Seeing With The Heart

Title: Seeing With the Heart (1/7)
Author: Aglarien
Type: FPS
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. The great Master Tolkien’s estate owns everything else. I promise to return his elves when I’m done playing with them.
Warnings: AU.
Beta: phyncke
Author’s notes: Written for the Glorestor competition, and dedicated to the real Elladan and Elrohir and their beautiful family who all just seemed to creep into this story.
Summary: An encounter on the Great East Road changes the lives of Erestor and Glorfindel.


We may remark in passing that to be blind and beloved may, in this world where nothing is perfect, be among the most strangely exquisite forms of happiness.... The supreme happiness in life is the assurance of being loved; of being loved for oneself, even in spite of oneself; and this assurance the blind man possesses…… Possessing love he is not deprived of light. A love, moreover, that is wholly pure. There can be no blindness where there is this certainty.
Victor Hugo (1802–1885), Les Misérables (1862).

Chapter 1


It began as a beautiful spring day with the two Elves continuing their journey home from a diplomatic visit to the Grey Havens. They were less than a day’s ride from reaching Bree on the Great East Road when a scrubby band of Men decided that two isolated travelers were fair game for the picking.

It did not take the ruffians long to rue their decision, nor too long after that to cease any thought at all, as one by one, the Elven warriors ended their existence.

Glorfindel dispatched the final would-be bandit with an oath worthy of Morgoth himself, and wiped his bloodied blade on the man’s clothing. “Damn it!” the captain of Imladris exclaimed, looking around at the six dead men. “And we have nothing to dig their graves with. I suppose we can gather rocks and stones and build a cairn over them to keep the wild animals away. Stupid men.” He kicked a man’s sword aside and began to pull the bodies off to the side of the road.

Erestor sank to his knees as he felt his blade sink into the flesh of his last attacker. Head bowed, he knelt unmoving as his breath came in harsh gasps. There was a pounding in his head as he heard blood churning through his ears, making the sound of Glorfindel’s voice distant and muffled. He fought against the sickening nausea, and his skin was coated with a film of warm sweat. His sword hilt clenched in his hand, the bloody blade resting at his side, he struggled to control his fear and pain. He forced himself to take a deep, trembling breath.

“Are you going to help me?” Glorfindel asked. “Perhaps you could start gathering stones?”

Erestor slowly raised his head toward the sound of Glorfindel’s voice, and then slowly toppled over onto his side.

At the sight of Erestor’s face and the glazed look in his eyes, Glorfindel unceremoniously dropped the body he had been dragging. When Erestor collapsed onto the road, he rushed to the other Elf’s side. “Erestor?” he said softly, his fingers reaching for the side of his friend’s head to find the source of the blood that trailed across the chief counselor’s cheek. “Can you hear me?” It was obvious the Elf could hear nothing – Erestor was still and silent. Glorfindel drew Erestor’s head onto his lap and pressed the edge of his tunic against the wound to stop the bleeding. And then he waited for Erestor to regain consciousness. There was nothing else he could do.

Long, panic-filled minutes passed before Erestor finally regained his senses. The injured Elf groaned and rolled his head off of Glorfindel’s lap – to be violently ill in the dirt road,

Glorfindel quickly pulled Erestor’s dark mane out of the way and wiped his friend’s mouth with a non-bloodied section of his tunic edge. “How badly are you hurt?” he asked gently. “Can you speak to me?”

Erestor raised a hand, grasping Glorfindel’s arm. Were it anyone other than Glorfindel, he would have been loathe to admit his weakness and embarrassed for anyone to see him in his present state, but this was his old, trusted friend whom he did not have to hide his injury from. “The man with the club…hit my head when the others attacked me,” he whispered unsteadily. “I cannot see… and there is a great pounding in my head. My head and my stomach are both spinning.”

“You are blinded?” Glorfindel gasped out. He had noticed for a brief moment during the fight that Erestor was not wielding his sword as gracefully as he normally did, but with each of them battling three men, the thought passed out of his mind. Now he realized that it was because Erestor not only did not see his attackers and had been fighting purely by sound, but he was injured, battling the effects of the blow and struggling to remain conscious at the same time. Glorfindel felt grateful for his friend’s skill at arms, recalling the hours they had spent sparring blindfolded. Without that practice and Erestor’s strength and determination, the chief counselor of Imladris might well be dead. There was no doubt that Erestor was a powerful warrior, for all his acumen in diplomacy and negotiation. He unfastened a silver flask from his belt, uncapped it, and placed it in Erestor’s hand, now freed of the sword hilt. “Drink. It is Miruvor.”

