The Long Journey Home
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
6,565
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
6,565
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.
Revealed Past
Title: The Long Journey Home
Author: silmfan (trueself101@yahoo.com)
Beta reader: ealhswithofskye (Thank!)
!)
Rating: PG sr
r
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, Dhvana, and others.
Notes: Also iredired by Cold Mountain (the movie) 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.
My thanks to those that read and reviewed. It feels good to know that people acknowledge my existence. :o)
Again, reviews are appreciated.
{Note: For this particular chapter, as well as a few of the next (maybe), basic background knowledge of the First Age would help in understanding what happened.}
Chapter 3: Revealed Past
ar ear escaped out of the corner of Glorfindel’s eye when he woke up later in the week. This was not the first time it happened. Though the Valar blessed him with new life and new purpose, they did not take away his memories. The Vanya was offered a choice and he chose to keep them; however, this came with a price. Glorfindel, through his dreams, could recall every swing of his sword, every black heart he stabbed, every pain that shot through his muscles, every scream around him…
He brushed the salt drop away and began to get dressed, knowing that dwelling on his past would not change anything that happened on the day Gondolin fell. He took a mental note to visit Elrond after breakfast to see if there was some sort of dreamless concoction he could take to alleviate this.
On his way to the dining hall, Glorfindel heard quick footsteps approaching him and was slightly startled to see Erestor, with great haste, cross the corridor in front of him. He seemed to be in a rush off to…somewhere.
“Master Erestor, have you eaten breakfast yet?”
Glorfindel called out, turning his head to see Erestor suddenly stop and turn around in the middle of the hallway.
“That is not of your concern, Lord Glorfindel. Excuse me, I must work.”
With that, Erestor whirled around to urgently continue to where he was needed. The memories of the past unexpectedly swam through Glorfindel’s mind again and he spoke to the advisor once more before he disappeared.
“There is no need to call me Lord, Master Erestor. I am a Lord no longer.”
The ends of Erestor’s dark robes, however, already flew around the corner. Glorfindel sadly mused on his own words, the last few further severing his past from him. The gap between the past and the present seemed larger than ever now…
Glorfindel sighed and resumed his walk toward breakfast; the advisor paid him no attention, which should not have surprised him, but it still stung. The warrior’s effort may have garnered no response from the advisor, but unbeknownst to the golden-haired Elf, Erestor had heard every word.
+++
After eating his fill, Glorfindel smiled at his table companions and excused himself. His soft boots making no noise, except for an occasional squeak of leather on the marble floor, the warrior ambled toward Elrond’s study. An exceptional tracker and topographer, the golden-haired Elf easily recalled the way there, noting the specific landmarks in order. ‘Garden pool…beech tree with odd-shaped limb…statue of a naked female Elf…’ Glorfindel shook his head as he passed the latter object. As as as he appreciated beautiful tapestries and floral arrangement, he could not understand how naked statues were considered art. Against his better judgment, Glorfindel decided not to go to his room, grab his spare cloak, and cover the…piece of art. He needed to see Elrond.
One of the two wide doors to Elrond’s study was open, indicating that the Lord of Imladris was not too busy at the moment. As soon as Glorfindel entered and shut the door behind him, Elrond ld upd up and smiled.
“I did not know you were so eager to start your lesson plans. I believe we agreed to do it this afternoon?”
Glorfindel blinked before realizing that his Lord was being hous.ous.
“Ah…yes, my Lord. I will come later in the afternoon to write them up…but I need to talk to you about a problem of mine, if your work can wait.”
Elrond nodded and stood up, gesturing toward two armchairs by the fireplace on the other side of the room. The study was spacious, but cozy, the floor being thickly carpeted and the walls lined with thousands of books. As soon as the two sank into their chairs, Elrond nodded his head. Glorfindel felt slightly uncomfortable talking about his dreams (or rather, nightmares), but he knew he had to tell Elrond sooner or later.
“My memories…come back to me when I’m sleeping. I could…see the sun rising above the Echoriath. I could see familiar faces when I’m walking down the stairs…I could see the sky grow dark when the fell beasts of Morgoth came…”
Glorfindel stared into the blazing fireplace, lost in thought. Elrond leaned over to cover Glorfindel’s hand with his own. The warrior, startled, quickly turned to face his L
“I’m sorry…”
“No, there’s no reason to be sorry, Glorfindel. I expect you’ll be asking me for a dreamless brew?”
