Something Special, Something Sacred

Imladris, Third Age 2033

Glorfindel walked into the rooms he shared with Erestor and glanced around. The bedchamber had been cleaned, the toys returned to the playroom, and the sheets had been changed. But, he saw no sign of his lover, and his chest became tight. He had to find Erestor. A week had passed since Elrond had brought him to the healing wing, and Erestor still refused to see him.

"He is not in here."

The Elda turned and faced Elrond. "I can see that."

Elrond shook his head. "He will not be back for some time."

"Why?" Glorfindel crossed his arms, looking intently at his Lord.

"Because you are here," Elrond said simply.

Glorfindel felt as if he had been struck in the gut. "He does not want to see me?"

The Peredhel smiled sadly at Glorfindel. "It is not that he no longer wants to see you. It is that he cannot *trust* himself around you. You are a danger to him, and thus, make him a danger to you."

"I cannot fathom what you are talking about, Elrond," the blond snapped, his eyes growing dark with his annoyance. How dare Elrond say such things about Erestor? About him!

Elrond's eyes narrowed. "Glorfindel. He almost killed you."

Glorfindel laughed. "Erestor would never do such a thing."

"Oh? Then why did he come to my rooms well after midnight near tears, asking me to come here because he thought you were dead? Why were you unconscious for almost two days, healing from the damage your body had suffered over the preceding months? Why have you pushed Erestor and yourself as you have? I would like answers, Glorfindel." Elrond had slowly walked toward the tall Elda, and with every word, Glorfindel felt himself backed further into a corner.

They stood almost nose-to-nose; Elrond's wise pewter gaze boring into Glorfindel's frightened sapphire one. "I have no answers to give you," Glorfindel said through clenched teeth.

"Liar." Elrond turned away from his Seneschal. "The bedsheets had blood on them. Your throat was almost crushed. You have answers and I want them." That piercing gaze was directed at him again. "Now, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel debated for a moment, trying to decide if it was wise to continue the charade. "I owe no answers to you."

"Yes, you do!" Elrond yelled, his usually calm countenance gone, replaced by anger. "You have driven Erestor inside himself, Glorfindel! I may have a wife, whom I love with all I am, but I still love him! And because of that love, because of who he is to me -- which is obviously more than he ever was to you -- *I* deserve answers! Now, tell me, why did you push him?"

"Because I wanted it! The pain, the shame, the humiliation, all of it! I wanted it! I needed it! I begged him for it!" Glorfindel shouted back, panting as he faced a part of himself he had tried to avoid since the shift in their relationship. "It was my due, after all. My punishment, my reward. It was what I deserved!"

Elrond nodded once. "Why? What could you have done that you think you deserve such treatment?"

They stared at one another from across the room. Elrond's face was again placid, his eyes revealing nothing of his mind. But, Glorfindel's... he knew his face told everything. His pain, his guilt, his sorrow and his betrayal.

He looked away from Elrond and choked out, "I killed them."

" Who?"

"The Teleri at Alqualondë, Elrond!" he barked, his brow creasing in self-loathing. The memories spun through his mind: the dead, the dying, and those left in the wake of the slaughter. "And then... at the Nirnaeth... I could not save them. Elves felled all around me, and Turgon calling for us to retreat. To run! And we did. We hewed through the Orcs, but the High King still fell."

Elrond's shock was apparent. "But, Glorfindel -- you saved all those warriors you and Ecthelion protected as you retreated."

Glorfindel laughed bitterly. "What good did that do? Only to watch them fall later -- the city in flames, my dearest friend and love dead at the bottom of a fountain and my King taken from his people. I was barely able to save that small host left after the city was sacked! And then what did I do? I died! Left them *again*!"

"You can hardly be blamed for dying," Elrond said, confusion clear in his voice.

"Oh, but I can." Glorfindel lowered his voice, leaning forward just a bit as he continued. "I turned my back to it. A Balrog, Elrond. I was so sure that I had sent it to its death that I turned my back to it. It pulled me down with it. I died because I was so sure in my ability, and I paid for it." Glorfindel straightened back up, and his eyes became clouded. He was drawn back to that time, to his fall and what waited for him after. "Námo was not one to forgive. I had committed atrocious acts, killed heedlessly and unnecessarily. I was afraid.

"My punishment? Centuries of reliving those choices, of seeing the consequences of my rash decisions! I deserved so much more than the Valar gave me in punishment." Glorfindel threw his hands up in the air, his eyes shimmering. He hated himself further for showing such weakness, but the enormity of his deeds suffocated him, smothered him in shame and guilt. "I left the perfection of Aman to come back here. It was a small way of redeeming myself in the eyes of the Valar and my fellow Elves, but I boarded the boat just the same.

"Once again, I failed. I lost Elves in Eregion, while defending this valley, and on the field of battle before Barad-dûr. Gil-galad fell while we -- while *I* was supposed to be protecting him!" Glorfindel cried, his chin trembling with his effort to hold back his tears. "And so I came into your service. I left my home in Lindon and came here to serve as your protector. Then as your family's. But, always, Elrond," he said, his voice becoming low and harsh, "always this cloud, this fog of self-doubt and worry, of guilt and fear. I am flawed. I am a disappointment!

