A Planned Event

Chapter 11


Standing upon the shore where sand meets water, Erestor watched as the sea
sparkled like jewels from the reflecting moonlight. For how long Erestor stood there and watched, he could not recall. Time stood still except for the occasional passing of clouds obscuring the moon, rendering blackness so deep, that it was hard for even Elven eyes to see. The sparkle would return as the cloud continued its journey onward.

Foam stuck on his boots from the kiss of the sea water. Rushing to his feet, teasing them with a caress, only to be snatched back into the jealous and clutching hand of the sea. Each ebb and flow of the waves was as the joys and losses of his life. In came the rush of happiness, only to be snatched back from whence it came. Laughing at the irony of it all, he felt the very sea was mocking him. Sighing heavily, he wrapped his arms around his torso looking into the face of the moon. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he felt a sudden chill; sensing something or someone, he made to move but before he could he found himself locked in a powerful embrace from behind. Quickly, a cloth was placed over his mouth and nose where the sickening sweet swell of dwale* filled his nostrils. Nearly in an instant, his pupils dilated making everything fuzzy; his knees buckled before him, making his face hit the sand hard. The cool night air blew against his skin as his leggings were roughly yanked down around his ankles. He hazily heard a familiar voice spitting out words of hatred and loathing behind his ear, “think you are too good for me, you whore!” The last thing he felt was a sudden searing pain before blackness enveloped him.

He was in a fitful sleep. His name was being called. No, his name was being screamed at him. Gasping awake with a start, Erestor sat up with his head spinning and groaned as his feet touched the cool marble of the floor. Cursing his girth and blinking sleep from his eyes, he walked towards the voice calling him. “Damn it Erestor! Are you deaf? Did you not hear me yelling for you?!” cursed Ecthelion as he came into view.

Erestor’s eyes widened at the sight of his lord, for Ecthelion was covered in blood and filth, his sword still in hand as he made a grab for Erestor’s arm. “Leave it to you to sleep while our city is attacked!” Ecthelion continued to yell and curse at Erestor even as he dragged said Elf along with him.

“Damn you Erestor! Stop dragging your feet and get your arse to the hidden passage now! Follow the others to safety, DO YOU HEAR ME?” Ecthelion stopped abruptly on the stairs, causing Erestor to bump into him and he began to lose his footing. Strong arms caught him before he could fall, and upon seeing the wide-eyed look of fear in those brown eyes, Ecthelion’s demeanor softened. “Keep my son safe. You must live, hear me?”

A sob was the only sound that escaped from Erestor’s throat. “Erestor! I command you to do this!” Ecthelion yelled in earnest as he shook Erestor’s shoulders. Sighing, Ecthelion caressed Erestor’s tear stained face before placing a gentle kiss upon his lips. Leaning his head down, Ecthelion then kissed the swollen belly where his child grew. It was the first time he had ever done such a gesture. Snapping back to reality by a deafening roar and the renewed screams of the household staff, Ecthelion pulled Erestor down the steps once more and guided him to the back entrance through the kitchen. “Go!” Ecthelion yelled pointing towards the door as he raced back through the house to join in the escalating fight.

Erestor was halfway to the passage when he suddenly stopped and he ran back to the house while holding his abdomen in support. It all was a blur, the smell of sulfur, fire and ash, the screams of the dying and maimed. No one noticed him, for all were concerned with saving their own. Somehow he managed to make his way back up the stairs and into the bedroom to retrieve a small pouch that he kept hidden in a hole in his mattress. Panic hit him and he began to race out the way that he came, though before he reached the kitchen, he noticed it was suddenly eerily quiet in the house save for a sort of hissing sound. As if in a trance, he followed the sound, his feet guiding him to the courtyard.

He gasped at the sight that greeted him there. For there, in the center of the courtyard, in the middle of the fountain, lay a dead balrog, steam rising from its lifeless body causing the horrible hissing sound. Inching his way over, avoiding the dead scattered on the ground, in a morbid fascination, Erestor came to stand at the side of the hideous beast. Peering slowly over the edge of the fountain, his heart dropped. He looked down upon the dead eyes of his master. Ecthelion lay under the fell beast, his face mere centimeters from the surface of the water, drowned, unable to move the weight upon him. His eyes were wild and bugged out from his struggle for breath. His mouth open and curved into a hideous grimace. His dark hair fanned out around him in a macabre scene, seemingly alive with the flow of the water. He heard a sickening sound of agony and screaming around him...before he realized that it was he that was making that noise. He found himself pulled from the horrific display by strong arms. “You must get to the passage, come, I will take you.” Said a sad and tired voice.