Glorfindel nodded wordlessly, folding one leg under him and biting his lower lip. Elrond squeezed the Vanya’s hand reassuringly.
“It will be all right. I’ll have Erestor make you one when he visits the healing houses. I suppose you know what time that is, then?”
Glorfindel smiled sheepishly, remembering his visit to Elladan’s room.
“I know, my Lord. And…Erestor will understand? I mean, when he makes the brew…”
Glorfindel re-bit his lip. Elrond clasped his hands tightly in his lap, his voice coming out soft. There was a slightly far-away look in his eyes.
“He will understand.”
Glorfindent hnt his Lord a look that clearly meant he wanted to know the past behind the words. Elrond took in a deep breath and leaned back, looking at Glorfindel carefully. His voice now took on a more guarded tone.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I want to understand him.”
“It is odd that you are the one asking me this, Glorfindel, because…well, I am willing to tell you what few in Arda know, only because you yourself have lived to see those dark times. Erestor…he has been through much.”
“My past life…he was in Gondolin?”
Glorfindel’s body tensed and his eyes widened in anticipation. He then relaxed back into his chair and sighed when Elrond shook his head.
“No. He was originally from Tirion. He was one of the many followers that Fëanor lured from Valinor. From there…”
Here, Elrond trailed off and released a deep sigh. He was not here to painfully recount what Glorfindel already knew.
“He is so exacting…careful in everything he does because he believes he cannot make a second mistake. I have forgiven him for his past deeds, but he has not yet forgiven himself. And I am afraid he never will.”
“And what did he do? What could he not forgive himself for?”
The warrior’s eyes shifted its gaze to the east window where a swaying tree with a myriad of thin limbs eclipsed the rising sun. The anguish was barely visible in them, but it was there as Glorfindel recalled the past. He suspected what it was that Erestor had done, but it had yet to be confirmed…
“He was a kinslayer.”
Elrond lowered his eyes, averting his gaze to the corner of the rug the chairs were situated on. As soon as that particular word fell from Elrond’s lips, Glorfindel closed his eyes and let out a sigh that held the weight of all the years he carried witm: sm: sorrow, regret, even anger. The two Elves stood in silence for several minutes before Glorfindel lifted his eyes back onto Elrond’s face. The Lord of Imladris continued with a weary and mournful voice, his sentences marked by hesitant pauses.
“He began as a foot soldier under the leadership of Maglor, son of Fëanor, but was soon promoted to captain, then herald. I had the chance of meeting him when I was a child under Maglor’s care…he was yet young and full of vibrant energy. Some say that he was Maglor’s beloved, but I highly doubt that. Love was scarce in those days. The war changed him…changed him so much. I cannot say that the Erestor I know now was anything like the Erestor of those days. He never laughs now, never smiles…he still lives in the faults of his past. I urged him to find peace in Tol Eressëa, but he absolutely refused…told me that he did not deserve to go, though the Valar forgave the exiled Noldor.”
Elrond pressed hips ips firmly together, as if debating whether to continue or not. Whether it was by Glorfindel’s show of true interest or his own loquacious nature, the Lof Iof Imladris went on.
“He still hangs his bloodstained sword in his room as a reminder of his grievous error. I’ve seen his room only once, when I had to deliver a personal letter. He heeds none of my advice on healing his past wounds…but then, I am not one to control his life. His path is his own to govern. He’s a tortured, hardened soul, Glorfindel. I lost hope centuries ago of bringing the old Erestor back.”
Glorfindel proceeded to say nothing and fix his gaze back on the east window. After a long while, he turned to face his Lord again. The warrior showed no trace now of the youthful joy from the first day of his arrival…he looked older than ever.
“The terrors of war can both sunder and unite...I can only hope that this time it may unite.”
The warrior’s voice was somber and laced with bitterness.
“They may yet. But please, Glorfindel, do not broach this subject in his presence. He may not look it, but Erestor is sensitive to anything concerning his past.”
“Do not worry. I did not ever plan to. I cannot say I fully understand him now, few can, but I feel closer to him now…in a way. I regret I did not have the chance to meet him…the old Erestor. We might’ve gotten along well.”
A moving figure outside the window caught Glorfindel’s attention and as it neared, the warrior realized that it was Erestor, holding a gardening spade and pair of black gloves.
“I think I will take a walk…”
Elrond cast a fleeting look at his Chief Advisor, then turned back to his Chief of Defense, nodding slowly.
“Remember, Glorfindel…”
“I know, my Lord. I know.”