Erestor lifted his shaking hand, and then felt Glorfindel’s steady one close around his to help him. He carefully took a deep drink, feeling the liquid begin to revive him, lessening the pain in his head. Erestor lowered the flask to his lap as Glorfindel’s hand moved away. He heard his friend rustling around and the sound of fabric ripping. A cool, wet cloth was wiped gently across his face and brow. He could feel Glorfindel recapping the Miruvor and then he heard the deep, mellow voice again.

“Hold onto the flask, Erestor. I am going to lift you and carry you to rest against a tree off the road while I move the men’s bodies. It will give you a chance to recover a bit before we leave.”

The words were hardly said before Erestor found himself sitting with his back against a broad tree trunk, a water skin placed on his lap along with the Miruvor, and the cool, wet cloth to his brow.

Glorfindel dragged the remaining bodies to the side of the road, placing the scoundrels’ weapons beside them. There was no time to cover the bodies with stones – the urgency of Erestor’s situation came first, and he would alert someone in Bree about the men when they arrived there. He briefly considered bypassing the town altogether, but there was a merchant there who was known to the Elves of Rivendell. The man would provide shelter for them so Erestor could rest in privacy. With any luck, they could enter the town without anyone being the wiser. He did not want any more men to know that two Elves, one of them wounded and sightless, were traveling alone along the road. He cleaned his sword and Erestor’s, whistled for their horses, stored both weapons in their sheaths on the saddles, and was back at the blind Elf’s side before more than a few minutes had passed.

Erestor heard their mounts move and felt Glorfindel’s presence beside him. “Are the horses well?”

Glorfindel nodded, and then realized how silly that action was. “They are unharmed, thank the Valar. Do you feel able to ride, Erestor? I will take you before me on Asfaloth.”

“I can ride Dulinn, Glorfindel,” Erestor said with a hint of defiance, speaking of his own black stallion. He was blind, not crippled. Even though he was only a few inches shorter than the tall Glorfindel, he was lighter, but that was no reason to burden Asfaloth with two riders.

“I know you can,” the captain said gently. “But will you not feel more secure riding with me? At least until we are closer to Bree. You took a hard blow to that thick skull of yours as well, Erestor. We do not know what problems the riding will cause. Let me help you, my friend.”

Erestor sighed. “You are right, of course.” He sniffed the air and moved his head from side to side. “I do not like this…emptiness I feel,” he whispered. “All is as black as pitch, and I cannot sense anything if it is still. It unnerves me. If I were riding Dulinn, you would have to talk non-stop so I knew I was not alone.” It did no good to wonder if his blindness was temporary or permanent – only time and perhaps Elrond would tell. For now, it simply was. “Well,” he said after a moment, “let us go. I want to get home. I need to get home, where at least I can feel secure in the darkness.”

It was several hours later when the Elves neared the town of Bree. Glorfindel had explained his plan of stopping there, but Erestor had spoken little. In truth, he felt nauseous from the blow to his head, along with the hammering headache he had, and they had had to stop twice for him to be sick again. He was preoccupied with his blindness, worried thoughts filling his mind. He knew the nausea would lessen and finally pass as his head healed – this was not the first time he had been struck there.

They could not be seen riding together, so the captain helped Erestor mount Dulinn for the remainder of the way, making sure that both were concealed by their cloaks and hoods. “Keep your hood around your face if you can, Erestor,” Glorfindel said, eying the counselor with concern. He knew that Erestor was in pain, in addition to being light-headed and sick to his stomach; even if they hadn’t stopped for him to vomit, it would have been easy to discern the way the injured Elf had leaned so heavily against him. “Dulinn will stay close to Asfaloth, and I will be right beside you. Do not hesitate to tell me if you need to stop.”

“I will be fine, Glorfindel,” Erestor said. “Let us ride on. The best thing for me right now is to get to Bree and find Robert quickly so I can get off this horse and rest for a while.” The pain in his head was worsening and his stomach seemed to roll along with the horse’s movement. He prayed he would not be ill again, in sight of the town and its residents.

Dusk was still an hour or more away when they reached the crowded town. They passed through the open gates of Bree, unnoticed among other townspeople coming and going, and rode slowly up the main street.

Glorfindel looked at all the signs hanging from the establishments and homes that lined the street, seeing nothing that identified the Elf-friend they hoped to find. “Do you have any idea where Robert’s home or business is, Erestor?” he whispered.

“None. Except I know he mentioned that it is in the town somewhere and his home is over the leather goods shop with the tannery behind,” Erestor replied softly. “Is there a child around to ask?”

Glorfindel spied a thin, male child standing outside of the baker’s shop. Tip-toeing, he held onto the sill of the window and pulled himself up to gaze within. It was not difficult to discern what he was wishing for. The boy could do with a good meal. Carefully guiding Asfaloth closer, he reached for a large silver coin from his pouch and held it out. “Here, child,” he said in the common tongue. “Answer my question and you will have this coin. Where is the home of Robert the leather merchant?”

