bold is used for emphasis
Chapter 15:
Ethuil, Imladris, 2818 T.A.
Erestor awoke in a grey, lifeless landscape that stretched to the horizon in all directions. He found himself sitting on what appeared to be a rock. Looking up, he noticed that the sky itself was the same dull grey, as though thick dark clouds covered the entire expanse. After trying to focus on his memories to determine where he was and why, he remembered the battle with the orcs and the lancing pain, but there was nothing after that. Am I dead? This place is obviously not Mandos’ Halls, but where in Mordor am I? A movement in the distance caught his eye and he watched as a figure came striding up to him.
Erestor thought he recognized the elf in front of him, as liquid silver eyes gazed out from a breathtakingly beautiful face. Long dark hair swirled around the tall, willowy form as though the locks were being caressed by a slight breeze. The elf’s inner light was almost blinding as he closed upon Erestor, who did not stand as the Vala came before him. “Híren, are you here to further taunt and torment me? Have you no other to offer you amusement?” His words were spoken softly, but the Vala before him clearly heard the bitterness in them.
“Ah, my dear Counselor, I do not torment. I only attempt to bring understanding.”
“Understanding?” Erestor spat angrily. “What does reminding me of my public humiliation have to do with understanding?”
“Public humiliation? Your dreams are not open for all to see; they are for you to remember things you may have forgotten. Come. We have much to see.” Irmo, Lord of Dreams, held out his hand, and Erestor, seeing his countenance, knew this was not a request.
As soon as Erestor stood and took the Vala’s hand, the grey landscape vanished…
The smoke was so thick that he could hardly see as he raced through the streets, his few men that were left at his heels. Tuor was signaling to flee, abandon the city, but he was not leaving alone. Not without his lover. Where was he? As The House of the Fountain came into view, he glimpsed ebony hair through the smoke. “Thel!” And, then the smoke cleared…
Before him was the most hellish sight imaginable. Ecthelion was standing in front of the huge fountain, his right arm obviously useless, broken and burned. Bearing down on him was Gothmog, the Lord of the Balrogs. “Thel! No!” But his screams went unheard over the roar of the monster and the battle. Gothmog was obviously wounded as he attacked Ecthelion. And for a brief, shining moment, it appeared that Thel would be victorious when his sword stabbed into the heart of the beast… but Ecthelion was too badly hurt, and too unsure that this titan would be so easily undone, that he jerked backward for another strike and, instead, toppled them both into the water, which immediately began to boil.
He collapsed in that moment, but his men were loyal and strong. They grabbed him and began running with him until they could bring him to his senses. “Thel! No!” he kept muttering, until his second slapped him and said, “Sir, hold on a bit longer. We must make sure the Princess and her family are safe. There will be time to grieve, but not now.”
He roused himself and remembered his duty. He was the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower. He was a Captain in King Turgon’s army. He would not succumb to his own misery, not yet, not while those in his charge were still in peril. He would not let Ecthelion’s sacrifice be in vain.
He and his men followed the refugees, guarding their backs, through the hidden ways. When they arrived atop the Cirith Thoronath, he looked back and watched his beloved city burn. He urged the refugees farther on until he felt the ground shake and heard a bellow. There behind him was another of the demons. He could do this. He would do this, for Thel, and for Gondolin. His exhaustion was no more. All he retained was a grim determination and a desire to end it. He charged. The battle was brief. He was victorious as the demon fell over the cliff, but he did not see the whip, until it was already wrapped around his hair. He did not hear the screams from his men until he was already falling, flames searing him…
Erestor jerked away from the Vala’s touch and was immediately returned to the grey landscape. “What in Mordor!?” It had been so real. The pain of losing his lover, and then the very real physical pain of feeling his own death… “Why?” he asked, even though he knew. He understood.
Irmo brushed Erestor’s cheek with his thumb. “This is the same nightmare that Glorfindel has been experiencing since his return. It was rare for a time, kept at bay under your care, but now it comes each night with more vigor than ever and it is eating away at him.”
Erestor shivered, still trying to regain his control and composure from living Glorfindel’s last minutes. The tears wetting his cheeks were for Glorfindel, as he realized what anguish the Elda had gone through. And the thought that he was continually reliving this nightmare made Erestor ache deeply for him. He asked, sharply, “You are the Vala of Dreams; why can you not do something for him?”
“I do not bring this dream to him. He summons it from his own grief and guilt.”
Trying to cover his feelings, Erestor again became the counselor and historian. “So he and Ecthelion were lovers. Why was this never mentioned in the histories? Why has he never said anything?”
“One died to defend his city and king, the other died from his grief, for as sure as the Balrog took Glorfindel down, it was only able to because he did not wish to live any longer. They were recorded as simply the heroes that they were. They had a great love, Erestor, but they were not soul mates. Glorfindel has his own reasons for not revealing his past. If you wish to know what those are, I suggest you ask him yourself. Take my hand.”
As Erestor’s hand reached out and made contact, the grey landscape was no more…
The sun was high in the sky, with a slight breeze. He was being chased and was laughing giddily. Suddenly, he was caught and swung around, giggles slipping from his lips. When he was finally sat back upon the ground, the world spun dizzily by and his legs would not hold him. But he did not fall. Strong arms held him until the whirling slowed. He looked up and there above him was the tall, dark elf, smiling. He was so happy when that elf smiled at him!
The vision swirled again…
When the horse reared up, he was scared, but then the deep voice comforted both him and the horse as the dark elf rode up beside him. This was a large horse and quite skittish, but the elf made everything better. He always made everything better. And now he was able to ride the big charger without help! He looked at the tall, dark elf and swelled under the pride he saw gleaming in those kind, brown eyes.
