My Heart's Desire - Part 1. To Wait for you.

Chapter 14. My Fault, My Blame.


Gildor bit hard on his lip, desperately searching for a way out. Then, as he seemed to have come to some decision, he looked up at Glorfindel. “No one will die because of main,ain,” he said resolutely.

Something in his tone put Glorfindel on his guard. “What are you going to do?”

“Make use of my royal Vanyarin heritage. I hope it will prove helpful, for once. Tend to his wound, please.”

“What do you mean – make u… ” Glorfindel began but then understanding dawned on him. “No! You haven’t trained for it!”

“Tend to his wound, Mallos! He’s bleeding,” Gildor cut him short. “I must try. I… I do not know what else I can do… ”

He took a deep breath, put one hand over Haldir’s heart and the other on his forehead, closed his eyes, concentrated and… felt nothing. He tried again and once more failed. He crushed down his rising panic and made another effort.

‘Come on, Haldir, answer me! You cannot have gone too far yet… Where are you?’

He reached out searching for a response desperately. After some agonizingly long time he heard it finally, distant and faint, but it was all he needed. Gildor could feel him now. He grabbed hold of him and pulled as hard as he could. The resistance he met was shockingly strong. He was almost dragged forward with the force of it. However, Gildor refused to let go. He tugged with all his might again and again, feeling with dismay that his own strength was seeping out of him rapidly. Once more, he was close to panicking.

‘No! You cannot fail me now! Hear my call, Haldir! Come back. Come back to light. Come back to me… ’

He did not know how much time had passed: several minutes, hours or maybe days; he lost all sense of time. He was fully concentrated on the one and only thing – clinging to the faint feel of Haldir with the remnants of his waning strength.

And then he felt it: the counteraction was lessening. Gildor was still clutching to Haldir’s presence, as it grew stronger, closer and warmer gradually. Only when he felt it touch him and then sweep past him, did he let himself relax. He found suddenly that he was dead-tired and incredibly weak.

‘I must rest,’ he thought. ‘I should have some sleep, then I’ll be all right again.’

The prospect of getting some sleep looked irresistibly attractive and he started sliding into blissful oblivion.

‘Gildor, answer me!’ The sudden demand startled him out of his blessed slumber.

‘Not now, Elrond, please,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ll talk to you later. I’m too tired now.’

‘You must not sleep now! Stay awake! Speak to me!’

But he was too exhausted to keep the link for long and in several moments Elrond’s voice became a distant humming. He felt too numb to care, too drained, too sleepy…

‘Gildor, do as Ada tells you!’

Surprise jerked him to awareness once again. ‘Elrohir? Can you farspeak now?’

‘You cannot even imagine *what* we can do for your sake, dagnir-e-guilen.’ [bane of my life]

‘Elladan? You too?’

‘Please, Gildor, do not fall asleep.’ Elrohir.

‘There’s no fun in sleeping alone, anyway.’ Elladan.

‘Come back.’

‘To us.’

‘We love you.’

‘More than you know.’

‘We want you back.’

‘We want you.’

‘Elladan, can your father hear you?’ In spite of himself, Gildor was amused. He felt the twins tugging on him as they used to do, when they were small and wanted immediate answers to their questions. But his weariness gained the upper hand over him once more and he felt being sucked into the swamp of somnolence again.

‘Stop shamming an invalid and start moving already.’

Now he *was* fully awake. ‘Altáriel! I told you… ’

‘Yes, you did. But if you want to get me out of your head you’ll have to come to your senses.’ Galadriel’s hold on him was strong and not too gentle. ‘Stop behaving like a selfish egoist and do think of someone else, for a change. A group of our guardians is on their way to you. There is a healer among them. You must get Haldir out of that place. The sooner you meet them, the better for him. So if you deem it a good enough reason to interrupt your loafing, do it now!’

Gildor moaned, made an effort and opened his eyes.

