Chapter 24:
Laer, Imladris, 2818 T.A.
Erestor woke slowly from his drug-aided rest and it took a few moments longer before he realized he was still in Elrond’s rooms.. As he glanced to the open balcony, Anor was nearing its zenith. Silently cursing Elrond for the enforced sleep, he stood slowly and stretched stiff muscles. Cool water, cheese, and fruit sat upon a small table. He grimaced at the food, in no mood for a meal, but the water was refreshing and he drank an entire glass before stepping onto the porch.
Elrond’s chambers sat in a corner of the Last Homely House with two balconies. This one looked upon the gardens and waterfalls in the distance, while the other faced the courtyard. Imladris’ lord wanted nothing to happen that he was not aware of. As Erestor stood, gazing upon the summer greenery, he tried to make sense of his feelings and fears. Being still groggy from the sleep potion, his thoughts circled. He was no closer to a decision or understanding.
Suddenly, the bells began tolling that wounded were arriving. Erestor’s heart quailed. No matter who was injured, it would be someone dear to him. Well knowing that he could not move with speed, he did not waste time heading for the courtyard, instead he grabbed his cane and went directly to the Halls of Healing.
Elrond and Saelbeth had been in the dining hall when the bells sounded. Immediately they raced for the main entrance. As they reached the top steps of the Last Homely House, Asfaloth was flying into the courtyard. Glorfindel was astride, holding a small body in his arms. His mount never slowed and it seemed that he was intent on riding all the way to the healing wing, but at the last moment, Asfaloth halted and Glorfindel leapt off, landing lightly on the stairs. His pace never faltered so Elrond was forced to run to keep up as the Elda flew past him. Sídhiel was injured and would need his aid.
By the time Erestor arrived at the healing wing, Sídhiel had been placed upon a white draped table, her face ashen pale and streaked with blood from a head wound. As Erestor moved to stand next to his daughter, Glorfindel turned on him, hissing, “Have you not done enough? She would not be hurt if it were not for you! Damn it, Erestor! You can run away, if you must. So be it. But you will not take her with you! She belongs here and here she will stay!” Glorfindel’s immeasurable patience had finally snapped when he held the injured little body in his arms. He could not take it any longer and was done with it. Turning back to the child, he ignored Erestor.
Glorfindel’s tirade was like a physical blow to Erestor and the force of it pushed him back against the wall. His composure and strength of will deserted him and he crumpled, sliding down the wall to the floor. Elrond looked up and grimaced. He did not need another patient. “Glorfindel, enough! We are all worried and tired. Be careful of your words, that you do not regret them.” He moved his eyes to Erestor, directing the blond’s attention to what he had wrought. “I do not need you hovering, wait outside.” Elrond turned away and whispered quietly to Nestoron.
Glorfindel pulled his eyes from Sídhiel. As he turned, Nestoron was gently helping Erestor to stand. Frozen to the spot, he simply stared. Erestor’s terribly fragile state registered and he regretted his harsh outburst. When he finally freed himself from his trance, he moved toward the pair who were now moving through the door. Nestoron turned his gaze back to the blond and glared from narrowed eyes. Clearly Glorfindel was not welcome to follow.
Gildor and the twins crossed paths high above the waterfall and their combined parties rode swiftly to the caves, but they arrived after Glorfindel had already left. Himmion was glad to see their group ride up as a scout had discovered the Orc warrens and they needed help to clear out the area.
Elladan met Gildor’s eyes and they agreed to stay. Though they were torn, duty came first. With the additional elves, they sealed off all the entrances so that none would escape and set a fire to smoke the orcs out. They came rushing from every available opening, tumbling, pushing, clawing at their brethren in their haste. They were easily picked off. After the short battle, more fuel was piled in the cave and fires were started to purify the defiled dens and make them available for the local wildlife once again.
The carcasses were piled high and the pyre caught in a flash, blazing brightly in the dazzling early morn. Their duty done, the twins and Gildor mounted and rode for home. Their horses were not the only ones weary and the ride took hours, so it was already evening when they at last reached the Last Homely House.
They were met in the courtyard by a young page. Elrond requested their immediate attendance in his office. Gildor’s heart quailed, but he was certain that Sídhiel yet lived. He hurriedly dismounted and rushed to the Halls of Healing, ignoring Elrond’s summons. The twins stared after Gildor in silent amazement. No one dared disregard their father.
As he walked into the dimly lit, silent room, Gildor hesitated at the door. Erestor was sitting next to Sídhiel, stroking her arm, his eyes dark pools of worry, pain, and regret. The advisor looked like he should be a patient himself with his gaunt form, ashen skin, and the purple bruises under his eyes. Gildor sighed sadly for he had added to Erestor’s burdens instead of lightening them.
Erestor’s eyes darted up when he heard the soft exhalation. His face briefly shone with pleasure, and then quickly darkened. Leaning in he kissed Sídhiel’s brow and stood, speaking faintly, “I will leave you for a few moments.” His voice was filled with an undercurrent of hurt.
Gildor crossed the room hurriedly and stopped mere inches from his friend. “Nay! Do not go. Please?” He faltered, but sought Erestor’s eyes.
The quiet, bitter reply surprised Gildor. “Why should I stay where I am not wanted… where I am despised? I will allow you this time… for Sídhiel.” Erestor turned and began to walk away when a strong arm shot out and grabbed him.
“Forgive me, meldir. I was worse than wrong. I know you better than any and I know you are not capable of such vile actions. Please, Res? Your forgiveness means the world to me.” Gildor’s eyes pleaded for understanding and shone with fear of losing Erestor’s friendship from his harsh words.
Erestor stopped, but did not turn. He slumped and spoke brokenly, “Forgiveness? You ask for such from me? I, who has yet to forgive his parents for leaving him? I cannot find forgiveness for Glorfindel and you now ask it? I do not know how…” He finally turned an anguished mask to the blond. “If I knew how, I would forgive you first of all because you were right. My heart is filled with nothing but anger, fear, and bitterness.” Erestor waved a hand idly in an arc encompassing all of Imladris. “Look at all I have accomplished. My best friend believes I am a viper, the one that holds my heart loathes me, my lord has lost all confidence in me, and my ward… the one that I should protect above all others, lies here, injured… because of me.”
Gildor grabbed Erestor’s hand and pressed it over his heart, while tugging his friend into a tight embrace. “Res… you are none of those things. I will go with you to Lothlórien. Anything you need to heal. I will never desert you. In time, you will learn to forgive and move forward.” Nodding toward the small body in the bed, he said, “Sídhiel will teach you how to forgive so that you may live again.”
Gildor would not release Erestor and pulled him so that they both sat down upon the bed next to Sídhiel. He took her small hand in his and cupped it and Res’ protectively within both of his. “Whatever you decide, I will be here for you.”
Erestor looked down at the small hand gently cradled within his own and Gildor’s. This was Sídhiel’s home as it was his. He would not flee to the Golden Wood for all that made life worth living was in Imladris. Finally able to tear his eyes from their hands, he met Gildor’s concerned gaze. “Will you help me… show me how?”
Gildor nodded. “Aye. The first step is forgiving yourself, mellon nín. You carry the faults of Arda upon your shoulders and push too hard if everything does not go as planned. Just as you never expected to have a child to raise, you cannot control everything. Let it go and take things as they come.”
TBC
Translations:
Laer – summer
meldir – friend (m)
mellon nín – my friend