The Wrong Path

Title: The Wrong Path
Author: Erviniae
Chapter 21/?
Prompt: #45 “The Wrong Path”
For the Hall of Books challenge
Pairing: Erestor/Ecthelion, Erestor/OFC, Glorfindel
Rating: PG to eventual NC-17
Warning: AU, Angst, M/M
Disclaimer: All belongs to the esteemed Tolkien. I make no profit
in having fun with his wonderful universe.
Summary: Sometimes the wrong path is often the
Right one.
Feedback: If you would be so kind.

Meetings Old and New

The carriage ride seemed to take a rout that stretched a distance almost unbearable to the occupants. Unbearable not for lack of comfort, for the seats were well cushioned and the road as smooth as silk. The discomfort stemmed from the passengers: two of whom were lost deep within thoughts of their coming meetings with families they had either never met or had not had encounters with in ages.

Celebrían began to speak for the fifth time in as many hours and upon seeing the brooding countenance of the men in her company, complete with furrowed brows and pursed lips, she promptly decided all small talk would be absolutely useless. Turning her face towards the window, she took small delight in the wondrous green fields in view, replete with seas of wildflowers in a rainbow of colors. Streams bobbled gently by; feeding various birds, animals and Elves alike in its life sustaining flow. Cottages dusted the fields here and there, filled with Elves living as farmers. Squeals of elfling’s laughter brought a smile to her comely face. She thought of her own children and remembered those days fondly.

Espying the city in the near distance, Celebrían broke her silence. “We are nearing Tirion, my dears, time to awaken from your melancholy.”

As if on cue, both Elrond and Erestor sighed deeply before sitting straighter in their seats. Celebrían smoothed a feigned stray hair behind her husband’s ear as an excuse to run her delicate fingers along Elrond’s pensive jaw. “Relax, my love,” she whispered, to which he nodded, finally smiling somewhat. He caught her hand in his, only to bring it to his mouth whereupon his soft lips lightly kissed them. She smiled wide, her eyes shining with her love for her husband. Erestor looked at that simple act and felt their adoration radiate from within. He blushed at the intimacy behind such a sweet gesture.

The path became louder as the simple pave gave way to a more complex geometrical pattern of stone. Erestor marveled upon the site of the city: millennia of wondrous stone and marble towers of white and gray that delighted the eye. He had a sudden memory of Gondolin; for many of the same designs were in evidence here. A sudden panic began to fill his eyes. Celebrían saw the change and leaned forward in her seat to brush his forearm with her hand. “All will be well, my friend.” She tried to reassure him with a pat and a smile. Erestor then looked at Elrond who was only capable of a little shrug. Together they burst out laughing for fear of crying.

The carriage came to a stop before a courtyard leading to a large home. The house had many levels in the base of one of the towers. Servants stood ready beside a beautiful Elf-maid with wise gray eyes and a tall man with hair dark as pitch, his nose and chin strong and sure. The ellith began to cry. Her gaze never strayed from Elrond’s face. The man smiled wide, pride shining brightly from his blue eyes. The servants bowed and gathered the luggage as the travelers stood before their hosts. Celebrían bowed her head in greeting. “My dear Celebrían, it is a blessing to see you once more,” Idril spoke as she kissed each of her cheeks and Tuor followed suit.

Idril then moved before her grandson. He was an Elf she knew so much of yet never had they ever met. “My son, my heart is overfilled with joy to finally have you here before me. Long have I waited for this day to welcome you home. “Her voice was shaking as it took all her will not to succumb to her emotions. She stepped closer, her eyes glistening wet while her hands shakily touched the face before her. Elrond stood before her in disbelief. His face a mixture of joy and sadness.

“Grandmother,” he leaned into her touch and embraced her hard.

Tuor stood before them now, his strong hand on Elrond’s shoulder. His strained voice choked out, “well met, my son, well met.” Elrond was struck by the visage of his own sons’ in their grandfather’s face.

Tuor composed himself enough to step aside to greet Erestor. “Welcome to our home, Counselor Erestor, we are most pleased to have this fortune to meet our grandson’s most trusted advisor.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, my lord.” Erestor bowed in greeting. “It is an honor to stand in your presence.”

Idril pulled herself away from Elrond enough to smile at Erestor. “Counselor Erestor of once Gondolin, I remember your face and welcome you home." She placed a hand on his arm to which he bowed his head, blushing.

“I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, my lady.”

“Come inside, we have a lunch prepared. You must be quite hungry and thirsty from your travels.” They followed their hosts inside, though not before Elrond and Erestor shared a quick look of relief. At least, this meeting went smoothly. Erestor could only hope that his would go so well.

Celebrían nudged her way between the two, tucked her hand in both Elrond’s and Erestor’s arm as she escorted them into the house.