Glorfindel bandaged Haldir’s wound casting continual glances at Gildor. The Vanya was absolutely still, his features set in concentration. When he was through with his task, Glorfindel sat back on his heels and watched the two motionless elves in front of him with trepidation. Now and again he would look around and listen carefully for any suspicious noise but all was quiet. As time dragged on, Glorfindel’s worry increased. Haldir was hardly breathing and Gildor was too still for Glorfindel’s liking. Suddenly something changed. He saw Gildor tense; the Vanya’s hands began shaking slightly. Then Glorfindel gasped: pale vibrating light started pouring from Gildor’s hands into Haldir’s body. The light grew brighter gradually and Glorfindel could swear he heard some melodious humming. Haldir moaned softly. The Elda looked at him and heaved a sigh of relief. Haldir’s breathing was becoming calmer and some colour was slowly returning to his face.

But when Glorfindel turned his attention back to Gildor, he gasped again and cursed. The Vanya looked pallid and was shaking all over now, as if his very life were seeping out of him through his fingertips.

“No! Gildor, stop it! You are killing yourself!” Glorfindel tried to tear Gildor’s hands off of Haldir’s body but failed. The Vanya’s palms seemed to be sealed to the Galadhel’s skin. Glorfindel watched in helpless desperation as his friend poured his life-energy unstintingly into the still form of the younger elf. Then, like a candle blown out by wind, Gildor’s light was suddenly extinguished and he collapsed next to Haldir. Glorfindel moved swiftly to his side.

“Gildor!” Glorfindel shook his friend by the shoulders. There was no reaction and the Elda slapped him slightly on his cheeks. “Come on, open your eyes!”

But Gildor remained unresponsive and gave no sign of life.

“Oh, darn! What am I to do now with the two of you?”

Glorfindel shot a glance at the Galadhel. The young elf was still unconscious but he no longer looked like he was dying. Gildor, however, was hardly breathing and felt very cold to the touch. Glorfindel could not remember the last time he had been so frightened.

“Gildor, please, wake up!”slapslapped his cheeks again; this time it came about harder than intended because os des despair.

Gildor moaned faintly, his lashes fluttered and rose reluctantly. “Is… is this… your ‘welcome back’?” he whispered, his voice raspy like dry parchment.

“You idiot! You’ve scared the life out of me!” Glorfindel felt almost giddy with relief. He took Gildor’s hand gingerly and pressed his lips to the palm.

“He is...?” There was worry in Gildor’s eyes.

“He’s alive and looks much better than you at the moment. What were you trying to do – feed all your life-energy to him?”

Gildor sighed and closed his eyes. Glorfindel panicked at once. “Don’t you dare falleep eep on me again!”

Gildor looked up at him with a faint smile. “Won’t… ” Then he tried to lick his lips. “Water?”

“Wait a moment.” Glorfindel rushed to his horse.

Gildor made an effort, raised himself on one elbow and looked down at Haldir. The Galadhel’s thick, long lashes were resting on his ivory pale skin, black against white, making a startling contrast. His lips were still slightly gray but his breathing was even and unlaboured. He looked incredibly young and unnervingly vulnerable.

“You fool,” Gildor breathed. “Why did you do it?”

He pushed himself into a sitting position and regretted it instantly as the world spun around him frantically. He bit back a moan and clutched at the grass for support, while sparkling motes danced in front of his eyes. He felt himself being pulled back against Glorfindel’s solid chest and a cool flask was thrust into his hand. “Drink this.”

Gildor obeyed and almost moaned again, this time in pleasure at the blissful feel of the liquid fir mir miruvor running down his throat and instantly driving the chill away from his body. He took another swallow and, at last, could see clearly again.

“How do you feel?” Glorfindel asked him.

“How do you think I feel?” Gildor did not dare turn his head yet. “My throat is parched, my head is reeling and my stomach is prancing– that is how.”

In spite of his worry, Glorfindel was amused. “Well, now you know what a hangover is like.” Then he pressed his cheek to Gildor’s temple and squeezed his shoulders gently. “You gave me a real fright. I thought you would never wake up.”

Gildor sighed slightly but when he spoke, Glorfindel could feel a smile in his voice. “I would look at you trying to sleep with the whole White Council in your head.”

“What do you mean?”

“First, Elrond talked to me. He would know, of course, that something was wrong. Then the twins joined in.”

“The twins? Did they farspeak with you?”

“Yes.”

“But how did they do it?”

“Fluently. And annoyingly. At least, Elladan.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “He called you ‘dagnir-e-guilen’ again?”

Gildor scowled weakly. Even though Elladan had since long outgrown his childish crush on Gildor, he went on using the endearment, only because – Gildor was sure – he very well knew that it irritated Gildor to no end.

