The Long Journey Home
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
6,564
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
6,564
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Drifting Thoughts
Title: The Long Journey Home
Author: silmfan (trueself101@yahoo.com)
Beta reader: ealhswithofskye (Thank you!)
Rating: PG so far
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Warning: m/m slash
Setting: Near the beginning of the Third Age, before the War of the Ring and when Elrond’s sons are still young elflings. Slightly AU (?)
Disclaimer: Obviously, these Elves do not belong to me.
Authors that inspire/motivate me (though by no means making my writing as good as theirs): Eresse, Ezra’s Persian Kitty, Kharessa Bloodrose, Orchard Constyne, Morgana, McKenna Espenshade, Oakenshield, and others.
Notes: Also inspired by Cold Mountain (the m) an) and chocolate. There’s a canonical side in me; there’s a slashy side in me. Yeah, the slashy side won. There’s no absolute certainty that I will complete this…it looks like it might turn out to be a long series. It depends on how much time I have (which is not a lot to begin with). I also have a tendency to leave stories unfinished when my imagination well runs dry. But, here goes.
Reviews are appreciated. :o)
Chapter 2: Drifting Thoughts
‘Bath. I have definitely missed having a proper morning bath.’ Glorfindel felt relaxed and completely at ease as he finished washing off scented suds. The Hall of Mandos, Glorfindel led fid first-hand, lacked such a luxury for spirits. The Vala himself did not take the warrior’s plan for renovation, telling him it’d just be a waste of water. The blond chuckled, remembering the initial blank stare Mandos gave him after proposing the idea. He stepped out of the shallow end of a small bath “cubicle” and grabbed a thick, fluffy towel.
Rather than designing the public bathhouse in the traditional fashion (one or two large pools), Elrond decided to grant the residents of Imladris a little more privacy, creating rows of tiny square pools. Each had a its own towel and accessories rack and could accommodate one or two people.
Draining out the used water and turning on the tap to refill the small pool, Glorfindel started humming and wrapping the towel around his waist. As he was about to round the corner toward the glass entry doors, he realized that going out into the main hallway with naught but a towel on would be highly improper. Frowning, he dropped his towel behind him and picked up the long robe he slept in the night before from the laundry basket. He put it on again, feeling rather…well, dirty. Elves can’t help but be exceptionally clean and fastidious. There was no “why”, they just…were. Glorfindel absentmindedly pondered if Ilúvatar had put hygiene at the top of his priority list when he made the Elves.
Knowing he didn’t have spare clothes, Glorfindel padded past his room and up another flight of stairs to a small corridor where a few early-rising seamstresses were already at work. He smiled sheepishly and the women, blushing, began taking and recording his measurements.
Approximately forty-five minutes later (‘They work fast,’ he marveled, staring at the plain yet comfortable outfit he was now wearing), Glorfindel was striding back to his room, musing on what breakfast was going to be. A white corner of paper sticking out from under his door caught his eye and he picked it up, idly wondering who left it.
It read:
Lord Glorfindel,
It will be better for the well-being of the rest of Imladris’s inhabitants if you do not leave your soaking towels on the floors of the public bathhouse. Then particular, half-awake elflings may not be so susceptible to elbow injuries while rounding corners. You may visit Elladan in the second healing house in the third room on the left.
Sincerely,
Erestor
Glorfindel winced as he learned what had happened due to his carelessness. Rushing in his room, he snatched up a box of chocolates (one of the many gifts he had received the night before) and grabbed his now-clean cloak. He folded the note as he went, thankful that the young Elf who led him to his room showed him where the healing houses were. ‘What was his name?…Oh yes, Lindir. I’ll have to remember that. And why won’t this fit?’ Glorfindel folded the note four times and still it wouldn’t fit in the small, extremely shallow pocket on his tunic, near the hip. Grumbling, he gave up and left the note crumpled in his left hand.
He looked up in admiration at the archway leading into the second healing house, an ornate “2” etched in the center with the words “To Hold and To Heal” carved along the edge of the arch’s curve.
In the stark whiteness of the halls, though beautifully adorned with various flora and plants (and the occasional vines hanging from the second floor railings), and among the beige-clad healers, Erestor stood out sharply in his black office robes. As Glorfindel walked toward him tentatively, he caught snippets of the advisor’s conversation with who seemed to be an apprentice. The Chief Advisor was pointing to the back pages of an herb lore book that the apprentice was holding with a little difficulty (it was rather large), and correcting the mistakes of recent additions.
“…And those need to be switched. Do not use more ink than necessarringring this back at ten sharp. You may go.”