With that, the golden-haired Elf strode out of the study with a certain heaviness to his steps that had not been there before.
Author: silmfan (trueself101@yahoo.com)
Beta reader: ealhswithofskye (Thank!)
!)
Rating: PG sr
r
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, Dhvana, and others.
Notes: Also iredired by Cold Mountain (the movie) 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.
My thanks to those that read and reviewed. It feels good to know that people acknowledge my existence. :o)
Again, reviews are appreciated.
{Note: For this particular chapter, as well as a few of the next (maybe), basic background knowledge of the First Age would help in understanding what happened.}
Chapter 3: Revealed Past
ar ear escaped out of the corner of Glorfindel’s eye when he woke up later in the week. This was not the first time it happened. Though the Valar blessed him with new life and new purpose, they did not take away his memories. The Vanya was offered a choice and he chose to keep them; however, this came with a price. Glorfindel, through his dreams, could recall every swing of his sword, every black heart he stabbed, every pain that shot through his muscles, every scream around him…
He brushed the salt drop away and began to get dressed, knowing that dwelling on his past would not change anything that happened on the day Gondolin fell. He took a mental note to visit Elrond after breakfast to see if there was some sort of dreamless concoction he could take to alleviate this.
On his way to the dining hall, Glorfindel heard quick footsteps approaching him and was slightly startled to see Erestor, with great haste, cross the corridor in front of him. He seemed to be in a rush off to…somewhere.
“Master Erestor, have you eaten breakfast yet?”
Glorfindel called out, turning his head to see Erestor suddenly stop and turn around in the middle of the hallway.
“That is not of your concern, Lord Glorfindel. Excuse me, I must work.”
With that, Erestor whirled around to urgently continue to where he was needed. The memories of the past unexpectedly swam through Glorfindel’s mind again and he spoke to the advisor once more before he disappeared.
“There is no need to call me Lord, Master Erestor. I am a Lord no longer.”
The ends of Erestor’s dark robes, however, already flew around the corner. Glorfindel sadly mused on his own words, the last few further severing his past from him. The gap between the past and the present seemed larger than ever now…
Glorfindel sighed and resumed his walk toward breakfast; the advisor paid him no attention, which should not have surprised him, but it still stung. The warrior’s effort may have garnered no response from the advisor, but unbeknownst to the golden-haired Elf, Erestor had heard every word.
+++
After eating his fill, Glorfindel smiled at his table companions and excused himself. His soft boots making no noise, except for an occasional squeak of leather on the marble floor, the warrior ambled toward Elrond’s study. An exceptional tracker and topographer, the golden-haired Elf easily recalled the way there, noting the specific landmarks in order. ‘Garden pool…beech tree with odd-shaped limb…statue of a naked female Elf…’ Glorfindel shook his head as he passed the latter object. As as as he appreciated beautiful tapestries and floral arrangement, he could not understand how naked statues were considered art. Against his better judgment, Glorfindel decided not to go to his room, grab his spare cloak, and cover the…piece of art. He needed to see Elrond.
One of the two wide doors to Elrond’s study was open, indicating that the Lord of Imladris was not too busy at the moment. As soon as Glorfindel entered and shut the door behind him, Elrond ld upd up and smiled.
“I did not know you were so eager to start your lesson plans. I believe we agreed to do it this afternoon?”
Glorfindel blinked before realizing that his Lord was being hous.ous.
“Ah…yes, my Lord. I will come later in the afternoon to write them up…but I need to talk to you about a problem of mine, if your work can wait.”
Elrond nodded and stood up, gesturing toward two armchairs by the fireplace on the other side of the room. The study was spacious, but cozy, the floor being thickly carpeted and the walls lined with thousands of books. As soon as the two sank into their chairs, Elrond nodded his head. Glorfindel felt slightly uncomfortable talking about his dreams (or rather, nightmares), but he knew he had to tell Elrond sooner or later.
“My memories…come back to me when I’m sleeping. I could…see the sun rising above the Echoriath. I could see familiar faces when I’m walking down the stairs…I could see the sky grow dark when the fell beasts of Morgoth came…”
Glorfindel stared into the blazing fireplace, lost in thought. Elrond leaned over to cover Glorfindel’s hand with his own. The warrior, startled, quickly turned to face his L
“I’m sorry…”
“No, there’s no reason to be sorry, Glorfindel. I expect you’ll be asking me for a dreamless brew?”
Glorfindel nodded wordlessly, folding one leg under him and biting his lower lip. Elrond squeezed the Vanya’s hand reassuringly.