“Aye, he did. And then, on top of it all, there was Galadriel. So I had no other escape but back to consciousness.” Gildor took another sip of miruvor and returned the flask to Glorfindel. “We must move now. Galadriel sent some of her guardians to meet us. There’s a healer among them. He’ll take care of… ” Gildor cast a glance at Haldir. “…of him.”

Gildor pushed himself away from the support of Glorfindel’s chest and turned slowly to face him. “Take my saddlebags off Silivren, please, and strap them onto the Marchwarden’s horse.”

“What for?”

“I do not want to burden Silivren with extra weight. He’ll have to carry the two of us as it is.”

“The two of you. Of course.” Glorfindel gave a dry chuckle. “Are you sure you’ll be able even to sit on your horse without swaying in your saddle, not to mention supporting an unconscious elf, who’s of stronger build than you?”

Gildor sighed. “Glorfindel, I have no strength for arguing with you right now. So, please, just do as I ask you. You can always tell me later that you warned me.”

Any further attempts at reasoning with him were pointless. Glorfindel could see it clearly. He took Gildor’s packs off his horse’s back and grunted at the weight of them. “What do you have in there – mithril bullions?”

Gildor smiled. “Be careful not to drop them. You’ll be the first to regret it if you do.” Then he called his horse, “Come here, Silivren.” The animal trotted to him briskly. “Good boy. Now, get down, kneel.”

The stallion obeyed. Gildor managed to mount it on his own. Glorfindel knew better than to try to assist him, but he kept close to his friend, ready to come to his aid should Gildor’s scant strength fail him. Gildor looked up at him. “Give the guardian to me, Mallos. Please.”

“You are sure to topple down,” Glorfindel grumbled as he gathered the unconscious Galadhel in his arms carefully and put him in the saddle in front of Gildor. Gildor wrapped his arms around Haldir’s waist and let Haldir’s head rest on his shoulder.

“Up, Silivren.”

The stallion rose to his feet. Gildor managed to preserve the upright position without swaying. Glorfindel sighed, bound Haldir’s horse to the saddle of his own stallion, mounted it and they moved out of the gully. As they rode along the road to Lórien, Gildor secretly wondered how long he would be able to keep up his casual appearance. He felt terrible. His head was still spinning; he had to fight nausea constantly. And he was cold. Valar! He was so cold! He had to make an earnest effort to keep himself from shivering. Gildor pressed Haldir’s body closer to himself. The young elf felt so warm and soothing in his arms. Gildor found the pulse point on Haldir’s neck with his lips. The Galadhel’s heartbeat was even and sure. Good. Gildor tightened his embrace. At the moment, the guardian was like a solid and solacing anchor that kept Gildor bound to the real world. The Vanya was not sure whether he was supporting Haldir or, on the contrary, was clinging to him for support. He felt ill and weak and he hated it.

There was another stinging feeling that added to his misery. Guilt. He had failed. He had failed in something he believed he had excelled in – war craft. He committed the most stupid blunder: he turned his back to an enemy that was still alive. And he almost paid for it with his life. He was saved by the quick reaction and the sacrificial valour of an elf who was even younger than the twins. It was mortifying. The thought that he saved Haldir’s life in return was of little consolation to him. True, he managed to bring the young Galadhel back, but only barely; for everything he did, he did by intuition. That was another mistake of his. He should have paid more heed to Elrond’s lessons and should have learned everything the renowned healer could teach him. But he was so set on perfecting his skills in taking away lives that he did not even briefly consider the idea of mastering the art of giving them back. He failed again. He felt bitterly ashamed, and the sensation was more painful than his throbbing headache. He wished he could allow himself to black out and to forget about his disgrace at least for a while.

Gildor was balancing on the thin line between consciousness and unconsciousness, when he was suddenly jerked to awareness by voices around them. He blinked and found with dull surprise that they were surrounded by elves in gray and black uniforms. He had neither felt nor heard them coming. Pathetic. Gildor took a careful breath and prayed to the Valar he would not make a bigger fool of himself by fainting in front of the Lórien guardians. Then he saw Haldir’s brothers by his side and it took him a moment to realize that they wanted to get Haldir down from the horse. He willed his numb fingers to unclench and let go of the Galadhel’s form. Haldir was carried away to where bedrolls were spread and where a healer was waiting to take care of him.