The next morning, in a restless night of strange dreams, Erestor awoke to the aroma of smoked fish and fresh baked bread. A gentle breeze through the sheer curtains wrapped itself around him, his mind cleared as his stomach rumbled in response to the tantalizing odors permeating this temporary room. He dressed carefully, choosing a long dark gray tunic to wear over his soft cotton shirt of forest green. He wore hose of similar hue which were tucked into black calf boots of the softest polished leather. A green sash was tied loosely at his waist. One final look in the polished mirror, a tuck of his impeccably combed hair and he was ready to tackle the day.

A servant assisted him to the dining hall whereupon he was greeted by his host and hostess and a pleasantly relaxed countenance of his lord and friend. “Good morning,” Erestor nodded to all there. Pleasantries were exchanged all around. After a late breakfast, Erestor excused himself from the table. Elrond rose and bade him well.

“If you wish it, I will go with you." Elrond whispered into his ear.

"I thank you my friend," Erestor sighed wearily, moved by the depth of his friendship; which was only one in a long line of friendships he had acquired over the years. "This is something I must accomplish on my own."

Elrond nodded in understanding while Celebrían gently took Erestor's hand in hers. "May the Valar guide you on your journey, and may you find peace in all you seek.”

"Thank you my lady," Erestor half bowed as he smiled at his fortune: family and friends true.

Walking along the streets of Tuná, Erestor was assuaged with familiarities; memories filled his mind as his childhood came rushing in to make him feel dizzy: his heart began to race, sweat formed on his brow, as that fateful day of his childhood whereupon he met Ecthelion first. The warrior was larger-than-life with eyes full of kindness and humor.

Clandestine meetings by moonlight... the excitement of new found love and lust. The deliciousness of almost getting caught. The allure of the forbidden. A smile crept along his full lips only to disappear abruptly as less than pleasant thoughts replaced his reminiscence. His father's chastisement of his declarations of love for Ecthelion that fateful day he lost his ball; his mother's quiet strength and hauntingly sad eyes. That bastard, Salgant, and his forced offer of treachery and finally to the fall itself, assailed all his senses.
Closing his eyes tight, Erestor stopped, suddenly unaware of his surroundings. His senses were overloaded: screams, smoke, fire and metal clanging were all around him once more. He became lost in his head, as if transported back to the very past. He was reliving The Fall – all those centuries of repressed memories and of forgotten dreams overflowed his synapses causing him to fall to his knees while clutching his head. Elves passing by gathered around unbeknownst to him. A few brave souls tried to calm him to no avail.

A hand landed hard on his shoulder, then another, shaking him roughly. Sound came to his ears as through a funnel-far away and echoing. “Erestor…Erestor…Erestor!" Breathing heavily, heart racing, sweat dripping steadily down his face; Erestor slowly looked up with wild eyes. Kneeling before him was the very Elf who had caused Erestor the most grief… Ecthelion.

"Erestor, I..." Ecthelion’s eyes were filled with his emotions: deep sadness, surprise and overwhelming guilt.

"You!" snarled Erestor as he poked a shaky index finger into the center of his once lover’s chest. “One word, not so much as a single word... eight months I have been here and not one word! I was worth so little to you that I did not deserve even one word?" Erestor was shaking with rage, his face red with anger at the Elf before him whom he had lost his heart to so many long years ago.

"I know my son delivered my letter, did he not?" Erestor spoke through clenched teeth.
"Yes." Ecthelion’s reply was nigh a whisper.

"You could have told me if you did not want me anymore. You could have told me if there was another, or perhaps you have even outgrown me?" Erestor asked. Ecthelion looked wildly around him, seeing the faces whispering about them; some with looks of complete confusion and others with the look of revulsion. Erestor realized that Ecthelion was concerned about his reputation still. Dismayed and hurt, Erestor pulled his right arm back and in an instant his fist flew forward to make contact with Ecthelion’s jaw. Ecthelion’s head snapped back in a blur of hair and then forward in anguish. Erestor stood on shaky legs, for an instant he thought they would fail him but they held fast as he quickly walked towards his destination: his parent’s home.

Ecthelion knew not how long he knelt there; it seemed like hours even though it was but a few minutes. He was afraid to move, afraid to see the faces of disgust around him. A gentle hand took hold of his shoulder. "Thel," Torech called him, "come on, let me take you home." Ecthelion stood on weary legs. He felt drained both physically and emotionally, his cheek was bright red and beginning to swell. "You love him don't you?" Torech asked quietly.

"I do." Ecthelion sighed.

