Awakenings

Part 14.

He raged, he thrashed and hollered. None other could approach him, not even the one he counted as his closest friend, Ecthelion. He caused the other souls pain he knew, but so be it. They could not tolerate his anguish and defiance in a place where they needed to be at peace and heal. He was the one constant ripple in the mist of dead and silence. He would not rest.

All souls were but images of their previous beings, none were to know touch or feel. But Glorfindel, Glorfindel defied this rule. He could reach out and touch objects that were not previously there. He could throw them at walls that had no substance where they would shatter into pieces.

All souls fled from his fury, seeking the quiet of the halls away from this errant one who polluted the air that they could not breath with his cries. Only one, the one who had been known as Ecthelion in life could or would bare witness, only he would be willing to watch and silently mourn for his friend who refused to heal.

“Release me!” Was all he would cry, all he would scream. “Release me!”

He did not know how much time had passed, only one thought occupied his mind, one person. Erestor, he had to return to his Erestor. All his memories of his life were beginning to fade, as was the ways of the dead. To temporarily forget their memories until such a time as when they are ready for them to be returned, after they had healed and accepted, that they had in fact died. Then they could travel to Valinor. But he refused to let go, he would not forget, and he would fight for his memories, he would fight and cling to his prolonged pain. He would do it all for Erestor, and anything else he must, he had to find a way back to the world of the living. He would not break his promise.

If it was possible Ecthelion shivered, not from the wails of his friend, that he was used to, that was the only sound he had grown accustomed to. Though his memories also had temporarily begun to fade his friends cries kept him to from finding peace, for he could not let him suffer alone, though he knew there was nothing he could do for him . Nay, he shivered from a great presence that had made itself known upon entering what had now become Glorfindel’s domain of misery.

“Child, why do you cry so?”
“My lord, I beg thee release me.”
“But you have yet to heal.”
“And I never will, less you release me.”
“I can not release you for you are not yet healed, ‘tis the way of things. If you wish for the shores of Valinor then allow the fog to envelope you, and forget.”
“I will never forget!” Even as he cried out defiantly the fogs quickly disbursed from where they had been gathering around his feet, as if his very cry had blown them away in a gust of loathing.

“Then you will never heal.”
“You must release me!”
“Why do you do this? If you allow us to heal you, if you allow for your memories to fade then you will be as you once were, and eventually return to your true home, the home of all our children the first born, in Valinor.”
“I will not forget him, I cannot!”
“Do you not understand that you will see him again eventually, when you will be again whole and new?”
“I do not wish to be new, and I do not wish to travel to Valinor.”

Even Glorfindel who had so far not conceded to any rule of old, could not help but cower slightly as the great being seemed to grow and the great deep voice hardened.

“Valinor is a gift, our final gift to the first born, the ones we love above any other. Our most beautiful of creations, our own children. You turn away our gift child? You dare show such hate and ungratefulness to your true mothers and fathers?”

“Nay my lord.” Glorfindel whispered, head bowed.

At seeing such a proud being such as Glorfindel brought so low the great lord adopted a more gentle tone, he had no desire to see one of the first born in which he and all Valar loved dearly in any pain.

“Then you understand?”
“I have always understood my lord, but I will never accept it.” He raised his head and looked head on to the most fearsome yet loving being he had ever encountered. “My lord, a great gift it is, but it will never be home for me without him. I made a promise, a promise that I would find a way back, to Arda.”
“You will meet in Valinor.” He replied, again with a more authority in his voice.
“Nay, we will not. For I will not let my memories of him fade, and therefore I will never heal. And I will never make the great and final journey to Valinor. For I can not, will not forget. I will continue my cries of anguish and pain for all eternity if I must. I will not forget. I beg thee, release me.”
“It is not our way.”
“Then make it your way!”
“Do not forget to whom you speak child!”

Glorfindel again bowed his head in respect. “Forgive me my lord, but I fight for love, and I fight for my own peace. Surely the fact that I am willing to defy you and give up peace and healing shows how fruitless this endeavour is? You labour under a misapprehension. I simply, will. Not. Heal.”

There was a long pause before either spoke. Neither looked away, but even as Glorfindel stood his ground, (figuratively speaking) he quaked in the presence of the lord of death.

“Do you not see what you do to the other souls?”
“I will not heal.”
“They can not find peace with your cries, have you no thought for you (your) fallen brothers?”
“I will not heal.”
“And look upon the one who suffers most for you, the one known as Ecthelion.”