Erestor looked over at his rescuer as if he were in a dream. Golden hair matted with blood and gore, blue eyes of the clearest sky, eyes filled with grief , eyes he recognized as belonging to the Lord of the Golden Flower...his rescuer. Eyes that scared him because of the defeat he saw in them. This look frightened Erestor more than anything. And then...then Erestor began to laugh hysterically. Glorfindel’s head snapped back to look at him with question. Erestor immediately covered his mouth with his hand and began to cry. ‘I am losing my mind,’ Erestor thought to himself because he was thinking crazy thoughts. He thought that if Ecthelion was felled in his fountain for which he was named, would Glorfindel's demise be due to a flower? He was becoming hysterical with fear and he clung to the warrior throughout the dark tunnels. As they passed a clearing where the tunnel came out the side of the mountain, the floor began to shake along with a deafening roar echoing behind them. Erestor watched as the warrior’s shoulders slumped before him in defeat. Glorfindel then turned to face his death. He knew he would die, for Erestor could see the resignation in his eyes. “Keep going Erestor...and...and remember us.” These were the last words spoken by the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower.

Erestor started awake. Sweat ran down his face. He felt a cool cloth being placed on his forehead, as his eyes slowly began to focus, “Shh now, lie back down, slowly, that’s it.” Eyes clearing, Erestor looked into the gaze of his friend, Meriliel. Laegon entered the room as Meriliel left to get Molnenion.

“H..how...long?” asked Erestor as his voice came out in a dry whisper.

“You’ve been out for a good three days.” Laegon replied as he gave Erestor little sips of water.

Fear suddenly struck Erestor’s eyes and he made a grab for Laegon’s tunic. “Please, tell me, am I? Did he?”

Laegon smoothed back Erestor’s hair gently. “No, thank the Valar,” answered Laegon quietly, “he didn’t breach you there.”

Erestor visibly relaxed and let out a relieved sigh as the door opened and a worried Molnenion was instantly at his father’s side. “Are you well?” He asked with deep concern as he squeezed his father’s hand. Erestor nodded and tried to smile, though what shown was a trembling chin.

“Did you see who did this to you?” Nenion asked with angry eyes to his father.

“No...I, I only heard his voice.”

“Did you recognize this voice?” Nenion hoped.

Erestor was silent for awhile and then he sighed heavily in defeat while shaking his head. “No, I cannot remember at this time.”

“What did he say to you?”

“I-I- cannot remember!” Erestor’s voice raised in frustration.

“Shh, all is well, be at peace father, all will be well. Please do not fade because of this.” Nenion pleaded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Reaching out and touching his son’s cheek sweetly, Erestor whispered as he began to drift once more into sleep, “I never did before.”

Startled, Nenion turned to Meriliel with a burdened heart. “What, what does he mean by that?”

Meriliel stood and smoothed Nenion’s hair from his brow. “Oh my son, I fear that there is much that we do not know of your father’s past.” Here she paused. “I do believe that he wants it that way.”

Molnenion stood and paced the room. “When I find that Elf who did this to him, he will wish that he was never born!” He hissed angrily.

“Nenion,” groaned Erestor from his bed.

Walking immediately to his father’s side, Nenion leaned down closer to better hear him. “Yes, father?”

“You do nothing to jeopardize your position here, promise me.” Sighing heavily, Nenion closed his eyes. “Promise me!” urged Erestor with import.

Exhaling, Nenion opened his eyes. “I swear this to you.” Came his resigned reply. “I promise.” He added as he kissed his father’s brow before leaving the room.

Later that evening as Erestor was reclining in bed with his eyes closed in healing, he heard first a knock at the door, then whispered words, followed by a familiar dipping of the bed. Someone with considerable weight. He knew in an instant who it was. Opening his eyes , his gaze was filled with the presence of the king.

“I remember first seeing you much the same way so many years ago, only then you had a small infant in your arms.” Gil-Galad smiled, reminiscing while lightly stroking Erestor’s forearm. “Erestor, I am...” he began to speak but found himself cut of mid-sentence.

“Do not Geel,” Erestor spoke softly. “You are the high king, you need not say such words.”

“Oh, but there you are wrong my friend,” Gil’s eyes were smiling at proving Erestor wrong in something. “For a king above all should recognize his short-comings. It makes for a grounded king.” Gil raised his eyebrows to emphasize his point. This made the corners of Erestor's mouth turn up into a slight smile.

“We shall find who did this to you, and they will be duly punished.” Gil-Galad promised as he stood. Erestor just nodded and once more drifted off to sleep. Gil bent and kissed his lips sweetly before leaving.

The next day Erestor was sitting on the balcony of the healing rooms. He sat curled upon a divan, wrapped in a soft blanket, watching the gardeners tending to their palette of living colors. A gentle breeze carefully lifted stray hairs about his comely face. He could hear Meriliel padding about in his room, no doubt changing the sheets and freshening things.