The rapidity of Erestor’s words stunned Glorfindel. It was as if the advisor was unable to hold a proper conversation, let alone an amiable one. ‘Probably not far from the truth,’ Glorfindel concluded. Erestor looked up as the golden-haired Elf came near him.
“Lord Glorfindel. You may come in.”
Without another word, Erestor swept into the room where Elladan was currently residing, clearly expecting Glorfindel to follow. And of course, he did, albeit nervously.
“Remember: do not move and listen to the healers. You may skip today’s lesson. I expect you to attend tomorrow.”
Glorfindel stood hesitantly at the doorway, listening to Erestor’s brief instructions. Surprisingly, Elladan seemed intent on catching every word, not that there were many. Somberly, the older twin nodded and, watching the advisor glide toward the door, realized Glorfindel was there. The warrior met Erestor’s unfathomable gaze for a few seconds before the advisor abruptly broke the connection and swiftly headed outside. ‘Always in a rush…it seems Elrond is right,’ Glorfindel reflected on what the Lord of Imladris told him during a conversation at dinner: “Erestor’s a ubiquitous soul, being everywhere all day, every day! I cannot keep count of how many vacation days he has missed now…” Breaking from his thoughts and lifting his head, Glorfindel could see the small figure huddled under a pile of blankets on an enormous bed. Unsure of the child’s reaction toward his careless error, he walked softly to the edge of Elladan’s bed and sat down gently, awaiting a response.
“Lord Glorfindel…”
Elladan began with such solemnity that Glorfindel wondered whether Erestor’s demeanor was started to affect the child’s mind…permanently. He quickly focused his attention on the elder twin’s next words.
“I realize that although this was all your fault, it was an accident. Therefore, I will not tell Ada that you did it. I will say I fell off a tree. What say you?”
The elfling pointed to his fractured elbow (which was currently being wrapped in gauze and plaster) and blinked benignly at the old warrior. A smile tugged at the corners of Glorfindel’s lips.
“Nay, Elladan. It was my fault and it is my duty to inform your father as soon as I get the chance. I am so sorry, young one…but I bring good tidings that may hopefully cheer you up a bit.”
Glorfindel placed the box of chocolates on Elladan’s lap, peering inquisitively into his face. Immediately, the child’s grave semblance was gone and he grinned, his eyes sparkling with glee.
“I love chocolates!”
“I can tell. Does it hurt much?”
Glorfindel’s countenance turned to one of concern and worry as he eyed the near-finished cast a healer was patiently working on.
“Only when I fell on it. Then when Master Erestor brought me here, he gave me a drink that made it all better. He said that all I have to do is wait a day or two and then the cast can come off. Then he said Ada would come by soon. He’s always busy, working with Erestor with too much paper. Wasting them on boring stuff, I say…”
Elladan babbled on while nodding his head slightly here and there to emphasize several points. He then paused to pick up a chocolate ball with hard, white strips of icing on it and pop it in his mouth. After several rigorous chews and a giant swallowing motion, the elfling continued, leaping from one random subject to another…
“And one time Erestor rescued me from a big snake, which was only a garden snake but I didn’t know that. It just popped out from behind a tree! Actually, I hid in that tree once when I was mad at Elrohir for being silly, although it wasn’t really his fault ‘cause he’s still littler than me. Then it rained really hard and I got scared. Erestor found me though and got me off the tree, even though he hates being wet. I think it has something to do with his robes being spoiled…”
And so, Elladan rambled for another thirty minutes or so, with Glorfindel paying close attention, learning more about the curt advisor from the little Elf than he probably would’ve learned from Erestor himself in ten-thousand years.
It seemed Erestor, despite his stiffness and tendency to isolate himself, cared for people as much as he does paperwork. At least, Glorfindel hoped so. Talking to an actual Elf would certainly be easier than talking to a statue with a pile of books and parchment. ‘I wonder why he’s so intent on keeping Imladris in tip-top condition every minute,’ Glorfindel contemplated. Suddenly, the blond warrior realized that his thoughts kept drifting to the terse advisor. He frowned and shook his head.
“Thinking about him certainly won’t improve his character.”
He mumbled then started when Elladan interrupted, the elfling’s eyes both bright and scrutinizing.
“Whose character?”
Glorfindel smiled and reached out to stroke Elladan’s soft chestnut-colored hair.
“A stubborn Elf.”
“Me?”
Glorfindel laughed aloud and shook his head, eyes glittering in mirth.
“No, not you, little one. It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“If you say so.”
Elladan shrugged and went back to inspecting the contents of his box of chocolates. Glorfindel continued to sit and make small talk with the child, waiting patiently until Elrond arrived to check up on his eldest son. However, the enigmatic advisor still lingered in the back of the warrior’s mind, quiet but sharp, and Glorfindel wondered what this meant.