Glorfindel walked up to Gildor who was still sitting on horseback. “Can you get down yourself?” he asked.

“Yes. I think so…”

“Try. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

With a painful effort, Gildor swung his leg over his stallion’s neck and slid down into Glorfindel’s arms. The Elda walked him to a tree and helped him sit down on the grass with his back against the trunk.

“Wait here.”

Gildor closed his eyes and stopped fighting his shivers. In a moment he felt the neck of a flask being pressed to his lips and made a swallow compliantly.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Hold it.”

Gildor opened his eyes and took the flask. Glorfindel spread a bedroll on the ground and made Gildor move onto it.

“Finish the miruvor,” he ordered then. When Gildor obeyed, he took the empty flask away from him, wrapped him in a blanket and laid him on the bedroll, kng hng his head on his lap.

“Are you still feeling sick?”

“Yes,” Gildor mumbled.

“Serves you right, you stubborn idiot. Next time you’ll know better than to exhaust yourself to death.”

“Next time, if I may, I prefer to die from a bolt in my chest than from a prolonged bout of hang-over. It’s quicker and less humiliating,” Gildor complained drowsily.

Even if he was to wake up in Mandos’s Halls, he had to get some sleep right now. And he allowed himself to slide into blissful, dark nothingness.


Rúmil fumed as he carried Haldir to the healer’s makeshift ward. Here was his younger brother, covered in blood, unconscious and hardly breathing, and that damned supercilious Vanya had just handed him down without batting an eyelid, like Haldir was some pack of rubbish. Cold-blooded bastard! Statues in Lady Galadriel’s garden showed more feeling than he did.

Thrandvell, the healer, had to move Rúmil aside forcibly to be able to examine Haldir’s wound without interference.

Though Orophin was no less concerned about Haldir than his sibling, he had to pay attention to the world around him, as he was the one in command of their squad. Thus, he noticed Gildor’s state and made a mental note of it.

After the thorough inspection of Haldir’s injury Thrandvell rebandaged it and rose to his feet to face the worried brothers of his young captain.

“His wound is clean and healing surprisingly quickly. He is in healing sleep at the moment and has been in it for some time now. He’ll be well soon.”

Both Rúmil and Orophin sighed with relief. “Thank you, Thrandvell,” Orophin said. “Could you come with me now and have a look at Lord Gildor? I’m afraid he, too, could have taken a wound.”

Rúmil darted a glance around the glade searching for the Vanya. Could Orophin be right?

When two Galadhel came up to him, Glorfindel nodded in greeting but did not rise, unwilling to disturb his sleeping friend. Orophin and Thrandvell sat down on the grass in front of him.

“How much of the blood I saw on him is his own?” Orophin asked quietly.

“None.”

Thrandvell was studying Gildor’s face attentively. “Be loe looks like he’s been bleeding to death.”

Glorfindel shook his head.

“What happened?” Orophin inquired.

The Elda sighed. “We had a skirmish with orcs. One of the beasts shot a bolt at Gildor. Your brother shielded Gildor with his body and took the bolt instead of him.”

Orophin’s eyes widened.

“The bolt was poisoned with some new and swift venom. Your brother was dying.”

Thrandvell shook his head in disbelief. “How is it possible? The wound is absolutely clean. And Haldir is in a fairly good condition right now.”

Glorfindel nodded and stroked Gildor’s hair tenderly. “Gildor pulled him back. But he had never trained for it so he could not control it properly. He virtually bled himself dry of his life-energy. That’s why he is in such a poor state now.”

Thrandvell looked at the sleeping Vanya in reverence. “I’ve heard of such things but I’ve never seen it done.”

“I must speak with him, when he awakes, and thank him,” Orophin said.

"Do not.” Glorfindel sighed. “I have a feeling that he won’t take it well.”

“Why? He saved my brother’s life. I owe him gratitude at the least.”

“He saved your brother’s life after your brother had saved his.” Glorfindel looked at Orophin with wise, serious eyes. “Let them sort it out between the two of them, and decide who owes whom and what. Theirs is a complicated relationship.”

Neither Gildor nor Haldir remembered their returning to Caras Galadhon: bof thf them entered it, being deep in healing sleep in the arms of their kin.


Dagnir-e-guilen – Bane of my life