By the time Erestor made it to the small house with a pretty little garden, that his parents resided in, his mind was still in quite the turmoil from the day’s events. The creak of the door opening made him look up to see his mother just exiting the house. She hastily wiped her hands on an apron which was tied around her waist. She started to cry and ran down the cobbled path to fall into her son's arms. Holding her tight, Erestor inhaled the scent of her hair -home -- she was home. Not wanting to let go, they stayed in their embrace gently rocking back and forth.

“My son, my son, oh how I have prayed for this day." She could barely speak

"Mother, I am so very sorry." Erestor quietly stated.

Eirien pulled back and gazed at her only child's face. His eyes were filled with all he had seen; they were wise and old. "Come in, come in, I shall make us some tea."

Erestor held her hand as together they walked to the open kitchen which was spotless and fresh. Sitting across the table from each other, their hands clasped together, Erestor took in every nuance of her face. She was still lovely, though time held some creases where there were once none, especially around her sad green eyes.

"I have a son, mother." She gripped his hand and began to cry tears of joy. "He is a wonderful Elf, I am so very proud of Melpomaen." Eirien whispered the name aloud. "He is wed to a delightful ellith and together they have a daughter born here in Valinor not seven months ago."

"Oh!" Eirien held on tighter to her son's hand. This was all so much to take in. She had lost her son so many years ago and now to learn that she has a grandson and great-granddaughter was almost too much for her to bear.

"She is bright and beautiful and I cannot wait for you to meet her. I cannot wait for you to meet them all." Erestor smiled wide, his face filled with pride. The whistle of the teapot broke into their moment. She quickly got up and put a cup before her son; she returned to her seat and poured the tea.

"And Lothwen? How is she?" Eirien asked.

"She is well. She is blissfully wed to Lord Glorfindel just a few months now."

"But how?" Eirien questioned, bewildered by the news.

"Dearest mother, Manwé granted our marriage null. We are the best of friends and I'm proud that she is the mother of my son." Here Erestor stopped, letting all that he said become absorbed by his mother. All manner of emotions crossed her face... until...

"Do you... I mean, are you...?" Eirien found herself unable to speak what she knew deep down in her heart.

Erestor rubbed his mother's hands with his thumbs. His gaze never wavered from hers.

"I prefer males. And yet, there has been none for me since..." Erestor sighed heavily, "since Gondolin."

“Oh my son, how very lonely for you." Eirien said quietly.

Not wanting his mother to worry, Erestor added suddenly, “nay, my life has been filled with family, friends and my work with the Lord Elrond. Oh mother, there's so much to tell you, but I want to know how you are... and of father."

"I will not lie and say that life has been happy, but it is quiet and I have waited for the day that you would come to us here in Valinor. Your father still works with King Turgon, helping to keep his books. I do believe you get your penchant for advisory duties from him."

“Aye.” Erestor nodded in agreement.

"Wait until he learns of your position with the Lord Elrond, he will be so proud." His mother was beaming. Erestor looked up into her eyes.

“Will he mother? Will that be good enough to cover my disgrace in his eyes?" In truth, Eirien could not answer the question posed to her.

Calimion, as if on cue, walked through the door searching for his wife; he was hungry yet he did not smell anything cooking.

“Did you forget dinner?" Calimion growled as he walked into the kitchen only to stop dead in his tracks. His eyes glared angrily at his son. “Back in Tuná but a day and already your disgrace is all over the main square!"

Erestor’s back stiffened; he squeezed his mother's hand gently and then turned to face his father. "I have no disgrace, father, for it is not forbidden, the love of two males.”

“Bah! Say not such vile things in my house!” Calimion growled.

“Calimion, please!” begged his mother, urging her husband to reconsider.

“Be quiet!” Calimion hissed at her, his face red and his hands balled into fists at his side. Eirien flinched, which did not go unnoticed by Erestor.

“Mother, please, come to New Imladris, stay with me, meet your grandson.” Erestor urged her.

“She is not going anywhere!” Calimion yelled as spittle flew from his mouth.

“Grandson?” Calimion looked bewildered then burst out into laughter. “Grandson? However did you manage that?”

“Calimion!” Eirien cried out. She was promptly ignored by her husband.

“Yes,” sneered Erestor’s father, “I heard all about your wife with Lord Glorfindel, couldn’t keep her, huh? Too much female for you?”

“Enough!” Erestor held up his hand to stop his father’s tirade, “I need not listen to your narrow minded drivel. “ He turned to leave. “Mother, my offer shall ever be open to you. I love you dearly.”

“Oh, my son, I love you too.” She fell into an embrace with him while Calimion fumed at the scene. He made a disgusted noise and abruptly left the room.

“Go to Lady Idril. She will have a carriage available to use whenever you wish it. I will see to it personally.” Eirien nodded, unable to speak. She kissed her son’s cheek as Erestor left her house: his heart heavily burdened.

TBC…