Glorfindel paused for a moment, looking upon his friend who was near transparent but lingered in an unbearable cross over of existence, all for him. Yet he replied the same.
“I will not heal.”

Again a heavy silence fell upon them, not the silence of peace, but of indecision, of battling wills. Eventually the great lord turned to the suffering soul known as Ecthelion.

“Ecthelion, why do you linger?”
“Release him.” His voice, which had not been used since before his death was as transparent as the image of his body. Barely heard, yet the meaning of his words was so deafening that the great lord let out a sigh and bowed his head.

“Child of ours, known as Ecthelion. Be at peace, let my fogs wash over you and take away your pain and memory. You will remember and see him again in Valinor, with his soul mate beside him. I will release him.”

Ecthelion turned to Glorfindel, gave one final smile and slowly, with a tear trailing his cheek he let his eyes roll back as he closed them. He let out a final sigh as the fogs rolled over his form and took him away. Ecthelion of the house of the Fountain, was at peace.

The mighty lord turned back to Glorfindel. The fallen warrior stood there now with tears in his eyes.

“I hope you will not regret your choice child. For there will be consequences to your choice.”
“I shall bare any my lord, my great lord.” His voice shook with pure elation and gratitude. The Valar smiled before him, but it was a sad smile.

“You would not let us heal you, therefore when we return you….you will still carry the burdens of your fall.”
“A burden I can bare for him.”
“there is one greater consequence, you will not remember your own reasons for returning. You will not recall him.”
“What…what doses that mean? How could I not remember him?”
“You will not let your memory fade here, so your memory of him will fade the moment you are returned.”
“But I…he is the reason I am returning!”
“If this is truly what you want then you will be willing to accept this.”
“I know I have asked and have been granted much, but I beg, do not take my memories of him, do not take away my love.” He had not the strength to yell, so he merely sank to his knees holding out his hands pleadingly.

The great lord stepped forwards. And bid Glorfindel to rise, once he had he shuddered as the back of the beings hand barely touched his cheek. He knew then that it had been years, nay millennia since he had died, that single icy touch reminded him of what a real touch felt like. Erestor had been waiting for so long.

“Child, your love is something the two of you created, not us. We have not the power to change that, just as we do not have the power to extinguish it. As in death your memories will fade…” As Glorfindel lowered his head with a shuddering sigh he gently tipped it back up. “And as in what would of occurred in Valinor, they will eventually return to you.”
“I will remember him and our love? Eventually?!”
“Indeed, but because you refuse to heal and forget now, when the memories of your death return also, they will cause you great pain and anguish. Where as if you were to heal and go to Valinor, when you next see him there will be no pain. Choose wisely.”
“I can not break a promise, return me.”
“Your love would be wholly pure and unburdened if you would but choose Valinor.”
“Nay it would not, aye I would not feel pain. But he would, I would have failed him and left him to his suffering, eternal mourning and false hope. He will make me remember my lord, and he will heal me.”

“There is one more condition.”
“Anything.”
“You must protect those whom I will return you to. The descendant of those you protected in your previous life. His name is Lord Elrond and he resides in the last homely house known as Imladris. Protect him and his kin.”
“Is that where I will find Erestor?”
“Aye, he is the high councillor there, chief advisor to the one known as Elrond. And second in command of the entire valley. You will be the protector of the valley, seneschal.” The great lord could not help the small smile that touched his deathly pale lips as the former warrior beamed with pride.

“I always knew he would do it.” He whispered to himself.
“You must know that he has suffered greatly without you, ‘twas only the promise you made him that kept him from fading himself. He is a strong one, I do not think he will fail you.”
“Nay he will not.” Glorfindel stated with such confidence and pride. Little did he know that his appearance was becoming less transparent by the moment, just as his voice began to loose its hollow tone and again adopted a deeper tone he had had in life. His surrounding also were changing, the fog was clearing, it was not so dark and the shadows were disappearing.

“It will be strange though, I died only years after my majority, he is so much older now, so much older than I.” He mused aloud with a slight frown.

“Nay Glorfindel, because of your stubbornness and unwieldiness to heal your heart has to grown old, along with his. Though none of the first born will know what it is to age. Neither of you are any longer young. Save perhaps in spirit, for your last breath was taken as a youngling, and the last time he truly allowed himself to live was as you gave him that one last kiss. A small part of died also Glorfindel.”
“I will do everything in my power to change that.” He stated with a defiance he was becoming well known for.
“I think Glorfindel, that your mere presence will accomplish much of that.”

