Beginning of the End

Erestor's POV

I'm suddenly startled by a swishing sound in the hallway, just in front of my study, and the next thing I know, a white envelope is slipped under the door. Before I even get the chance to put away the letters I have been trying to sort and answer, the swishing of robes becomes a faint sound and whoever the messenger might have been, he or she is already rushing away from my questions. I hope it's not because I'm THAT scary when interrupted from work.

Distracted, I shift my gaze from the parchments on my desk to the little spot of white in front of the solid, artistically carved door, wondering why would anyone slip my mail under the door instead of handing it to me properly. Unless it's not my mail..."Oh, Erestor, stop this useless reasoning and just look at the damn thing!" I scold myself, knowing that I won't be able to get anything done until I've solved the little mystery of that message.

Only when I sit up, my body finds it appropriate to remind me that I had been bent over tons of paperwork for hours and my back is starting to feel sore. So I stretch and yawn, in a very non-Erestor manner, running a hand through my hair. It cannot be very late. The sun is still shinning bright and this is only the third hour of the afternoon. I cannot be tired of work already?!

There is nothing but my name on the white envelope. Written by a strong, steady hand. Glorfindel...I should have known. It is in your habit, after all, to slip me notes and prepare Valar know what surprises for me. What are you up to, now?

Glorfindel has not been on patrol today. Nay, he has had another duty, perhaps more demanding and dangerous. I can't help snickering when I remember his face, this morning, as Elrond asked him, in his sweetest voice, to teach Arwen how to ride a horse. His beautiful, blue eyes went wide and a wave of despair gave him away immediatly, but Elrond just ignored it and continued, not giving his Seneschal an order but asking his old friend for a favour. Which is much worse and absolutely impossible to refuse. "Fin, my dear friend, I would do it myself, but you know how busy I am with the upcoming council. Erestor and I can barely cope with all the diplomatic issues..." Elrond said, putting on the most amusing display I have ever seen him use. We can barely cope, aye?...As if I have ever been in the situation to "barely cope" with anything here in Imladris! But I played along, if only for the satisfaction of seeing Fin turning pink and swallowing his reply.

He loves our little Arwen dearly and the sweet Elfling is absolutely thrilled to have Fin around. But sometimes the little rascal can be a handful and even Glorfindel's legendary patience can come to an end, when showered with a constant flow of questions: "Fin, can I braid your hair? Why is it so shiny and golden? Why can't I have golden hair like yours? Can I ride Asfaloth with you? Can I braid his mane? Will you teach my how to fight with a sword like you taught my brothers? Will you pick some flowers for me?..." An so on. I swear, I have no idea how Arwen manages not to run out of breath.

Elrond's arguments were absolutely impossible to contradict. After all, "Asfaloth is the most intelligent and gentle horse we have and he listens to you so well. I would only trust you two to keep my daughter safe and teach her the basics, at least. I know Arwen can be handful, but she is a fast learner and she will do anything you say of you are convincing enough." as Elrond put it.

I was about to ask "But, Elrond, wouldn't it be safer if she began learning by riding a pony first?" when I remembered how many times Fin had amused himself at my expense. As the tutor of the twins and their younger sister, I have been subject to more questions than anyone can imagine and coming up with a suitable answer has not always been an easy task. Not to mention all the childish pranks! So...I kept my tongue and let Glorfindel handle himself without any help. Which my beautiful beloved did, by swallowing painfully and accepting Elrond's request. Once it was settled, he managed to even look excited about it. I was so proud...

I cannot wait to hear him describing his busy morning, even if he is going to exaggerate, and complain and generally beg for my sympathy. That should be fun... Ah, back to Fin's note. It is only a piece of parchment with a message that is as typical of Glorfindel as is his clear, neat calligraphy.


My beloved Erestor,

I'm waiting for you by the river, in our favourite spot. By the time this message reaches you, I will already be there, so hurry. I promise you will not be disappoined.
I know I'm interrupting you but, my love, don't even think of going back to work. Even if you are "barely coping", just put that quill down, slip into something more practical than those robes and come to me.

