My Heart's Desire - Part 2. If You Go Away.

A/N: Well, yeah, here is a new chapter. Finally. Thank you all for being so patient and for still checking out on my story. ^^

Chapter 10. A Reason to Live.


When velvet twilights enveloped the parks and gardens of Imladris, the twins went to check Gildor’s suite again. It was as empty and quiet as before. They headed for the stables then and what they saw or rather did *not* see there made them hurry to their father’s study.

“He is gone!” they announced in agitation as they rushed inside.

Elrond looked up from his papers. “Who is gone?”

“Gildor,” Elrohir explained. “Silivren is not in the stables.”

“Did he not leave any word where he went?” Elrond asked, leaning back in his chair.

“No! No one saw him ride out.” Elladan looked really troubled.

“Ada, can you not farspeak with him?” Elrohir asked pleadingly. “Can you find out where he is?”

Elrond was silent for a long moment but then sighed and shook his head. “He has shut himself from the world. I cannot reach him. There is nothing to worry about, though,” he added after a look at his sons’ concerned faces. “Perhaps he went after Haldir. They still can make up and come back together.”

The twins exchanged a glance. They did not share their father’s optimism. But they had no idea where to start searching for Gildor so there was nothing else for them to do but to wait and pray he would return on his own.

They spent a cheerless evening in futile waiting, their anxiety increasing. Glorfindel was also worried, though he managed to hide it better. He shot Elrond questioning looks now and again but the Lord of the house kept on shaking his head in response. He was unable to reach through to Gildor: the Vanya was blocking any attempt at communicating with him.

Finally the twins retired to their chambers but Elladan refused to go to bed: he felt too restless. Elrohir ended up falling asleep in an armchair. He did not sleep for long, though. Elladan woke him up before dawn.

“Get up, Ro! Get up! We must go!”

“What? Where?” Elrohir blinked at him drowsily as his brother dragged him up onto his feet.

“We must hurry.” Elladan was pulling him along after himself now. “I know where Gildor is.”

“You do?”

“Yes, at least approximately.”

“Shouldn’t we speak to Ada first? Or Glorfindel?”

“There is no time for that. Something terrible has happened. Don’t you feel it?”

Elladan’s agitation quickly infected Elrohir and they crossed the yard to the stables at a run. As they galloped out of the gates, Elrohir tried to alert their father. He was not too good at farspeaking yet but Elrond was the person he could reach practically always. It was more difficult this time because their father was asleep but in the end Elrohir managed to wake him up and tell him where they were heading.

Elrohir kept throwing glances at his brother as their horses were carrying them forward. Elladan looked grave and was definitely in a mission mode. Though the elder twin shared no other bond with Gildor than that of friendship, sometimes it was simply bewildering how well he could feel Gildor’s emotional state. By the expression on Elladan’s face and by the way he urged his horse Elrohir knew things had to be really serious.

They rode out of the valley and turned eastward. Suddenly they saw a flash of white and recognized Gildor’s stallion. Without the rider… Elrohir rather felt than heard Elladan’s gasp. When Silivren was sure they had noticed him, he turned and cantered to a grove further ahead. The twins followed him.

They found Gildor lying on the grass, motionless, lifeless, with his eyes closed. Elladan blanched at the sight.

“Oh no!”

He tumbled down from his saddle and rushed to Gildor’s side. “Oh no, nonono!”

He pressed his fingers to Gildor’s throat, searching for his pulse and gasped at how cold his skin was to the touch.

“Ro!” He looked up with frantic eyes. “I can’t feel his pulse! Do something! Anything!”

Elrohir kneeled on the other side of Gildor’s body and felt for his heartbeat. Finally he was able to perceive it, though it was very faint.

“He is still alive,” Elrohir told his twin. “But he has gone very far.”

He checked Gildor for wounds. There were none. Elrohir frowned and then looked at Elladan. “Ada says to bring him home as fast as we can.”