Author: silmfan (trueself101@yahoo.com)
Beta reader: ealhswithofskye (Thank you!)
Rating: PG so far
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Warning: m/m slash
Setting: Near the beginning of the Third Age, before the War of the Ring and when Elrond’s sons are still young elflings. Slightly AU (?)
Disclaimer: Obviously, these Elves do not belong to me.
Authors that inspire/motivate me (though by no means making my writing as good as theirs): Eresse, Ezra’s Persian Kitty, Kharessa Bloodrose, Orchard Constyne, Morgana, McKenna Espenshade, Oakenshield, and others.
Notes: Also inspired by Cold Mountain (the m) an) and chocolate. There’s a canonical side in me; there’s a slashy side in me. Yeah, the slashy side won. There’s no absolute certainty that I will complete this…it looks like it might turn out to be a long series. It depends on how much time I have (which is not a lot to begin with). I also have a tendency to leave stories unfinished when my imagination well runs dry. But, here goes.
Reviews are appreciated. :o)
Chapter 2: Drifting Thoughts
‘Bath. I have definitely missed having a proper morning bath.’ Glorfindel felt relaxed and completely at ease as he finished washing off scented suds. The Hall of Mandos, Glorfindel led fid first-hand, lacked such a luxury for spirits. The Vala himself did not take the warrior’s plan for renovation, telling him it’d just be a waste of water. The blond chuckled, remembering the initial blank stare Mandos gave him after proposing the idea. He stepped out of the shallow end of a small bath “cubicle” and grabbed a thick, fluffy towel.
Rather than designing the public bathhouse in the traditional fashion (one or two large pools), Elrond decided to grant the residents of Imladris a little more privacy, creating rows of tiny square pools. Each had a its own towel and accessories rack and could accommodate one or two people.
Draining out the used water and turning on the tap to refill the small pool, Glorfindel started humming and wrapping the towel around his waist. As he was about to round the corner toward the glass entry doors, he realized that going out into the main hallway with naught but a towel on would be highly improper. Frowning, he dropped his towel behind him and picked up the long robe he slept in the night before from the laundry basket. He put it on again, feeling rather…well, dirty. Elves can’t help but be exceptionally clean and fastidious. There was no “why”, they just…were. Glorfindel absentmindedly pondered if Ilúvatar had put hygiene at the top of his priority list when he made the Elves.
Knowing he didn’t have spare clothes, Glorfindel padded past his room and up another flight of stairs to a small corridor where a few early-rising seamstresses were already at work. He smiled sheepishly and the women, blushing, began taking and recording his measurements.
Approximately forty-five minutes later (‘They work fast,’ he marveled, staring at the plain yet comfortable outfit he was now wearing), Glorfindel was striding back to his room, musing on what breakfast was going to be. A white corner of paper sticking out from under his door caught his eye and he picked it up, idly wondering who left it.
It read:
Lord Glorfindel,
It will be better for the well-being of the rest of Imladris’s inhabitants if you do not leave your soaking towels on the floors of the public bathhouse. Then particular, half-awake elflings may not be so susceptible to elbow injuries while rounding corners. You may visit Elladan in the second healing house in the third room on the left.
Sincerely,
Erestor
Glorfindel winced as he learned what had happened due to his carelessness. Rushing in his room, he snatched up a box of chocolates (one of the many gifts he had received the night before) and grabbed his now-clean cloak. He folded the note as he went, thankful that the young Elf who led him to his room showed him where the healing houses were. ‘What was his name?…Oh yes, Lindir. I’ll have to remember that. And why won’t this fit?’ Glorfindel folded the note four times and still it wouldn’t fit in the small, extremely shallow pocket on his tunic, near the hip. Grumbling, he gave up and left the note crumpled in his left hand.
He looked up in admiration at the archway leading into the second healing house, an ornate “2” etched in the center with the words “To Hold and To Heal” carved along the edge of the arch’s curve.
In the stark whiteness of the halls, though beautifully adorned with various flora and plants (and the occasional vines hanging from the second floor railings), and among the beige-clad healers, Erestor stood out sharply in his black office robes. As Glorfindel walked toward him tentatively, he caught snippets of the advisor’s conversation with who seemed to be an apprentice. The Chief Advisor was pointing to the back pages of an herb lore book that the apprentice was holding with a little difficulty (it was rather large), and correcting the mistakes of recent additions.
“…And those need to be switched. Do not use more ink than necessarringring this back at ten sharp. You may go.”
The rapidity of Erestor’s words stunned Glorfindel. It was as if the advisor was unable to hold a proper conversation, let alone an amiable one. ‘Probably not far from the truth,’ Glorfindel concluded. Erestor looked up as the golden-haired Elf came near him.