The boy dropped to his feet and let go of the sill, spinning to look hungrily at the coin that glinted in the fading sunlight. “Master Tanner? ‘is place is down’t end of street. Sign wit’ a ‘orses ‘arness out front.”

“Thank you, child,” Glorfindel said with a smile. He flipped the coin to the lad who deftly caught it, and watched him run into the baker’s shop.

“Soon, Erestor,” Glorfindel whispered. “We must be almost there.”

The street curved; after the bend, there was the sign with the horse’s harness in front of a large building set apart from its neighbors. The shop was closed and dark. Glorfindel dismounted and knocked loudly at the door, stepping back to watch the windows above the shop.

A head covered with curly brown hair and attached to a small boy appeared at the window. “We’re closed, Sir! Come back tomorrow morning.”

“Run and get your father for me, young one!” Glorfindel called up. “I promise you he would wish it!”

Erestor heard the boy call out, “Da!” followed by a deeper voice demanding to know who it was who disturbed his family’s supper. The counselor moved his hood away from his face enough for the man to see him, turning his head towards the sound of the voices.

“Who? What…?” Robert Tanner stumbled on his words when he saw who waited below. “Oh, dear heavens above! Fry me for a fish! You wait there, Master, and I’ll be right down!”

“Thank the Valar,” Glorfindel sighed, helping Erestor down from his horse. “I feared he would not be here.” He stood with his arm around the counselor’s waist.

A small side door next to the shop opened and a tall, burly man rushed out, followed by his three sons. He was of middle age with a light dusting of grey in his hark hair. “What brings you here, Master Erestor? Lord Glorfindel?” the tanner asked in a whisper.

“Robert, we need your help. Erestor was wounded in a battle with ruffians on the road a few hours west,” Glorfindel said quietly. “He was blinded by a blow to the head. We have come looking for shelter in secret so he can rest for a day or two and I can attend to his head injury before we continue the journey home. I would prefer that no one else know about us since we are traveling alone. I would also prefer that we not be connected with the six dead bodies lying alongside the road, but I would be grateful if you would notify your authorities about them somehow so they can have a proper burial.”

The tanner nodded and then spoke to his sons. “John, you take the horses ‘round to the barn and make sure they’re brushed and given good food and water. Then bring the saddlebags and the rest of their gear into the house.” The middle of the three boys, a lad of about twelve years, immediately moved to the horses and began to lead them to the barn behind the family’s home and business.

“What’ll I say if any of the workers sees ‘em and asks about ‘em, Da?” John asked.

“Just tell ‘em I’ve some old friends stayin’ here to visit with me a spell,” Robert answered, “and they’re not to be botherin’ ‘em with questions. Tell ‘em they’re on a religious pilgrimage – that should keep ‘em from being too curious.”

“We best take the swords and bows and the rest of them weapons up now then, Da. They’re a sure give-a-way that there’s Elves here,” Robert’s eldest son, Tom, said. “The saddles we made here so they’re all right.”

Robert nodded and reached for the weapons, shaking his head when Glorfindel tried to take some of them. “I’ll carry ‘em, milord,” he said. “You need to help Master Erestor up those stairs. Tom, you run down to The Prancing Pony and see if them two Elves that were here earlier are still there. They wanted to take their supper there before goin’ on their way, and with luck they’ll be there still. Look for ‘em quiet-like, and tell ‘em your Da forgot to give ‘em something and to come back quick. Don’t you go an’ tell anyone that Master Erestor and Lord Glorfindel are here, but you make sure you bring ‘em two back.”

“I’ll do it, Da,” Tom said, nodding. “Be back in a wink.” The tall, sturdy, dark-haired boy of about sixteen years was off down the street at a brisk pace.

“Willem, you go and get your ma and help her make up the bed in the spare bedroom with fresh linens and put clean water in the pitcher on the washstand,” the tanner said, speaking to his youngest son of about eight years. Will dashed back into the house. He shared his brothers’ dark hair and would be as tall and strong as his siblings.

“You bring Master Erestor inside to the kitchen, milord, and we’ll get a good meal into the two of you while there’s water heatin’ for a nice bath. We got a nice big tub we’ll put in the bedroom for you.” Robert led the way back through the small side door and up a narrow flight of stairs.

“What two Elves, Robert?” Glorfindel asked in concern as he led Erestor up the stairs. He was not aware of any Elves who would be traveling this way.

“Those twin sons of Lord Elrond,” Robert answered. “Their da told ‘em to come and get some big pieces of leather for makin’ into clothes from me, knowin’ I wasn’t due to make another trip to Rivendell for some months.” The Elves of Rivendell often purchased large amounts of leather from the tanner to supplement their own supplies, being unwilling to slaughter animals simply for their hides.