Elladan wrapped Gildor in their cloaks to keep him warm and they got on their way back. When their lather-covered horses finally brought them to the Last Homely House, they were met by Elrond and Glorfindel. Glorfindel took Gildor over from Elladan and carried him into the House of Healing. Elrond directed him to one of the wards where Glorfindel lay Gildor’s still form down on a bed and unwrapped the cloaks. Elrond took one look at the Vanya and ordered, “Out! All of you.”

He spoke in the sort of voice that compelled immediate obedience. His sons and his seneschal left without any argument and closed the door behind them. They spent the next two hours, watching that door anxiously.

Elladan paced the room back and forth, muttering curses. His ceaseless pendulum-like motion rubbed on Elrohir’s nerves.

“For pity’s sake, El!” he exclaimed finally. “Do stay still for a moment. You’ll wear a groove in the floor.”

“I cannot,” the elder twin muttered darkly. “When I think of all the battles and wars Gildor has survived only to end up like this – it just drives me crazy! I swear I’ll kill that Lórien bastard with my own hands if Gildor… if anything happens to Gildor.”

“Are you sure Haldir is to blame for Gildor’s current state?” Elrohir tried to reason with him.

Elladan’s eyes narrowed. “Who else? You know where we found Gildor. It means he went after him, right?”

“Right.”

“Obviously, they talked and that… that son of an orc said or did something nasty enough to make Gildor seek death.”

Elrohir shook his head. “How do you know they talked? Maybe something happened to Gildor before he could overtake Haldir?”

Elladan gave his brother a sarcastic look. “Do you believe it yourself?”

No, Elrohir did not believe it. He thought that Elladan’s reconstruction of the events was most probably correct.

Glorfindel did not take part in their discussion. He felt that in a way he was responsible for things turning out like this. If he had not stopped the twins from going searching for Gildor at once, now his friend would not be knocking at the door to the Halls of Waiting. He was castigating himself for the wrong decision he had made. But how on Arda could he have foreseen that Gildor, who had always been so strong and who seemed to be able to weather just *any* storm, would break down so suddenly and so devastatingly fast? Perhaps, if he had been there for Gildor, Gildor would have been able to survive this stroke of fate as well? Would he ever know now?

They were waiting for the door to open, but still all three of them started when it finally did.

“Ada, are you well?” Elrohir asked in concern.

Elrond, who looked pallid and dead tired, nodded in response to Elrohir’s query. Then there was a pause as neither Glorfindel nor the twins dared ask the question hovering on the tips of their tongues.

“He is alive,” Elrond said at last. “But he is still unconscious.”

“When will he come to himself?” Elladan wanted to know.

Elrond shrugged wearily. “When he chooses to. Or *if* he chooses to.”

“What do you mean?” Glorfindel inquired sharply.

Elrond gave his friend a sad look. “He did not want to come back. I had to fight him and force him to return. If he ever comes to his senses, I doubt he will be happy to find he is still alive.”

Glorfindel gave it a thought and then spoke again. “In case Gildor chooses to stay among the living after all, I suggest we tell everyone he rode out of Imladris, was attacked and took a bad wound. He would not wish the reason for his breakdown to become public knowledge.”

Elrond nodded in agreement, acknowledging the wisdom of Glorfindel’s words.


Gildor was floating in nothingness, which was soothing and quiet. He did not know where he was or who he was or how he had got there – and he did not care. He vaguely remembered that the place he had come from was not so peaceful and the person he had been was not very happy. So he was grateful to be just some anonymous no one, drifting in the middle of nowhere. Several times he thought he heard voices calling him. But he did not want his serene solitude to be disturbed so he ignored them and after a while he stopped hearing them.

At times he saw blurred images that he believed could be visions of his previous life. And then there were periods of warm darkness when he truly became a part of all-embracing nothingness. These periods happened more and more often and lasted longer. And he welcomed them…