“Lord Glorfindel. You may come in.”
Without another word, Erestor swept into the room where Elladan was currently residing, clearly expecting Glorfindel to follow. And of course, he did, albeit nervously.
“Remember: do not move and listen to the healers. You may skip today’s lesson. I expect you to attend tomorrow.”
Glorfindel stood hesitantly at the doorway, listening to Erestor’s brief instructions. Surprisingly, Elladan seemed intent on catching every word, not that there were many. Somberly, the older twin nodded and, watching the advisor glide toward the door, realized Glorfindel was there. The warrior met Erestor’s unfathomable gaze for a few seconds before the advisor abruptly broke the connection and swiftly headed outside. ‘Always in a rush…it seems Elrond is right,’ Glorfindel reflected on what the Lord of Imladris told him during a conversation at dinner: “Erestor’s a ubiquitous soul, being everywhere all day, every day! I cannot keep count of how many vacation days he has missed now…” Breaking from his thoughts and lifting his head, Glorfindel could see the small figure huddled under a pile of blankets on an enormous bed. Unsure of the child’s reaction toward his careless error, he walked softly to the edge of Elladan’s bed and sat down gently, awaiting a response.
“Lord Glorfindel…”
Elladan began with such solemnity that Glorfindel wondered whether Erestor’s demeanor was started to affect the child’s mind…permanently. He quickly focused his attention on the elder twin’s next words.
“I realize that although this was all your fault, it was an accident. Therefore, I will not tell Ada that you did it. I will say I fell off a tree. What say you?”
The elfling pointed to his fractured elbow (which was currently being wrapped in gauze and plaster) and blinked benignly at the old warrior. A smile tugged at the corners of Glorfindel’s lips.
“Nay, Elladan. It was my fault and it is my duty to inform your father as soon as I get the chance. I am so sorry, young one…but I bring good tidings that may hopefully cheer you up a bit.”
Glorfindel placed the box of chocolates on Elladan’s lap, peering inquisitively into his face. Immediately, the child’s grave semblance was gone and he grinned, his eyes sparkling with glee.
“I love chocolates!”
“I can tell. Does it hurt much?”
Glorfindel’s countenance turned to one of concern and worry as he eyed the near-finished cast a healer was patiently working on.
“Only when I fell on it. Then when Master Erestor brought me here, he gave me a drink that made it all better. He said that all I have to do is wait a day or two and then the cast can come off. Then he said Ada would come by soon. He’s always busy, working with Erestor with too much paper. Wasting them on boring stuff, I say…”
Elladan babbled on while nodding his head slightly here and there to emphasize several points. He then paused to pick up a chocolate ball with hard, white strips of icing on it and pop it in his mouth. After several rigorous chews and a giant swallowing motion, the elfling continued, leaping from one random subject to another…
“And one time Erestor rescued me from a big snake, which was only a garden snake but I didn’t know that. It just popped out from behind a tree! Actually, I hid in that tree once when I was mad at Elrohir for being silly, although it wasn’t really his fault ‘cause he’s still littler than me. Then it rained really hard and I got scared. Erestor found me though and got me off the tree, even though he hates being wet. I think it has something to do with his robes being spoiled…”
And so, Elladan rambled for another thirty minutes or so, with Glorfindel paying close attention, learning more about the curt advisor from the little Elf than he probably would’ve learned from Erestor himself in ten-thousand years.
It seemed Erestor, despite his stiffness and tendency to isolate himself, cared for people as much as he does paperwork. At least, Glorfindel hoped so. Talking to an actual Elf would certainly be easier than talking to a statue with a pile of books and parchment. ‘I wonder why he’s so intent on keeping Imladris in tip-top condition every minute,’ Glorfindel contemplated. Suddenly, the blond warrior realized that his thoughts kept drifting to the terse advisor. He frowned and shook his head.
“Thinking about him certainly won’t improve his character.”
He mumbled then started when Elladan interrupted, the elfling’s eyes both bright and scrutinizing.
“Whose character?”
Glorfindel smiled and reached out to stroke Elladan’s soft chestnut-colored hair.
“A stubborn Elf.”
“Me?”
Glorfindel laughed aloud and shook his head, eyes glittering in mirth.
“No, not you, little one. It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“If you say so.”
Elladan shrugged and went back to inspecting the contents of his box of chocolates. Glorfindel continued to sit and make small talk with the child, waiting patiently until Elrond arrived to check up on his eldest son. However, the enigmatic advisor still lingered in the back of the warrior’s mind, quiet but sharp, and Glorfindel wondered what this meant.