around my body, cradling me to your 
chest where I can hear the steady, rhythmic beating of your 
proud, courageous heart.

False memories, or were you as real as I believe you were?  
My memory has failed me before, so many times before, but I 
grapple to hold onto all that we created in our time 
together.  I *need* those memories, lost in the darkness of 
my mind, just out of my reach many days, but I cling to 
them with a desperation that frightens me at times.

I can easily recall the tender way you cupped my cheek 
before you went to the head of the column of our warriors 
while I remained behind, a great Captain of a mighty King.  
What I cannot remember, though, are the first words of love 
spoken between us.  Am I to sacrifice our beginning to hold 
onto our ending?  Why am I denied both in the wake of my 
loss of you?

I reach out, try to touch those words whispered to me below 
the din of a great gathering, but they fall through my 
fingers like morning fog under the sun's bright rays.  The 
vision in my mind fades, lost, and tears fall from my eyes.

I cannot remember.

Lost moments.

Lost words.

Lost memories.

Blinded by your eyes, the love that radiated from them...  
Heart stopped by the passion in your kiss...  Soul consumed 
by a need to always be by your side.

I need to know if you were real, Ereinion.  I need to know 
if I imagined the burn of your gaze.

I need to remember.

The End