“Then I pray they are still there and your son brings them back,” Glorfindel said. “Elladan and Elrohir are healers, as their father is. Nothing could be better, unless it was Lord Elrond himself.”

Erestor had stood in silence while the others talked outside the house, and remained silent as they ascended the stairs. It was much easier to let Glorfindel do the speaking while his head still pounded. Halfway up the stairs he suddenly stopped, however. “Glorfindel,” he hissed. “Please stop dragging me like a dog. Let go of my arm and let me take yours instead. Just don’t out-pace me or pull me along. I have to feel for the steps with my feet.”

“Forgive me, Erestor,” Glorfindel said sheepishly. “I have never helped someone who could not see before.”

Erestor sighed. “I know. I have never done this before either, but I find it is very nerve-wracking to be pulled and you are going too fast. Forgive me for being sharp and sounding ungrateful. I could not do this without you.”

Glorfindel placed Erestor’s hand on his arm. “Then we will learn how to do this together, my friend.”

A comfortable chair was brought into the kitchen for Erestor to sit in and placed before the table. He sank into it appreciatively, resting his head on the high back. “Thank you, Robert,” he said. “I do not think I could have easily continued our journey, and I dread the thought of staying in some strange inn with curious onlookers.”

“You think nothin’ of it, Master Erestor,” Robert replied, his speech beginning to slip into the careful enunciation of the Elves, as it always did when he was around them. “You Elves have helped me often enough, and the leather and goods you buy has kept my family fed for many a year. How many times have I stayed in the comfort of a nice room in Rivendell and eaten at table with you Elves, and Lord Elrond, bless ‘im, accepting nothin’ in payment for it? This is my chance to do something good in return like.”

“We are most grateful, Robert,” Glorfindel said. “Erestor, do you think you could eat something now? You have taken nothing since this morning before we set out, and you lost that a few times over. You must be starving.”

“My stomach is feeling better,” Erestor answered, hoping it was true and he could keep some food down. “If only my head would stop throbbing. But I am hungry and I think I can eat now.”

Robert cut a loaf of bread and a brick of cheese into slices and set them on the table, along with two bowls of a stew made from meat and vegetables. He placed two plates in front of the Elves. “You help him eat now, milord, but don’t go feeding him,” he said, nodding knowingly. “Put his bread and cheese on the plate and put one of his hands on it so he can find it to feed himself. He can feel that well enough to know when it’s gone. Then make sure the pieces of meat and vegetables in his stew are cut up small enough for his spoon, and when he wants to eat the stew, put the bowl in front of him and put his spoon in his hand. Put his other hand on the side of the bowl so he knows where it is. Keep an eye on him and let him know when it starts to get empty so you can help him get the last bits out of the bowl.” He placed two mugs of ale on the table. “Put his hand on the mug and let him put it where he wants so he can find it again to drink, but help him if he loses track of it. A blind person can feed themselves, but it helps to have someone looking out for him so they can find things and don’t spill or feel like an idiot. And always remember to tell Master Erestor what’s before him and if it’s cut up or not, otherwise he won’t know without touching it and maybe making a mess of things. And him trying to cut up his own food isn’t a good idea if he can’t see it.”

“Once again, we are in your debt, Robert,” Glorfindel said gratefully. He never would have thought of all the things the tanner had just explained. He guided Erestor’s hands to his plate of bread and cheese, whispering how many pieces there were of each.

“Blind or not don’t matter – a man deserves to know what’s before him,” Robert said, not quite through with his instructions. “So tell him what he’s got before him so he knows how to eat it. You don’t want someone watching to pity him because no one is helping him and making sure he’s not bringing an empty spoon to his mouth or spilling things down his front. That don’t have to happen if you’re careful like. And Master Erestor, now don’t you be ashamed of asking questions about things and asking for help. You let your pride get in the way and you do nothin’ but frustrate yourself and get angry, and that’ll help no way.”

“How did you gain all this knowledge, Robert?” Erestor asked. He was more thankful to Robert for his advice than he could put into words. He had spent much of his quiet time on the way to Bree thinking of just these things, wondering how he was ever going to manage without his eyesight. The more he thought of it, the more frightened and depressed he had become, although he had managed to conceal it from Glorfindel.

“My old ma, she was blind for many a year. Took us some figuring out, I tell you,” the tanner replied. “That thing with Lord Glorfindel pulling you along – used to make her madder than a wet cat. She’d slap our hands away till we got it right.” He chuckled at the memory.

With Glorfindel’s help and coaching, Erestor managed to eat his meal without spilling anything or feeling inadequate. He had nearly finished when they heard the sound of horses and voices down below in front of the shop, and then feet coming up the stairs.

Tbc…