“It will be all right. I’ll have Erestor make you one when he visits the healing houses. I suppose you know what time that is, then?”
Glorfindel smiled sheepishly, remembering his visit to Elladan’s room.
“I know, my Lord. And…Erestor will understand? I mean, when he makes the brew…”
Glorfindel re-bit his lip. Elrond clasped his hands tightly in his lap, his voice coming out soft. There was a slightly far-away look in his eyes.
“He will understand.”
Glorfindent hnt his Lord a look that clearly meant he wanted to know the past behind the words. Elrond took in a deep breath and leaned back, looking at Glorfindel carefully. His voice now took on a more guarded tone.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I want to understand him.”
“It is odd that you are the one asking me this, Glorfindel, because…well, I am willing to tell you what few in Arda know, only because you yourself have lived to see those dark times. Erestor…he has been through much.”
“My past life…he was in Gondolin?”
Glorfindel’s body tensed and his eyes widened in anticipation. He then relaxed back into his chair and sighed when Elrond shook his head.
“No. He was originally from Tirion. He was one of the many followers that Fëanor lured from Valinor. From there…”
Here, Elrond trailed off and released a deep sigh. He was not here to painfully recount what Glorfindel already knew.
“He is so exacting…careful in everything he does because he believes he cannot make a second mistake. I have forgiven him for his past deeds, but he has not yet forgiven himself. And I am afraid he never will.”
“And what did he do? What could he not forgive himself for?”
The warrior’s eyes shifted its gaze to the east window where a swaying tree with a myriad of thin limbs eclipsed the rising sun. The anguish was barely visible in them, but it was there as Glorfindel recalled the past. He suspected what it was that Erestor had done, but it had yet to be confirmed…
“He was a kinslayer.”
Elrond lowered his eyes, averting his gaze to the corner of the rug the chairs were situated on. As soon as that particular word fell from Elrond’s lips, Glorfindel closed his eyes and let out a sigh that held the weight of all the years he carried witm: sm: sorrow, regret, even anger. The two Elves stood in silence for several minutes before Glorfindel lifted his eyes back onto Elrond’s face. The Lord of Imladris continued with a weary and mournful voice, his sentences marked by hesitant pauses.
“He began as a foot soldier under the leadership of Maglor, son of Fëanor, but was soon promoted to captain, then herald. I had the chance of meeting him when I was a child under Maglor’s care…he was yet young and full of vibrant energy. Some say that he was Maglor’s beloved, but I highly doubt that. Love was scarce in those days. The war changed him…changed him so much. I cannot say that the Erestor I know now was anything like the Erestor of those days. He never laughs now, never smiles…he still lives in the faults of his past. I urged him to find peace in Tol Eressëa, but he absolutely refused…told me that he did not deserve to go, though the Valar forgave the exiled Noldor.”
Elrond pressed hips ips firmly together, as if debating whether to continue or not. Whether it was by Glorfindel’s show of true interest or his own loquacious nature, the Lof Iof Imladris went on.
“He still hangs his bloodstained sword in his room as a reminder of his grievous error. I’ve seen his room only once, when I had to deliver a personal letter. He heeds none of my advice on healing his past wounds…but then, I am not one to control his life. His path is his own to govern. He’s a tortured, hardened soul, Glorfindel. I lost hope centuries ago of bringing the old Erestor back.”
Glorfindel proceeded to say nothing and fix his gaze back on the east window. After a long while, he turned to face his Lord again. The warrior showed no trace now of the youthful joy from the first day of his arrival…he looked older than ever.
“The terrors of war can both sunder and unite...I can only hope that this time it may unite.”
The warrior’s voice was somber and laced with bitterness.
“They may yet. But please, Glorfindel, do not broach this subject in his presence. He may not look it, but Erestor is sensitive to anything concerning his past.”
“Do not worry. I did not ever plan to. I cannot say I fully understand him now, few can, but I feel closer to him now…in a way. I regret I did not have the chance to meet him…the old Erestor. We might’ve gotten along well.”
A moving figure outside the window caught Glorfindel’s attention and as it neared, the warrior realized that it was Erestor, holding a gardening spade and pair of black gloves.
“I think I will take a walk…”
Elrond cast a fleeting look at his Chief Advisor, then turned back to his Chief of Defense, nodding slowly.
“Remember, Glorfindel…”
“I know, my Lord. I know.”
With that, the golden-haired Elf strode out of the study with a certain heaviness to his steps that had not been there before.