Then at some point he saw light ahead. Or was it behind him? He was surprised, but only vaguely. And he did not want to move: he was not interested. But he was carried towards the light by some invisible current. When he was brought closer, he saw a large sphere that emitted soft glow. There were three people inside it. It took him several long moments to recognize them. But when he did, he instantly remembered who *he* was: Nairalindë. Two of the elves in that crystal globe were his parents. Nairalindë was drinking in the sight of them hungrily. They looked exactly like he remembered them: his mother gentle and golden-haired and gloriously beautiful and his father tall and calm and radiating strength and kindness. When Nairalindë was able to tear his eyes off them, he saw with surprise that the third elf was Ermenor, his old and long-lost friend. Ah, here there *were* changes. There was no hidden sadness in Ermenor’s eyes any longer and the braids in his hair told Nairalindë that his friend had a bonded mate now. For some reason the notion of a bonded mate seemed alarming to Nairalindë, even painful. And suddenly the realization hit him full-force: he was Nairalindë no longer, he was *Gildor*. And as if some dam burst inside his head, memories rushed down on him. He remembered what had happened and why he was here and though he had no idea where this “here” was, he was absolutely certain he did not wish to return to where he had come from. Home - that was the place he wanted to go to.

He looked at his parents again and saw that they were talking to him. He could not hear their voices but somehow knew that instead of welcoming him with open arms as he had expected them to they were urging him to go back. He felt being pushed away, gently but insistently as if the light coming out of the sphere were thickening into a luminous tidal wave. Gildor gasped. He did not want to leave!

‘Ada! Nana! Help me!’

But they were shaking their heads ‘no’. Gildor’s heart fell: he was again being rejected by someone he loved. What was he to do? He turned his eyes to Ermenor. His friend was looking at him with understanding and sympathy. Of course he would know how Gildor was feeling right now: he had been in Gildor’s shoes himself. It was this very agony that made him go away and get himself killed.

As Gildor was carried by the relentless current farther and farther away from the luminous sphere he felt more and more forlorn and cold, oh so cold.


For two long weeks Elrond and his sons changed each other by Gildor’s sickbed as no one else was allowed into the room to keep the details of Gildor’s illness a secret. All this time Gildor remained unconscious, his heartbeat becoming fainter with each passing day. The twins tried not to give in to despair and prayed for a miracle. But the Valar seemed to keep their ears closed as Elladan put it, and instead of getting better things got worse: by the end of the second week Gildor developed a fever. He was burning; his skin dry and hot, his lips parched. The twins kept wrapping him in cool damp sheets to lessen his bodily heat but it did little good as the cloth got dried within minutes. Even Elrond’s potion, some of which they managed to pour into Gildor’s throat, did not help much. By the night Gildor was delirious.

Listening to his feverish talk, the twins were finally able to deduce what had happened on the way to Lórien.

“Why?” Elladan exclaimed, wiping away angry tears. “Why did he have to choose that piece of crap when anyone, just anyone would be happy and grateful to be with him?” He slammed his fist into his palm. “Ah, Haldir of Lórien, you are lucky you’ve run away so far and so fast and I cannot follow you right away. For I badly want to spill your dark blood.”

Elrohir remained silent but his anger was boiling just as hot as Elladan’s.

By the middle of the night Gildor suddenly began shivering with cold. His forehead was still burning but his hands and feet were icy. The twins wrapped him in fur blankets but it was no use: shivers continued to wrack Gildor’s body.

“What do we do now?” Elladan looked at his brother helplessly.

Elrohir chewed on his lip, thinking. “Get undressed, El,” he commanded and started opening his own shirt.

Elladan understood his twin’s intention and followed his example quickly. They got into bed and cradled Gildor between them, lending him the warmth of their bodies. He went on moaning and shaking for some time longer but then he grew quiet and still. So still in fact, that Elladan panicked but Elrohir squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and smiled.

“He has fallen asleep,” he whispered.

It was how Elrond found them next morning: all three cuddled together and in deep slumber. He woke up his sons, careful not to disturb the Vanya, and sent them to their rooms to get some proper rest.

“The worst is over,” he told them. “He will live now.”


When Gildor finally awoke, it was Elrond that he saw by his bedside.

“Welcome back,” Elrond smiled.

Gildor looked at him for several moments as if he could not quite understand who Elrond was and what he was talking about. Then he turned away and closed his eyes. Elrond sighed. It looked like it was as bad as he had feared it would be: Gildor was not overjoyed to be returned.