Fin.

PS: I love you and, remember, I HATE waiting.


I know I have a silly, love-struck smile on my face but I can't help it. It's what Glorfindel does to me. Somehow, he manages to make me laugh and love him more, every time. I wonder what he is up to now... And I do not hesitate in answering his call.

Elrond would laugh if he could seen me fleeing my office and throwing my robes on my bed, searching for a pair of leggings and a tunic in a hurry. But he would understand. Just like he will understand and not ask any questions in the morning, when he will find the rather tall stack of papers on my desk. I hope he will, anyway.

*******************************
The display in front of me manages to knock the breath out of me more than the race to this spot has. As I enter the clearing, my eyes go wide and my jaw drops as I look at Glorfindel. He is sprawled on a blanket the color of rusty leaves, wearing nothing but a pair of thin, tight leggings and a broad, wicked smile. That long mane is unbraided, pooling on the blanket, around his head and upon his shoulders, catching the remaining sunlight and returning it by the tenfold, just like liquid, gold Silmarils.

He has a feast waiting for me, though it's hard to look at the bowls of fruit and cream Glorfindel has placed at his side, when he is sitting there, so beautiful he seems almost unreal and yet so close I have to take only a few steps and fall on top of him, crush my hungry lips against his and taste Arda's sweetest delight.

As I stand, rooted to the spot, he graces me with a knowing smirk while twirling a lock of hair around a nimble finger.

"Come here..." he beckons me in a honeyed voice, and I rush at his side, pulling and tugging at my clothes.

****************************

Spoiled and sated, I fall asleep snuggled close to Glorfindel, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his beloved heart. His taste still lingers in my mouth, mixed with a touch of strawberry and I smile, pressing a kiss onto his glowing, smooth skin. His hold on me tightens a little and his right hand moves to caress my thigh, as I have my leg draped over his. Nestled like this, I slip into reverie, perfectly content and light as a feather.

The sounds of nature around us follow me in my sleep, and the steady rolling of fresh, mountain water on smooth rock lulls me even further. It seems as though the Bruinen is singing me a lullaby in crystalline voices. But as the song goes on, it grows, it spreads, it floats in the air around me and it fills my ears, resonating through me. I feel it running through my veins and making my heart flutter. A new voice joins the harmony, making it's beauty almost impossible to bear, weaving in notes and words of melancholy and longing. As the ancient words reach me, their sadness grips at my heart and I feel the acute need to soothe that ache and that loneliness.

The song goes on, and on, stronger than the voices of the river, turning into a desperate wail of such beauty and excruciating pain, that I feel tears welling at the corners of my eyes. I am wrenched from it's enchantment and from the arms of sleep by the stab of recognition.

"Kano!" I cry and wake up with a cold shiver running down my spine, trying to swallow the painful lump in my throat. For a few moments, my vision is blured and when I run my hands over my face I can feel the dampness of tears on burning cheeks and trembling fingers. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself and shake off the bitter feeling of loss that claws at my insides. That unearthly voice still rings in my mind and a part of me would gladly stay lost in dreams forever if I could hear it always.

"Dreaming of the Kinslayers again?" I can hear a cold, flat voice coming form somewhere near me. It is only now that I realize I am still naked, half covered with a blanket and that I must have broken free of Glrofindel's embrace. Feeling almost trapped, I turn to face him, running a hand through my tangled hair, trying to get it out of my face.

"Glorfindel..." I mutter in a coarse voice, startled by the expression on his face and his sharp, clouded eyes.

"Don't try to claim otherwise. I have seen you like this before. I know that look." His words come out with the sting of accusation and I feel the need to cover myself, to hide from the sparks of anger already flying through the air between us.

"I... I have... But it was only his voice, Fin. I dreamed of being close to a stream like we are now and Maglor's voice mingled with that of the water. It was so beautiful, so pure and... so sad. The emptiness, the loneliness and the longing were heart-breaking. Glorfindel, you would be moved also, if you had caught only a note of that desperate calling."