He again was not aware as his surroundings fell away to change completely, there was now grass beneath his feet, not cold stone, there was sunshine streaming through the branches of trees where mere shadow had once been. There was a breeze brushing golden locks about his shoulders, where before his blond tresses had been nothing but an imitation of what once was.

“I release you Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, of Gondolin, and now of Imladris. I bid you not to come to my halls again, for I will not release you a second time. Live, find him, and try to remember. Our blessings are with you child.”

And he was gone, Glorfindel now stood on a grassy knoll, overlooking a great valley. He knew who he was…

“I am Glorfindel, of….of the Golden flower, of Gondolin…” He said to himself with a frown, straining to remember. “I have come here to Imladris, to….protect and serve the lord and his kin of this valley…” He closed his eyes tightly as he wracked his mind for answers, “there is something else…I know there is…” He huffed in frustration and tried again, “I am Glorfindel of the Golden flower of Gondolin. I have been returned by the Valar to protect and serve the lord of this valley and his kin and….and…”

With a sigh he slumped his shoulders, perhaps he would remember in time? Right now he needed to introduce himself to his new lord. Looking down at himself he smiled, he was wearing the armour he wore in Gondolin…he was wearing the armour he wore when…his smile faded. He was wearing the armour he had worn when….when he died. Suddenly it felt as if he could not breath, he fell to his knees and gasped as images of flames and smoke, sounds of screams and cries invaded his mind and waking eye. But something brought him back, something distracted him from his memories. After a few deep breathes he realised what it was, the grass beneath his fingers, he could actually feel it.

He knelt down on his hands and knees as he gently ran his hands over the grass, letting the blades tickle the underside of his hand. It was fresh springy, and its smell, it was divine. He knew at once that it must have been raining there the night before for the smell was too fresh, too stimulating. At once his head shot up, he stood and spun dizzily around on the spot. He was alive! He took a deep breath and mentally followed it through his body, he listened and felt his own heart beat. He felt the sun upon his face and he heard the sound of his own laughter. He was alive.

~*~*~*~*~*~


“Is…is it…”
“Aye my friend, after all these years he has returned.”

Shakily Erestor raised a hand to cover his mouth, he was here, finally Glorfindel had returned to him. His legs were suddenly unwilling to support him, he leaned against the wall of the empty corridor for support. His eyes filling with unbidden tears.

“I, I can’t believe it, he’s finally come back to me.”
“I must admit…” Elrond lowered his head with an apologetic grin, “I had always thought your insistent claims of a lover who would be returning to you from the dead a tad worrying.”
“Why do you think you are the only one to know of this? I know how mad it sounds.”
“Nay, not mad Erestor, not anymore. For he sits in my office as we speak, only I have properly spoke to him and he is indeed, Glorfindel of Gondolin. Glorfindel, lord of the Golden flower. I even recognise him from the illustrations of old Erestor, it is him.”
“I…I’m afraid Elrond.”
“Why?” The lord of the valley whispered. “He has returned to you as he promised.”
“I know I…I do not know,” the advisor lowered his head and straightened his robe. When he looked back up his eyes were still filled with tears, but with immense fear and hope also. “How do I look?” He asked shakily.

“Beautiful, now go see your lover.” Elrond smiled adoringly at his friend. Ai he cared so much for Erestor! He had known Erestor his entire life, and trusted and knew the advisor as no other. Well, perhaps as no other save Glorfindel of Gondolin.

Erestor nodded and shakily moved to stand before the doors to Elrond’s office. Giving one more quick glance to Elrond who nodded encouragingly he slowly and quietly opened the door, and disappeared inside.

He couldn’t breath nor could he move. It was him. Glorfindel was not sitting but now stood looking out over the valley upon Elrond’s balcony. He could only see the back of him, but knew instinctively that it was him. Even if it was not for the uniform and the golden locks spilling over broad shoulders that he recognised and knew so well, he knew that it was him. Every fibre in his body recognised his lost lover. His hands shook violently yet he could not move, his legs had again betrayed him, as had his voice. And then he turned.