During the next few days Elrond, his sons and Glorfindel tried in turns to bring Gildor out of his apathy, but in vain. The Vanya was uncooperative and unresponsive. He did not speak, refused food and drink and rarely opened his eyes at all. Finally the Lord of the house decided to try another approach.

“If you want to leave,” he told Gildor, “fine, do it. But do it differently, not like this. Take a ship, sale west. Then at least you won’t leave us with this awful feeling that we have failed you, that we have not tried hard enough to find a way to help you. That it all is our fault.”

Gildor turned his head to look at him wearily. “It is not your fault,” he said quietly.

“I know. And I know that it is irrational but this is how we feel. How you *make* us feel. I do not want my sons to live for the rest of eternity with this burden on their souls.”

“All right,” Gildor sighed. “I’ll talk to them.”

Now that he had managed to get some reaction from Gildor, Elrond decided to push him a little more.

“You must eat,” he told him. “And you’d better do it on your own for in no way we will let you starve yourself to death.”

Gildor closed his eyes for a moment. Elrond did not understand… He did not refuse food out of stubbornness. He simply *could not* eat. He had neither strength, nor wish to explain that to Elrond though. So he sat up in his bed slowly and accepted the bowl of broth Elrond was offering him. However, he was not able to take much of it. After several mouthfuls he had to make a hasty way to the bathroom with Elrond’s help where he was violently sick. It made Elrond realize that it was not Gildor’s body that refused nutrition; it was his mind, or rather his subconscious. Gildor was resenting the fact that he had been forced back to life and Elrond had yet to find a way to draw him out of his severe depression; or shock him out of it, if need be.

In the meantime he managed by trial and error to concoct a sustaining mixture that Gildor was able to keep inside. Elrohir added some herbs to it, turning it into a sweetly smelling and tasting tisane, and did his best to coax Gildor into drinking it as often as he could. In the evenings he mixed sleeping potion into it for Gildor to get a good night’s rest because falling asleep on his own was almost as problematic for the Vanya as taking food.

Glorfindel could not stay in Imladris for long as he had his duties and responsibilities but the twins remained by Gildor’s side. He made an attempt to persuade them to leave him and go on with their lives.

“You do not have to feel chained to me,” he told them. “You have done nothing for which you have to make up to me. Nothing of what happened came to pass through any fault of yours. You would not have been able to mess things up so thoroughly anyway. It takes millennia of experience... ”

Still the twins stayed. They did their best to keep Gildor cheerful company but at times despair got the better even of them. For Elladan the feeling of helplessness was especially hard to deal with. Gildor overheard him complaining to his brother one afternoon when they thought he was drowsing.

“I feel so powerless, Ro, that it drives me mad,” the elder twin admitted. “It’s like it was with Mother: I wish desperately I could do something to help but I cannot… It’s so painful that I want to scream or ride out and hunt down some orcs to vent my rage and frustration.”

“I know, melethen,” Elrohir stroked Elladan’s hair soothingly. “I know… ”

Gildor hated being the cause of pain for the ones he loved. But what could he do? He wished they had just let him die a month ago… His memory took him back to his wanderings in emptiness. He thought of his parents and of Ermenor. Suddenly his eyes flew open. He could take Ermenor’s way! He also could go fighting and fall in battle. It was a much faster and much more agreeable way to die than to fade away miserably on a sickbed.

“Elladan,” he said in an unexpectedly strong voice, startling the twins, “do not go hunting orcs yet. I want to join you.”

There was a striking change in Gildor’s state after that day. Neither the twins nor their father could fathom the reason for it but they welcomed it whole-heartedly nevertheless. Gildor still had to take sleeping potion at night but he was able to eat and started getting up. After several days he said he was strong enough to leave the House of Healing and move back into his own rooms. Elrond was hesitant to allow it but Gildor’s stubbornness returned along with his strength and he refused to listen to any objections.

“You are an irksome patient,” Elrond complained jokingly.

Gildor shrugged it off. “Serves you right. You should have let me die. Then you would have got rid of me once and for all.”

Elrond was unable to decide if Gildor meant it seriously or was joking as well.