"I would not be moved. I could never be moved to pity any of them."

As I look at him sitting there, as little clad as myself, head resting in one large palm, eyes slightly narrowed, I find little resemblance between what I see and my gentle, good-spirited Fin. And I know that this is the beginning of a fight that neither of us would win or lose. But I will not back down, even if it means that I will spend many nights in an empty bed. Not now, when I know what it is that I have to do.

"You may not be moved, but I am." Without raising my voice, I stand up to him, some of the old pride coming back like an electric discharge.

"Of course you are. So much so that you insist on looking for him. Again. You would turn Middle-Earth inside-out just to find him. While others are preoccupied by the present threat, you are making plans and spending hours hunched over maps, wondering just where your precious Maglor might be hiding. Face it, Erestor. It's pointless! You will not find him. He does not want to be found. He is dead, for all you know."

"He is not dead!" I shout, feeling heat rising in my cheeks. "I know he is somewhere out there, alone and miserable. I will not sail West without him."

"Alone and miserable?! It's no more than he deserves. And I would say he is enjoying it, since Ages have gone by and he hasn't even tried to find Elrond or you." Glorfindel shouts back and the cruelty in his words hits me harder than a fist. How could he even begin to understand what Makalaure is going through? How would he know the agonizing guilt that has driven the last of the brothers, who still lived and recovered the Silmarils, away from any living souls, for fear that their curse would do even more harm? How could Glorfindel understand that most of the days, months and years in Middle Earth were not life but mere absence of death for the brothers? How, when he did not know them, he did not share their joys and sorrows, he did not bleed with them and for them, he did not weep beside their graves until there were no more tears to cry? It's so easy to cast all the blame on Feanaro and his sons, to name them as the root of every evil that has befallen our people so long ago and to hate them without cease or question. I would never have thought Glorfindel capable of such long-lasting hate, especially since he has accepted me and I would have sworn that our love is enough to help him make peace with the past. But here he is, proud and spiteful, since he is calling Makalaure's punishment no more than he deserves."

"How can you say that?! How can you possibly think that condemning oneself to an eternity of nothing but pain and loneliness is something that anyone deserves?"

"Quite simple, my beloved Erestor. It's simple when you remember the heart-wrenching cries of your closest friend and his little girl as their wife and mother was swallowed by a frozen grave? When everywhere you looked there was only despair and your companions seemed more like wraiths than living people? When the wind was blowing not only through our torn clothes but also through our hearts, numbing them and shredding the last remnants of hope?"

Glorfindel is now standing, pulling the blanket away from me and hastily wrapping it around his body. I gather my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, in a futile attempt to cover and protect myself from his bitter words. It has come to this again, so it seems.

"How could you know?" He continues, " How would you know what it was like to simply wish to lie down and let death be the end to so much suffering and yet keep going for the sake of others? Were you not aboard a ship, in a comfortable bed, drinking hot wine and laughing with your friends?"

I flinch under the slap of the last word. I wish I could close my eyes and ears to such accusations, hardly believing that they come from one who claims he loves me.

"I do know what it's like to wish death upon yourself. And yet go on, for the sake of those around you, who still wish to live and need your help." As much as I wish to jump to my feet and scream in his face, I struggle to keep my voice calm and my breathing even. Was I not there when Feanaro sped to his own death and we were all so overwhelmed that we could have sat motionless for days and the Enemy could have come to claim our heads also? Was I not there to keep Maitimo's brothers from harming themselves when he was taken and there was nothing any of us could do but pray that his end be swift? Did I not watch over the wreck of an Elf that was Maitimo when Findekano returned him to us? Were his nightmares not mine also? Did I not sob and held a sobbing Makalaure when the guilt of having done nothing to rescue Maitimo was more than we could bear? I was there, through battles that have come and gone, nursing wounds that that could heal and wounds that would never heal. Trying to offer some comfort that did nothing more than bring some calm to a raging storm of loss. Loss of love, peace, home, kin... and loss of self. Yes, I was there, aboard one of those ships!"