“You have a visitor, it's Lord Elrond,” she paused in the doorway. “Are you up to his visit?”

Turning to look at his friend, he nodded once, 'better to get this over with.' He told himself.

“I hope that I am not disturbing you.” Elrond stated more than asked, as he came into view, first nodding to Erestor and then walking so that he could face Erestor while leaning against the balustrade.

“It is fine.” Came the soft reply.

“I feel I need to ask your forgiveness for the other night.” Elrond rubbed his hands together nervously, his brow creased in concern and self doubt. Erestor did not reply. It was not necessary. He just gave Elrond his full disclosure. Sighing , Elrond continued.

“I...I consider you a friend, Erestor. I value the time we have shared together and the many talks we have had. I desperately wish to keep that friendship with you.” Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose in distress. “I will understand if you cannot forgive me, but please know that I did not pursue Gil, nor he I, it just...happened. I did not think that you and he were still...together, well, honestly, I had hoped that was the case. I listened to the rumors of the court.” Here Elrond shook his head in disgust at his actions. “Actually Erestor, I was a coward and did not bring it up to the king, nor did he to I, so, we...we ..I...I, made a mess of things. Please forgive me. Please?” Elrond then walked over to Erestor who was listening intently, and sank to his knees in front of the junior advisor, tears spilling down his cheeks, shoulders shaking from his grief at hurting his friend.”

Erestor reached over , gently stroking Elrond's hair. “You are forgiven my friend, I know that you harbor no malice in you. Be at peace.”

Elrond was amazed by the selflessness of the advisor. He had always counted Erestor as friend. This gesture solidified his impression of Erestor. Forgiveness came easy for Erestor because he was taught from a mere elfling that he was alive for one purpose only, and that was to serve. It mattered not what he felt or wanted. He was to serve his master's needs. Freedom, as he saw it, also came with its price. Being free without duties meant idleness to him. He served, and he served well. He could never wipe out all those years of training. They were impressed upon him forever. His observations of life gave him an unique ability of being able to see an Elf's true character. Waiting to heed a lord's wishes gave him the knowledge of discerning even the slightest of gestures that went unnoticed by most. This above all would make him into the best advisor that a lord could ever hope to have. It was a gift and a treasure to one who knew to use such a prize.

Elrond rose slowly, “you are an amazing Elf,” he whispered as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Erestor's brow. “Thank you for your forgiveness. Whatever you may need and is in my power to grant, I shall give you.” Elrond then left with a soft rustling of robes.

Erestor felt soft hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently. Looking up, he smiled into the face of Meriliel. “You alright?” She asked him.

“Yes,” his eyes smiled, watching as she sat next to him, pouring tea from the flask on the table before them. They sat together watching butterflies going from flower to flower, tasting the sweetness of the nectars. Neither spoke, it was as always with their friendship, quiet and companionable silences. It was to their utter surprise when they heard shouts and commotion from the hallway. As Meriliel went to see what it was all about, the door opened and a wild-eyed Laegon came into view.

“What is amiss?” asked Meriliel of her distraught husband.

“Glavier... is dead!” Laegon exclaimed. “Nenion found him on the floor of the council room. They are holding Nenion in question!”

They heard a gasp and then a thud, for Erestor had fainted in the doorway.

TBC.....






Glavier- Babbling One
Molnenion- son of slave and water(Quenyan)
Laegon- sharp one
Meriliel- daughter of rose

*dwale:
Common names: Belladonna, deadly nightshade, dwale, devil's herb, love apple, sorcerer's cherry, murderer's berry, dwaleberry, witch's berry, devil's cherry, black cherry, divale, great morel, dwayberry, naughty man's cherries. Once classified as Solanum lethale and Belladonna folia.
Belladonna, also deadly nightshade, common name for an Old World herb , and for a crude drug obtained from the plant.
Belladonna is a biennial or annual plant with large simple leaves and bell-shaped flowers. The flower tube is five-pointed, dull purple or red-purple, and surrounded by five green sepals. The fruit is a single green berry that becomes purple to black with maturity. Belladonna is occasionally grown in gardens in North America but rarely becomes naturalized. It does not normally persist without cultivation.
Other members of the nightshade family are sometimes erroneously called belladonna.
All parts of the true belladonna are poisonous and narcotic. The leaves and root contain alkaloids; one, atropine, is used to dilate the pupils of the eyes, to facilitate eye examinations and as an antispasmodic in the treatment of asthma. In earlier times in Italy, extracts of belladonna were used by women for the cosmetic value of this dilating effect; such use explains the origin of the common name (Italian, "beautiful woman").
Scientific classification: Belladonna belongs to the family Solanaceae. It is classified as Atropa belladonna.