Realization

Title: Realization
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: Lynsey
Websites: see links under userinfo
Beta: None
Chapter: 14/?
Word Count This Chapter: 2021
Pairings: Glorfindel/Erestor, OC/Erestor
Rating: PG-13 this chapter
Warnings: AU
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or its characters. I make no money from this fiction.
Summary: The realization of who you are and where you belong is never easy.
A/N: Sequel to “Tolerance”

The halls were dark and quiet. Most residents of the House were in their individual rooms or homes whiling away the evening hours or preparing for sleep. Elrond’s private suite was situated on a higher floor with sweeping balconies that overlooked the expanse of the Valley and the gorgeous gardens that were covered in a soft coating of snow this time of year. It was beautiful in the moonlight as Glorfindel glanced out the windows. The snow shined and glittered like precious diamonds. Pure and cold. Small oil lamps were lit and spaced evenly along the halls. Their light was warm and soft. The halls themselves were chilled due to the frigid air outside, and Glorfindel was grateful for the warmth of his travel clothes, worn and dirtied that they might be.

The door to the suite opened smoothly, and it was only moments before Glorfindel had located the door to the guest room. From under the door, Glorfindel could see the soft glow of a fire. It was quiet inside, but the warrior didn’t know if it was because Erestor was asleep at this hour or because the darkling was simply a quiet person.

He remembered nights when the young elf would sit so calmly in front of the fire reading his texts. Gentle and silent, but his presence undeniable and comforting. He’d missed that. Valar how he’d missed that. Now his nights were lonely and aching with no warmth or happiness or life.

Before the horrible event in the stables, things had been more than perfect. Erestor and he had been betrothed. It was an unlooked future, but appreciated and utterly welcomed none-the-less. To finally establish himself with someone…what a piece of serendipitous luck. He’d given up long ago of ever having a partner. Elves with his particular tendencies were few and far between. There had been flings, short and without emotion. Never had another stirred his soul like Erestor. Like the quiet, sweet, and utterly charming little Erestor. After resigning himself to a life alone, to finally have someone in his heart…then have them ripped away…

And right behind this door, Erestor was waiting.

Glorfindel sighed and shored up his emotions. He knocked.

A soft thud, a book being closed came to Glorfindel’s keen ears. Padded footsteps sounded across the floor and the door opened.

Erestor’s pale, startled face filled Glorfindel’s vision. Dark circles ringed weary, distressed eyes. Warm sleeping robes wrapped around a much too thin body. Slender feet were ensconced in soft, thick slippers to ward off the chill of stone floors

“M-my lord…” Erestor whispered. His hands shook, cold and clammy with one clenched on the door and the other against his side.

Glorfindel couldn’t move, couldn’t say anything. It was on the tip of his tongue to say anything or say everything, but he was frozen in tormented indecision.

“H….How can I help you?” Erestor managed to choke out. Ever proper. Ever kind.

“How are you?” Glorfindel whispered. He needed to know. He needed to hear it from Erestor’s mouth.

“You-you came here to ask me how I am?” Erestor asked, face confused.

“No,” the warrior admitted quietly. “However, I…just need to hear it.”

Erestor shook his head and looked at the ground. “I can’t possibly answer that in a suitable manner, my lord,” he said with tears thickening his voice. “There is no happy answer.”

Glorfindel lifted his hand, slowly and deliberately, to touch Erestor’s face.

Dark eyes clenched closed, face a mask of pain. “Please don’t do this. Please. It hurts so much,” the last was strangled out as tears spilled down his cheeks to slick Glorfindel’s hand with warm droplets.

Without hesitation or thought, Glorfindel pulled Erestor forward into his embrace. It was home. Home and warmth and everything Glorfindel thought he’d never have again. Erestor’s hand balled up against the warrior’s broad chest and he cried. Despite their circumstances being so complex and staggeringly destructive, the tears Erestor shed were purifying and simple. Glorfindel, too, let himself weep. It was cleansing. It was something both needed, to be in each other’s arms and release their pain and suffering in such a base, unadorned fashion. It was long, trembling minutes they stood in the open doorway and held each other. It was unbelievable to finally be in this place, in this position. It was much longed for yet incapable of being sought. Until this painful reunion of souls too long parted.

“I’m so sorry,” Glorfindel whispered lowly. “I abandoned you. When you needed me the most, I forsook you and the love we shared.”

“I betrayed you. You had every right-”

“No,” the warrior cut him off. “No, I didn’t. I made a promise to you. Do you remember?”

Erestor sobbed, pressing his face deeper into Glorfindel’s body. “You promised…to…never….” He couldn’t continue. The words couldn’t be pushed through each heaving sob.

“To never leave you,” Glorfindel finished for him. “I broke that promise. I let my self-righteousness cloud my thinking. I should never have left you like that. The young make mistakes. Mistakes can be forgiven.”

“Forgive me,” Erestor said poignantly, achingly, questioning the irony of life. “No matter if you forgive me, I’m bound now. Corchvorn…I-he’s…he’s part of my life now.”

“I know,” Glorfindel said and cupped the back of Erestor’s head with a large hand. “We’ll find a way between us.”

The darkling’s eyes widened as a few more tears escaped. “How? How can…we possibly…”

Glorfindel pressed his lips to Erestor’s forehead. “I’ll find a way, little one. I won’t leave you again.”

They were silent for quite some time, just soaking in the other’s presence and detrimentally missed touch.