Glorfindel had been looking out over the valley, he was awe struck by its beauty. There was a great waterfall and a stone bridge leading over it. The buildings themselves were stunning. But what was most lovely to look upon was how the natural beauty of the valley was masterfully and gracefully blended with the stone work of the elves. Leaves, flower and stone, entwined in one flow of elven beauty.

Hearing a noise behind him he turned around, thinking that Elrond, the lord of this valley had returned to his office. But what he saw stopped his heart and stole his breath. The beauty of which he had just been musing upon became meaningless, a blur in the background and even sour and ugly in comparison as to what blinded him at that moment. If he had thought he had seen great elven beauty but a minute ago he had been greatly mistaken. An elf stood before him, and it was not lord Elrond.

Long black hair that shone in the light of the room cascaded down slim shoulders, putting the great waterfall to shame. Dark beautiful eyes that seemed all the bigger from unshed tears shadowed any flower or astounding bloom in darkness. Small pouting red lips, high cheek bones, a dainty chin, a lean slender figure and small waist put any elven carving or masterpiece in a dim light in comparison to the blinding beauty that stood before him. He all of a sudden could no longer remember his name or where he came from, so dumb struck was he.

“Glorfindel?”

Oh that smooth velvety voice! He could only nod in reply, his mouth opened and closed but his voice had been silenced by smaller figure before him.

“Glorfindel..” He repeated, this time not as a question but as a shaky confirmation.

Glorfindel simply watched as the vision slowly moved towards him. The beauty paused before him and gently brought a small and pale hand up to touch his face. He watched as slender fingers brushed his cheeks and lips in the lightest of touches. He watched as those dark eyes followed that trail, over a slender brow, across a cheek, along his bottom lip, and still he could not speak.

“It is you.” He whispered.

Glorfindel’s eyes went wide as the unknown enigma of an elf suddenly flung himself at the astounded reborn warrior, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. Glorfindel wrapped his arms around the more petite elf in reflex, and he wondered at how the anonymous dark one felt and fit perfectly into his arms.

“I have missed you so much!” Was cried emotionally into his neck.

Finally Erestor pulled back to look into the warm blue eyes of his lover. His brilliant smile slowly slid from his face though when looking into those eyes. They still looked as summer skies, and they still held their warm and friendly quality. But there was no recognition, surprise yes, confusion yes, but no recognition.

“I take it…we knew each other?”

Erestor pulled back slowly with dawning horror. His arms slowly slid from the warriors shoulders and he took a single step beck. Reluctantly Glorfindel released his hold around the other elf‘s waist and small back, he almost felt guilty at the undeniably hurt expression on the others face.

“You…you don’t remember me.”
“I am afraid not but…” he licked his lips and took a step forwards, erasing the distance the advisor had put between them “…but if we knew each other back then, then…I, uh…”
“How, how can you not remember me? It is I!” When Glorfindel simply stared at him apologetically he couldn’t stop the crack in his voice, nor the trembling of his chin as he tried to jolt his lovers memory. “It is I Erestor! Your Erestor!”

“My Erestor?” He whispered.
“Yes!” Though his emotions finally won out, tears fell down his cheeks as he stammered in disbelief.

Glorfindel could feel a lump of emotion gather in his throat and his own eyes sting at the distress he was obviously causing this elf. This…Erestor, his Erestor, apparently.

For some unknown reason, as he mindlessly tried to think of anything to undo the hurt he had unwittingly caused he could not help but stare at the advisors hands. The sleeves of the very ceremonial looking robe reached to nearly the tips of his fingers. And if he had not known that it would of simply upset Erestor more he would of smiled at how the advisor sweetly fiddled with the edge of his sleeves, as if he were nervous.

“I…I do not know what to tell you. I am sorry…” The heartbroken expression on Erestor’s face was to much for him to bare, he stepped forwards and spoke softly once more. “I have been living but less than an hour..” he began with an empty laugh, trying to lighten the situation, and attempting to stop the flow of tears from those beautiful eyes. “…I remember little, but I…I would be grateful if you would, would help me or… you must know that all this is a lot to take in I…I am sorry I do not recall you but…please do not weep.” He finished in a whisper, daring to lift his hand to wipe away tears. “I may not remember you but I know I can not bare to see you weep.”

Erestor closed his eyes tightly and leaned into the touch.
“Perhaps you will…since we knew each other, perhaps you would,” he shrugged “be my guide? Help me remember?”

“I will have to.”


TBC...