"You may, Erestor, you may know. But what was it all for, in the end? You devoted your life to them, and what for? You kept going and kept them going only to kill more? Only to rob more people of their kinsmen and their homes?"

"We did not live to kill and destroy! Do you think that I have ever taken a life for sport? I envied the spirits of those who died under my blade for they went to a place of peace and they were free of..." I trail off, swallowing the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes again.

"What about those who were left behind? What of the widows and the orphans? What about the mothers who lost sons and sisters who lost brothers? What of the people who lost their homes and their leaders?" Glorfindel is shouting his painful questions at me, but his eyes are looking through me, burning with anger, as if he were staring into the past. I rest my head on my knees, hiding my tears, unable to answer and knowing that whatever I might say would only serve to inflame him further.

"That is my punishment, Glorfindel. Trudging on through life and never being rid of this guilt. My only consolation is that I can do some good to those still left living and that those who have perished are now reborn in a place free of pain and worry." I finally answer, from beneath the courtain of dark hair that is hiding my burning, tear-streaked face.

"And I suppose that the rebirth of all the victims is enough reason to earn you forgiveness?" Even he is shocked by the words that have just rung through the air with the viciousness of a whip-lash. The cold realization hits us both and, instead of recoiling, I spring to my feet, oblivious of my nakedness and aware only of pain and anger.

"I see that NOTHING will EVER earn me forgiveness! If I cannot gain that form the one who claims he loves me, how can I expect my lords and friends to be forgiven? You would not understand and you would not hear me out even if your life depended on it! "

He does not seem put off by my outburst, or by the clenching fists at my sides. We are no longer two lovers, sharing tender caresses and sweet, loving words, but two adversaries, facing eachother and fighting over an Age-old feud.

"There is nothing to hear. In fact, I would that I never have to hear a word about those cursed people. But you let them crawl back into your life, you let the memories come between us and you hang on to your loyalty as if it were more important than our love!"

I receive each blow without flinching, knowing that he is both right and wrong, wanting to both hit him hard enough to draw blood and fall to my knees, at his feet, and beg that he stops hurting me so. But I just stand there, unmoving and expressionless, trying to remain calm and not say something that I will regret later.

"My loyalties are no more important to me than yours are to you. It is your anger for all the hardship that you and your king have had to endure that fuel your hate. Tell me otherwise and you would be lying. Save for the unjustice caused to you by the burning of the ships, in what other way have I and my people wronged you? Did we not bear the brunt of the enemy's assault while you lay hidden in your City?" I ask, words spilling out of my mouth faster than I can check them. I have been dreading to utter them, yet here they are, true, for he grinds his teeth in anger, looking for an answer.

"O, you and yours have wronged us in more ways than you can imagine! Are the Feanorians not involved in the fall of Gondolin?"

To this, I can only blink, shocked and staring at him as if some form of madness has possessed my beloved Glrofindel. My expression does little to discourage him and he presses forward.

"If Aredhel hadn't been so keen on seeing THEM again, she would not have left the protection of the mountains. If THEY were not hunting away in some forest or another for months, she would have made her visit and returned home safely. But THEY were not and she wandered off again. She was taken by that cursed Dark Elf and their cursed son was born. Even then, when mother and son wished to escape and come to Gondolin, Curufin could have stopped Eol from following and so much blood-shed could have been avoided!"

I have to shake my head and blink in confusion several times, for I cannot believe what I am hearing. This is not logic, it's spite! And this is not Glorfindel. I don't even have a name for what he is right now. Disgusted, I move away, looking for my clothes, backing away from a pointless fight that has revealed to me exactly who I am taking to bed every night.

"What are you doing?" Comes the hissed question, but I will not look at him.

"I have work to do, Laurefindel."

Spitting out the name I know he hates, now more than any other times, I put on my crumpled robes and try to leave in the most dignified manned I can conjure.