“What brought you here?” Erestor asked into the quiet late night air. “What stroke of luck brought you back to me?”

“I spoke to Elrond,” Glorfindel said, and to both of them that was the entire explanation. “And…I need to take you to Corchvorn.”

Erestor pulled back a little to look into the taller elf’s eyes. The concern there made a spike of panic rush through Erestor’s heart. “Is he…?” he asked in dread. “But…I would know. I would know,” he clenched fists shook Glorfindel’s worn tunic.

“You would, little dove. He’ll be fine, but he is injured. I came across him two day’s ride from here. He just needs some attention and rest. And you.”

“Take me, please.”

Glorfindel nodded, and, taking Erestor’s arm, lead the smaller elf through the halls to the healing wing. Their steps were quick, although Glorfindel could feel the weakness in Erestor’s stride. The warrior mourned the darkling’s state, and to his silent horror he could feel the padding of bandages under the long sleeves of Erestor’s warm robes. But now was not the time to address such issues. Now, the young scribe needed to be with his husband.

In the healing wing, the apprentice was finishing up a rather neat bandage on Corchvorn’s leg. The young messenger looked asleep, his face relaxed against the pillow and chocolate hair tumbled out of its hasty knot.

Erestor rushed forward, letting go of Glorfindel to kneel at the side of the bed. The warrior hung back to let the darkling have a moment with his husband.

“Corchvorn?” Erestor whispered. He grasped one of Corchvorn’s hands and touched the side of his face with the other.

The bigger boy blinked his eyes open slowly, hazily. “’Res?”

“Yes.”

“I missed you,” Corchvorn said muzzily. He turned into the hand cupping his face.

Erestor leaned down and kissed Corchvorn’s dry, cracked lips. “I missed you, too.”

“How are you?” Corchvorn asked softly.

The darkling smiled almost sadly. “You always worry for me, even when you are the one laying on the cot in the healing wing.”

“I love you,” the bigger boy murmured as an explanation.

“I love you, too,” Erestor responded with stark honesty.

Corchvorn’s eyes widened at the words. Despite the haze of pain-killing drugs, the young warrior registered the expression that Erestor had never bestowed upon him before. Tears immediately came to his eyes and spilled over. He reached up with shaky limbs and embraced Erestor as well as he could. The young scribe hugged back, for the first time feeling like the arms around him were natural and right.

Glorfindel felt a silent presence at his side. A quick glance revealed Elrond with a stoppered bottled in hand. “For the infection,” the healer said in an extremely soft whisper so as not to interrupt the beautiful moment in front of them. “When he leaves here, he will need a spoonful of this every two hours. I’ll leave it by the entrance so you can pick it up on your way out. I also secured a private convalescing room for you, just there,” he pointed to an open door in a long line of closed entryways. “You can take your younglings there for the remainder of the night and as long as you need tomorrow. I’ll be near if you need me. Any of you.”

The blond nodded in thanks and stepped forward. Erestor and Corchvorn looked up as the powerful presence of the great warrior came close.

“Come, little ones. It’s time you both had some rest.” He helped Erestor to stand, and then gently lifted the injured boy from the bed. The dark scribe followed along as Glorfindel lead him into the small, clean private room.

A room much like this had signaled the end of their relationship. Not so very long ago, Erestor had lain in one of these beds, sick of heart and broken in soul, and Glorfindel had turned his back on him.

But that was before. Before the revelation of Elrond’s short, simple words.

They would heal together.

The warrior softly rested his burden down on the crisp, white sheets and quickly stripped the remainder of the soiled, tattered travel-clothing from Corchvorn’s lithely muscled frame. Tomorrow he would help the boy bathe, but for now he just wanted the lad to be comfortable. Erestor stood uncertainly by the door as Glorfindel removed his own boots and belts and layers until he was clad in just his leggings.

“Close the door, sweet one,” Glorfindel coaxed.

Erestor did so and slowly approached the bed. His steps were hesitant and stilted.

Glorfindel sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned the darkling closer until he could guide and maneuver the tiny body. With a few whispered commands and delicate movement, Glorfindel soon had one young elf snuggled on either side as he lay in the middle of the small bed. It was quite the squeeze to fit all three of them on the narrow mattress, but it was worth it. Corchvorn and Erestor clung to him as if he were they were drowning, and he was the only thing keeping them afloat. Two hands, both young yet very different, tangled together in the middle of Glorfindel’s chest in a needy, grasping hold. Erestor’s tiny body slid perfectly into the bigger warrior’s side, although Corchvorn’s much larger frame felt no less perfect were it huddled against him. Both youths were shaking, one from sickness and drugs, one from soul-deep anguish, and both from fear that this moment was just that. A moment. A moment that would pass and be forgotten, and when the sun rose all the terror of the unknown would once again hound their very steps.

“It’s alright, little ones,” Glorfindel soothed. His arms pulled the smaller bodies closer. Two heads burrowed deeper the respective shoulders they were perched upon. “I’m here. I will be here past the dawn and into tomorrow and the time beyond. I will not leave you.”

With those words ringing their eager ears, the tired, weary-souled young elves let themselves drift into sleep. It was a mostly fitful sleep, but Glorfindel stayed awake and watchful through the remainder of the night to sooth both back to rest when they stirred. Only when both slept quietly and deeply did he let himself fall into reverie, to dream of a future that, while certainly complicated, may actually bring joy back to the lives of the forsaken.

TBC…