Gildor took a deep breath and opened the door to his suite. He walked through the front chamber slowly, looking around. The rooms had been prepared for his return: they were cleaned, aired and decorated with fresh flowers. But Gildor could not suppress a feeling that he was walking through desolate ruins. Love was gone from the place and now it was merely a space within four walls. Gildor swallowed, trying to get rid of the taste of ashes in his mouth. He knew he could do nothing about it now; just live with this emptiness in his home and in his heart. At least, live for some time…

He drew a hot bath and lay in it, trying not to think, not to remember and failing miserably. When the water started cooling, he washed, got out of the bath and did something he had rarely done before: he put on his sleeping pants. Then he went to bed, or rather he went as far as the bedside. He stood there, looking at his devastatingly large and empty bed and could not make himself climb into it. Finally he took a pillow and a blanket and moved to a sofa in the sitting room. There he was able to fall asleep in the end.


The twins felt very uncomfortable, letting Gildor out of their sight. They remembered only too well what had happened the last time Gildor was left to his own devices. They decided to check on him before going to bed. The twins made their way down the hidden stairs stealthily and listened by his door. All was quiet. They were debating silently if they should enter or not when there came a sudden scream from inside. The twins rushed in, forgetting all their doubts.

They were surprised to find Gildor on the couch in the living room. He was moaning and crying. Elladan hurried to the couch, sat down and collected the Vanya into his arms.

“It’s all right. We are here. It’s all right,” he murmured soothingly.

Gildor clung to him. “Don’t go! Don’t leave me! Please… ”

“We never will, dagnir-e-guilen. I swear!”

“El,” Elrohir whispered. “He is still asleep.”

Elladan pulled away a little to have a look at the Vanya and found that his brother was right. Stunned, he realized *what* kind of nightmare had been haunting Gildor. He pressed him closer to his chest.

‘What do we do now, Ro? We cannot leave him like that. Should we wake him up?’

Elrohir thought for a moment and shook his head.

‘No. Take him to the bedroom. There is not enough place for all of us on the couch.’

Elladan picked Gildor up and carried him into the bedchamber, Elrohir following close behind. They got into the spacious bed and settled there in much the same way they had done in the House of Healing, with Gildor being cradled between them like a baby bird between two warm palms.

Gildor woke up, feeling cosy and – for some reason – protected. But when he suddenly realized that the warmth he had been relishing came from two hard bodies on both sides of him, he bolted upright, the last remnants of drowsiness falling off him rapidly. The twins sat up as well. Elladan slid further along the bed and turned to face Gildor.

“It’s all right,” he patted Gildor’s knee soothingly. “It’s only us.”

Gildor felt terribly disoriented. He did not remember how the twins had come to be in bed with him or what the three of them could have possibly done during the night. Elladan saw confusion in his eyes.

“You had a nightmare,” he explained. “We heard you screaming and came in. We did not want to leave you alone after that.”

Gildor winced. “Was I that loud?”

Elladan just shrugged. Gildor closed his eyes for a moment. How awfully embarrassing and utterly humiliating! He was genuinely grateful he had not at any rate gone to bed naked, as was his wont. Elrohir touched his shoulder gently.

“Gildor, you do not have to put up a brave front for us. We won’t think less of you even if you admit that you are not invulnerable.”

Gildor looked up and a faint smile touched his lips. It seemed Elrohir had inherited his father’s wisdom.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “I am grateful for your care, I truly am. But I am fine and safe now so you can leave me and return to your rooms.”

The twins made their way back down the hidden staircase. When they emerged from behind the tapestry in the family wing, they suddenly heard a loud gasp and saw a maid with a pile of linen in her hands further along the passage. She watched, wide-eyed, as the young Lords of Imladris, dressed only in low-sitting silk sleeping pants, crossed the corridor and disappeared behind the door to their suite.

“Did we make such a stunning sight?” Elladan asked laughingly when they entered the room.

Elrohir chuckled. “What do you think she saw?”

“Two gorgeous males?”

“Certainly. What else?”

“Two scantily dressed gorgeous males?”

“Yes. But that’s not all.”

“Sneaking back in the morning?”

