“Out of the question.”
“Yes, my lord. I wonder if you have considered the possible gains.” He fingered one of the letters from the southern lord, and once more summarized the tally of reasons to go. For him to go.
Glorfindel listened to the whole round of question and argument. Erestor on a horse was a lovely sight, and he found himself distracted by the thought of southern sun, and leisure to ride ahead of the wagons, looking for a camping ground for the night, with Erestor laughing beside him dared to a race. He blinked, and let himself watch the two of them.
“You have trusted me for years in my work for you,” said Erestor in a low voice, addressing the heart of it, and the core of his pain. Elrond had never granted him the respect he had once hoped to earn, even though he let Erestor work freely on his behalf, acknowledged with an occasional nod his effort and his achievements rather than belittling them, and listened closely to his advice. But soften toward him? No. Elrond had not given up his reservations, though Erestor saw his efforts to temper his manner, by and large successful.
“Erestor, frankly, you are a prisoner, assigned to labour. It is on Galadriel’s suggestion that I have you do what you are best at – indeed, what you are gifted at. That you are at liberty to live and work as if unconstrained is also thanks to Galadriel. You know this. You live here by her witness – but she is not here to approve such a departure. It has not been so very long since another rumour of trouble emerged involving your old compatriots. Had they all been rounded up when you were, I might find it harder to justify a refusal. But we know some of your brethren remain at large and unreconciled, and I will not be so derelict a custodian as to let you loose in the Southern wilds. Easy there to be approached and tempted to return to old loyalties. Out of my sight, I have no guarantees as to your choices. You might well rejoin your old comrades under cover of a trade and diplomatic mission of mine – Valar know how hard you fought to avoid apprehension – and who knows what they are involved in now. You know enough about Imladris to render you appallingly dangerous should you cast your lot in with your old friends, out of my sight among those who were never friends of the North.”
Every word of Elrond’s coldly clinical dissection of his proposition left Erestor in greater pain. Knowing this response was possible was not the same as being prepared for it. All these years he had let himself hope that with time he might be granted a place long denied him among his own brethren. Their limitations, their chosen fights, purposes and methods with which he had found himself so often odds, had limited mutual trust and regard. He had belonged among them and had worked with them, but that belonging had never offered what his heart had craved. What Elrond, too, withheld.
He had never been offered affection, never been able to relax, approved, appreciated, and wanted for himself, rather than for what they could take from him: his labour, his skills, the gratification his erstwhile lords had found in his body’s submission. Elrond, he admired. Elrond was honourable. Elrond’s trust he had wooed as steadfastly as any lover’s. He had never before tested Elrond’s opinions and attitude toward him as this idea did, only to learn by how tight a leash his appointed, unwilling master deemed him safely tethered. He stared at him, hopes fled, duty only left to him, cold comfort after far warmer ambitions nurtured in a secret corner of his atrophied heart. Precious ambitions, however forlorn, to earn a place, a home, and a fellowship he valued, to be valued in turn, laid waste in these few concisely, devastatingly delivered rejections.
“If I wanted to plot, I could do it from here,” he managed, which was obvious to him.
“I would see it in you,” answered Elrond, simply.
Of course. Erestor stared at patterns of grain in the old wood of the desk between them. All these years of blindly working for something he could never earn… He glanced around the room and down at his own person, clad in the finery Elrond provided. So. He was only ever to be Elrond’s advisor-captive, offered protection, a roof and the means to live graciously, and work he could do which was useful. It was more, far more, than he might have been granted. He was free to ride, to train, to listen to the minstrels’ music and attend all the other entertainments. No matter that he was not welcomed; they did not drive him out of their company either, neither bespoke him unkindly on social occasions, nor belittled him in official dealings. Tears rose unbidden, the first of his captivity since their long-ago defeat.
“Have I your leave to go? In case the venture has merit, I will prepare a contingency plan to be led by one of your own appointing.” He bowed hastily and retreated, desperate not to be delayed.
“Erestor?” Elrond called him back, startled by this unheard of lack of decorum, but Erestor fled as shameful, alien tears spilled over.
Glorfindel laid a hand on Elrond’s arm when he would have followed insistent on an answer and an explanation. “At least leave him the little dignity of departure and privacy, since you have crushed him so thoroughly. That I would see the day when you proved so mean-spirited, Elrond! Even if you needed to refuse him so absolutely, then all the more reason to have been gentle with him.”
Still staring at the door after the unprecedented departure, Glorfindel’s words percolated slowly. He stiffened at the censure, but the subtleties of their situation were not to be untangled by instant reactions of outraged offence. And there was something else that gave him pause. “Was he crying?”
“Yes. I have never seen that side of him. Have you?”
“No.” Elrond had never seen Erestor discomposed, not once. Even when he bowed in submission in the rain the night he arrived, it had not impressed Elrond, seeing his spirit stiffly proud regardless of his manner. Tonight – what was different about tonight?
As if he had read his mind, Glorfindel said, “I have not asked about his place here. I see how you treat him, as if he is a stranger on sufferance, and how the others copy you; the minstrels less so perhaps, bless their gentle hearts, though they seem to fear your censure. Even so, I am surprised by what I heard you say tonight.”
“I did not say it to taunt him, Glorfindel.”
“No. You just told him that once out of your immediate purview, he would abandon honour for treachery, that his word was worthless, and that his good service counts for nothing when it comes to trusting him. Moreover, the way you said all this made it plain that your view will never change, and that you cared nothing for his feelings in refusing his plan with a brutal exposition of your reasons – a carefully conceived plan that was all to your benefit – to all our benefits – mind you. Gondor maintains its guard but we cannot neglect what is happening in the South, Elrond. Who knows what might occur there? Men are frail; witness Arnor’s losses. Even in the line of Númenór, they are mortal and prone to human weaknesses, yet it is they who keep guard on Mordor.
“As for Erestor himself – I have been watching you, and wondering. Are you pleased? His hopes are destroyed, for today you reduced his prospects even in his further-most future to being a bound outcast, obedient to the will of a master who does not want him, who will never warm to him, serving a lord who sees him foremost as his enemy for all time. Do you know how surprised he looks every time, every time, mark you my lord, that I approach him in friendship, as if he wants to look around to see who I am smiling at?”
“But I could not... ”
“What you think you cannot do is rather my point, Elrond,” interrupted Glorfindel, silkily intolerant of Elrond’s justifications. According to Elrond, Erestor had Galadriel’s seal of approval. Erestor had never done the least harm in all his time here that Glorfindel had ever heard, not in the hundred years of his own tenure, nor in any of the preceding centuries. He glanced at the door. Just how long had Erestor been here? He seemed endlessly dutiful, mannerly to all (if cold), hard-working. Erestor’s service was unconditionally given and faultless. Glorfindel, disturbed by Elrond’s relentless lack of kindness toward one over whom he held absolute rights of command, would stay no longer in his company to argue with him. He was worried about Erestor.
End of Chapter Four
Tbc
Author's Chapter Notes:
Summary: Erestor proposes a foray in the South. Elrond gives his decision.