"And then I met Erestor." His voice and expression took on a sense of wistfulness as he spoke of the Noldo, and he was sure Elrond noticed it. "I thought my heart had died with Ecthelion, but no. Erestor was beautiful and sharp, cunning and caring. He treated all around him with respect, and he loved you and your family dearly. I worshipped him, Elrond, long before he took me into his bed." The Elda smiled at Elrond. "I loved him from the moment he first spoke to me. When he did finally come to me, asked me to be his, I thought that, perhaps I had finally been forgiven. To be given his love, his attention... it was more than I had ever dreamed of.

"Then I overheard Haldir and Lindir, and I knew the truth." Glorfindel spun away from Elrond and pulled open the playroom door. "This!" he said loudly, gesturing at the various implements of punishment. "He was my punisher embodied. And after every beating, every humiliation, I felt lighter -- I felt forgiven!" Glorfindel heard his own voice, could detect the shrill note of hysteria in his tone.

Elrond, who had stood in silence throughout his tirade, strode swiftly to Glorfindel's side, his eyes dark and his face flushed. "Yet for how long, Glorfindel?" he demanded, grabbing Glorfindel's arm tightly. "Your forgiveness came at the cost of Erestor's sanity!"

"He could have stopped!"

The Half-Elf sneered. "No, he could not! You are his life, his heart, and though it slowly killed him to torture you, he did it because he wanted to make you happy. How dare you brush it off in such a casual manner," Elrond hissed. "Erestor broke every rule he had to give you your punishment, and you drove him to the brink of madness!"

"No!" Glorfindel screamed, jerking his arm from Elrond's grasp. "No!"

"Yes!" Elrond pressed. "He wept, Glorfindel! Clung to me in the night, his mind wracked with guilt, with nightmares -- things *you* put there. You are not responsible for the Kinslaying at Alqualondë or the fall of Fingon, or the destruction of Gondolin and most certainly not to blame for Ereinion's death -- but you sure as Mordor are responsible for Erestor's misery, Glorfindel!"

Glorfindel stared at Elrond as the Peredhel's words slowly registered. Had he really hurt Erestor as much as Elrond claimed? Had he been so selfish in his intent that he had made Erestor suffer? Glorfindel shuffled through his memories of the past year, and to his horror, he realized that he had dragged Erestor into the mire of his own self-loathing. He blinked once, clearing the images of his dark lover from his vision. "What have I done?" he asked no one in particular.

Elrond bowed his head and made his way to the door to Glorfindel's chambers. "You have made Erestor pay for your own misguided guilt, and Eru only knows if he will ever recover."

The sound of the door closing rang in Glorfindel's ears. He gazed around the silent, lonely room.

What was he to do now?

*****

It was three days later before Elrond saw Glorfindel again. He was sitting in his private study, reading the latest dispatches from Lórien, when Glorfindel knocked lightly on the door. Elrond didn't have to answer the door to know it was Glorfindel; the pitiful resignation in the knock was a dead giveaway.

"Come in, meldir," Elrond called.

The door opened, and Glorfindel shuffled softly into the small room. He looked to Elrond like an Elfling who had just woken from a bad dream. "What do I do?" he asked in a small voice.

"You learn," the Peredhel replied. He motioned Glorfindel toward the other chair in the room. When the Elda sat, Elrond continued. "I will teach you how to be a master. Once you learn that, then you will know how to be mastered."

"Is that the normal way of things? Must all those in my position learn to master others?"

"For those who submit only occasionally, or show only casual interest, such training is unnecessary. However, these feelings are a part of who you are, Glorfindel, and you must be taught. Just as Erestor was taught to submit to make him a better master, so must you now learn to master so that you may submit more completely."

Glorfindel nodded his understanding. "Where do I begin?"

"You begin as Erestor began, and I as began, by learning the Thefn Eneg. These are the six most important traits that you must possess to be successful in these types of relationships." Elrond's voice took on the lecturing tone he had once used with his children in the classroom, teaching writing and history. "They apply equally to the master, or Ingor, and the mastered, or Tumbo. When I first learned these points from my master Gildor Inglorion, you see, I was taught the High-Elven names for these roles, and use them to this day." ("Six Pillars"; mountain-top; valley)

"Should Erestor have taught me this when we began?" Glorfindel asked, a note of confusion coloring the words.

Elrond gave a small shrug. "Perhaps he should have, once the two of you moved beyond casual play. I do not know that we would not still be sitting here like this if he had, so it is ultimately moot."

The Elda winced at the reminder of recent events, but conceded the point. "Please continue," he prompted.

"The first pillar is spirit," Elrond recited, recalling the tenets from memory. "Spirit is that zest for life, that individuality and strength of character that makes each person unique. To the Tumbo, spirit means not sacrificing the sense of self. To the Ingor, spirit means guiding your Tumbo on the path to their higher self without losing sight of your own."