Another swirling, and this time he found himself in a little cottage in the dark, with only a candle beside him for light. Strong arms encircled him as his head rested on the slowly moving chest. He was lulled to sleep as the deep voice rumbling in his ear told him a story. He had never felt so safe and secure and loved as he did right now. He closed his eyes in sweet slumber and awoke in the grey landscape with Irmo’s smiling face looking at him.
“That is what Sídhiel feels when she’s with me? That is how she sees me?” Erestor’s voice was laden with emotion at the adoration and love the little one viewed him with.
“Yes, you have become the world to that child. Her grandmother was too troubled by her own grief and fear to devote the time the child needed, so she became wild and independent, seeming to need no one. But as you now understand, Sídhiel needs someone to love her, guide her, and show pride in her. All roles you have easily taken on.”
“Why do you show me these things?”
“My dear Counselor, there is still much to be done in Middle Earth and Glorfindel must be able to play his part. He cannot, if he succumbs to his guilt and refuses to heal.”
Erestor was growing angry, “Well I do not see that his guilt has anything to do with me, nor could I have anything to do with his healing. You have the wrong elf for that.”
Irmo chuckled at this. “Wrong elf? Oh, I think not. He is consumed with guilt for what he perceives as a betrayal of Ecthelion, but even worse is his guilt at hurting you. That Elda is far too noble for his own good. He loves you. Glorfindel needs you, but you terrify him. If he acknowledges his feelings for you then he must give up Ecthelion. He has not yet been able to do so, but that time is nigh.”
“And what does Glorfindel have to do with Sídhiel? They have never even met.” Erestor realized he was growling at the Vala, fearing that Irmo was plotting upon the child.
“You have both proven yourselves far too stubborn and are forcing our intervention. We have given that little one a role in both your lives. Once she has fulfilled that role, then, and only then, will Glorfindel be able to heal and gain his full strength, which will soon be needed. Enough words, Counselor. You cannot analyze everything. Sometimes it is best if you simply let your heart lead. It is time for you to return. Námarië, Erestor.” The Vala lightly kissed the advisor on the lips and all consciousness fled.
Erestor moaned quietly and his lids fluttered slightly. Instantly, two forms were at his side, gazing with concern into his barely open eyes. He blinked and stared blearily into two pairs of eyes, one azure blue, the other, deepest indigo. “Water,” he croaked.
Instantly, Elladan appeared with a small cup of water and held it to Erestor's dry lips as Glorfindel tilted his head up. Leaning back into the pillow, he immediately fell into slumber; but this time it was a natural, healing sleep instead of one forced upon him by Elrond’s healing energies and potions.
Elladan smiled slightly, his heart lightened by the darkling elf's progress.
“Lord Elladan, will my ada be all right now?” A tentative smile and hope shone brightly from the child’s face.
Elladan realized that the self same emotion was reflected on his and the seneschal’s face as well. “I think so, pen dithen. Let me inform Adar so he can tell us more.”
Upon hearing the insistent knock at his door, Elrond waved for Saelbeth to go and see what was so urgent. At seeing Elladan’s smile, the healer asked, “I trust you have good news that could not wait, Iôn?” Both Aurvellas and Saelbeth eagerly waited to hear his reply as well.
“Adar, Erestor woke for a brief moment and requested water. He is back asleep now, but there are two hopeful folk at his bedside awaiting your pronouncement on how our dark one is doing. Could you attend to him shortly?”
The Lord of Imladris looked at his advisors and realized that their discussions had not really gotten anywhere, as they hadn’t even come to a decision on the next day’s Council meetings. No matter. He needed to check on Erestor. That must come first. “That is wonderful news, indeed, Elladan. Please wait, I will go with you immediately. Saelbeth, Aurvellas, I must check on Erestor. Let us continue these discussions after dinner.”
Elrond caught the disappointment that flitted across Saelbeth’s face, and he knew that he was pushing the advisor, but there really was no other option. Even though it was necessary, the Peredhel did not desire that Saelbeth’s family suffer, and the advisor had yet to be home this past week before his little iôn was already asleep. Saelbeth rose, and quickly bowing, hurriedly left with barely a word.
Aurvellas was disappointed as well, for he had been looking forward to listening to the minstrels in the Hall of Fire after dinner. There would be a certain king in attendance that the warrior loved to watch; even though Aurvellas had not yet gotten the nerve to approach Thranduil. Frowning slightly, Aurvellas bowed and said, “By your leave, híren, I will return here immediately after the evening meal.”
Elladan noticed the reluctance with which both advisors had greeted his father’s words. While walking beside Elrond, he noticed how tired and drawn his father seemed. Worrying, Elladan could not keep silent. “Adar, could you not give everyone a break from the Council tomorrow? You have been overdoing it by giving Erestor continuous care, as well as attending every meeting. I am certain even Thranduil would understand. He would likely welcome a break that might give him the opportunity to get to know our home better.” As Elrond was about to protest, Elladan continued, “Surely you noticed how pained Saelbeth was by your request to return after dinner? How much time have you allowed him to spend with his family? And even Aurvellas was most reluctant. I do believe he would relish a break as well. Everyone is entitled to time off. Please, Adar, consider my words.”
Before Elrond could reply, they walked into Erestor’s room, and he was silenced by the hope shining from two faces.
TBC
Translations:
Ethuil – late spring
híren – my lord
námarië – farewell (Quenya)
pen dithen – little one
Adar – father