“Yes. From Gildor’s wing.”

“And…?”

“And his previous lover is gone.”

“Oh... Do you think we’ve set the mills of gossip working?”

“We most definitely have.”

They looked at each other. Then Elladan shrugged. “Well, it won’t be the first time. I hope Gildor will not mind it too much.”


The twins spent the first part of the day in the forge. They enjoyed working with metal, moulding it into things their imagination created. They loved the heat coming from the furnace and the heavy weight of hammers in their hands; the ringing sound, with which said hammers hit the anvil and the hot bright sparkles that flew from under them.

They had just finished a tall girandole for their father’s study. They had been working on it for a long time and now they were examining it carefully to see if there were any faults in their creation. At this moment the door to the forge opened and Gildor walked in.

“Gildor!” they exclaimed together, glad to see he was strong enough to get out of his room.

“How do you feel?” Elrohir asked then in concern.

“I am fine,” Gildor replied tersely, rolling up his sleeve. Then he stretched his arm and commanded, “Take it off!”

The twins looked at the silver bracelet on his wrist.

“We’ll have to break it to do it,” Elladan warned him.

“Do whatever you must, just take it off,” Gildor said impatiently.

The halves of the bracelet were sundered apart in a matter of minutes. Gildor gave a little sigh of relief and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Elladan stopped him. “What should I do with this?” He showed him the silver plates.

“I do not care.” Gildor closed the door behind himself.

Elladan looked vindictively at the remnants of Haldir’s present, threw them on the anvil and picked up his hammer.

“No!” Elrohir said suddenly. “I’ll take that.”

Elladan turned around, surprised. “What? Why?”

“He might want it back one day.”

Elladan’s eyes narrowed. “No way!”

“El, give that to me. Now!”

Elrohir rarely spoke in that sort of voice but when he did, Elladan never dared argue with him.

“As you wish.” Elladan moved aside and Elrohir picked up the parts of the bracelet and tucked them away into his pocket.


Gildors was leaning his elbows on the railing of his terrace, watching the Sun slide down slowly and disappear behind the tops of the tall trees. He rubbed his wrist absentmindedly: it felt oddly bare without the broad band of his bracelet. Gildor sighed. He had to get used to the fact that emptiness would be a part of his life from now on. He buried his face in his hands, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of despair.

‘Why, Haldir? Why? Why did you have to go away? Why could I not be enough? What is so wrong with me? What do I lack? What did I do wrong that you could not be happy with me?’

The pain he was suffering was excruciating. He could feel his heart break into thousand pieces and each of those pieces was bleeding. Gildor wished he could cry but tears would not come and his eyes remained dry. He knew that if he wanted to preserve his sanity, he should stop thinking of Haldir and everything connected with Haldir. It was too painful yet. The best thing for him to do was to push those thoughts and questions into the farthest corner of his mind and leave them there until he was strong enough to bring them out, to analyze them rationally and to find the answers he needed so badly. But not now, definitely not now… Valar, would there ever be time when he would be able to think of all that calmly?


Elladan and Elrohir were sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall on both sides of Gildor’s door. They were keeping watch, waiting for something that they dreaded but somehow knew that it would come…

When the next morning Gildor woke up between the twins again, he was not surprised and did not ask any questions. But it took him several nights more to resign himself to the inevitable and to move to the twins’ bed. He preferred to sleep in their room for that way he was able to slip away in the morning and give the twins a chance to wake up in each other’s arms and to have some quality time together without a lodger in their bed.

Gildor started training, his strength and his skills returning to him quickly. He informed Elrond of his wish to give up his rank of Captain of the guard and to ride out orc hunting with the twins. Elrond was not overjoyed with Gildor’s decision but he was wise enough to understand that at the moment such a drastic change in his life style was perhaps the best thing for Gildor. The less chance the Vanya had to dwell on his loss, the quicker he would be able to overcome it. So Elrond gave Gildor his permission but told him that he regarded his resignation only as temporary one. Gildor shrugged and did not waste time on arguing.

So one early August morning Gildor left Imladris in company of the twins to seek the cure for his heartbreak.