Elrond broke off and looked directly at Glorfindel, his eyes dark. "You, meldir, gave yourself completely over to the act of submission out of your latent desire to be punished. Your spirit was lost in the process. Erestor, meanwhile, allowed himself to focus more on what he perceived was your goal and ignored his own. His spirit became subjugated to yours." He held the golden Elf's gaze until he was sure Glorfindel understood.

"The second pillar," he continued, "is honesty. Honesty is purity of the soul, the basis for trust and the source of truth, both to oneself and to others. To the Tumbo, honesty means frank discussion of limits and boundaries and the fortitude to stand by them. To the Ingor, honesty means being always aware of your Tumbo while being mindful of your own boundaries. Erestor moved well beyond his boundaries and was dishonest to himself about his comfort. You, on the other hand, never established any boundaries, doing yourself a disservice by believing you needed them not.

"The third pillar is affection. Affection is more than the feeling of love; it is the outward expression of that love. To the Tumbo, affection means being dutiful and attentive to your Ingor whenever you can, and honest when you cannot. To the Ingor, affection means a firm but controlled hand, disciplining only when necessary, always with an eye toward teaching, not punishing. Through your desire solely for punishment, you removed Erestor's ability to guide and teach through discipline, turning his affection into frustration and your own affection into self-loathing."

Glorfindel swallowed, looking at the floor. "I am beginning to understand that, I think. I know that I never meant for him to feel that way. Have you spoken to Erestor about me at all? Have you told him that I am sorry for the hurts I caused?"

Elrond shook his head sadly. "Erestor cannot face it at this moment. He is utterly broken, mellonen vell. It will be some time before he is ready to deal with his grief and move forward. In the meantime, we should focus on you and your training." ( my dear friend)

"What is the point of learning all of this if I can no longer share it with my lover?" Glorfindel asked, fear causing his voice to hitch. "I will never desire to be a Tumbo for any other Ingor than Erestor. And you tell me he is lost."

Elrond's eyes flashed, and he stood, looking down sternly at Glorfindel. "Lost he may be, but until you are waiting for him at the end of his path, he will never find his way home to us! Waste no more time on this foolishness, Glorfindel! You are the focus here; let us repair one thing at a time."

"Aye, Lord Elrond, you are right," the blond said softly, thoroughly reprimanded. "I apologize for interrupting."

His point made, Elrond reclaimed his seat, falling easily back into the conversational tone he'd held before his outburst. "The fourth pillar," he continued, "is respect. Respect is having exceptional regard for another person, recognizing them as the unique and special being that they are. To the Tumbo, respect means keeping deference to your Ingor in all things. To the Ingor, respect means treating your Tumbo as the precious person that they are. I do not think I need to show how you lost respect for each other as individuals. Instead, you each saw your partner as a tool, a means to an end.

"The fifth pillar is pride. Pride is the knowledge that one is worthwhile, a respect and esteem for oneself. To the Tumbo, pride means never giving up your dignity or your self-worth. To the Ingor, pride means creating an atmosphere where your Tumbo feels comfortable and safe. Your pride was a fragile enough thing before being introduced to Erestor's playroom; it did not take much to shatter it completely. And for Erestor, comfort and safety became less of a concern than fulfilling your wants."

Elrond took a deep breath, clasping his hands in front of him. "Finally, the sixth pillar is trust. Trust is the cornerstone; impossible to achieve without the other five, and yet the foundation of them all. Trust is more than blind faith or unerring devotion; it is the dedication to make oneself worthy of trust in return. To the Tumbo, trust means giving yourself to your Ingor with a willingness to have your limits tested, but also means being clear and firm when those limits are truly breached. To the Ingor, trust means giving final control of the session to your Tumbo through the safety word, but also means being able to sense those unspoken moments when your Tumbo wants to end a session but does not."

Elrond paused for a long, silent moment. "What trust you and Erestor had for each other was destroyed long ago," he finally said, his tone quiet and full of sorrow. "I can teach you how to regain your sense of Spirit, Honesty, Affection, Respect, and Pride, and I will. Trust, though, cannot be taught; it must be earned. But once Trust is lost, regaining it is a demanding -- if not impossible -- task."

"But if it is impossible --" Glorfindel began, panicking visibly for Elrond to see. The Elda's despair was something Elrond could acutely feel, and he wanted desperately to relieve those worries.

"He loves you, Glorfindel," the Peredhel reminded him gently. "He loves you, frankly, more than I would have believed him capable of. He loved me and I loved him, true, but the depth of that feeling could never compare to what he feels for you. That love makes it possible, but only once everything else is in place. Even then, it will take time."

The Elda chuckled then, a hollow, mirthless sound. "What else do I have but time, my Lord?"

Elrond patted Glorfindel on the thigh, kissing the Elda's temple sweetly. "You have hope, meldir. For perhaps the first time since your return, you have hope."

TBC...