Deny Me Not

Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.

Deny Me Not.

Chapter 5.


Glorfindel’s duties as Captain of the Guard often took him awayadriadris, but never before had his absence been so keenly felt by Erestor. The advisor stood alone on the balcony that lead from their chambers and gazed unseeing across the valley that was shrouded in the blanket of night, his thoughts turned inwards to the place in his heart where Glorfindel’s song sang the sweetest. The brilliance of the brightest star caught his attention and he nodded respectfully to Eärendil as he sailed across the night sky, beseeching the Mariner watch over his betrothed and see him safely returned to the loving arms that awaited him in Imladris. In a moment of whimsy, Erestor imagined the twinkling of the distant point of light to be akin to a wink of an understanding eye, an acknowledgment that even the Valar knew of the love he and the Balrog slayer shared.

“Be safe, be well my love,” he whispered into the still night air before reluctantly stepping back into the bedchamber he and Glorfindel shared. The empty bed held no attraction for the advisor, weary though he was after the long council meeting that had continued well after the evening meal had been served. Aware that the combination of hunger and loneliness was likely to keep him awake all night and knowing he had another equally tedious session scheduled for the morning, Erestor decided the best course of action would be to send for a light meal and relax in a warm bath until the food arrived. Perhaps then slumber would take him.

Without even realising he was doing so, he sprinkled a handful of Glorfindel’s favourite bath herbs rather than his own into the steaming water, and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply of the scent. As he settled into the bath, his body was enveloped by a feeling of warmth reminiscent of the inner glow he experienced whenever his Balrog slayer held him close. Allowing his mind to wander where it willed, Erestor was startled to realise he was slowly drifting into an unnatural reverie. Not wishing to drown, he made to rise, and found to his consternation that his limbs felt very heavy and he was becoming very light headed. With some difficulty he struggled from the bathing pool, dried himself after a fashion and stumbled towards the bed, collapsing heavily onto the side where Glorfindel should be sleeping.

Bearing the tray that was sent from the kitchen Amien knocked politely on the advisor’s door, and smiled with evil content when there was no answer. Opening the door slightly, she called to Erestor and, as she had hoped, received no answer. She entered the chamber in silence and moved stealthily towards the bed. With extreme caution she reached out to lift the stray lock of hair that covered the advisor’s cheek, drawing her hand back in rage as he smiled and mumbled Glorfindel’s name. Quickly regaining her composure, she bent closer so that she could speak softly into the sleeping Noldo’s ear.

“Glorfindel is not here, he is not coming back to you,” she whispered.

“Nay, that is not true,” moaned Erestor, his brow furrowing in distress as he began thrashing about. Amien moved back a pace, and waited to see if he would awaken, but the herbs she had added to Glorfindel’s bathing mixture had the desired effect, and Erestor’s eyes remained glazed in reverie as the book she had found suggested would happen.

It had taken her over a week to find a few of the rare plants that were said to have a very strong effect on Elves, making them both very drowsy as well as highly susceptible to suggestion. It had been exactly the kind of herb Amien needed for her plan to work, and she had been very annoyed when Elrond had inadvertently discovered the plant in her possession. He had promptly insisted it be disposed of immediately, and his new apprentice had innocently promised a very concerned Healer that she would do as he ordered, although not perhaps in the manner he intended. It was unlikely he would have been pleased to find the potent leaves had ended up in Erestor’s bath.

“I am afraid it is, my lord,” she said sweetly. “Do you not recall the note he sent you with his report to Lord Elrond?” Erestor struggled to clear the fog from his mind, but to no avail. He vaguely remembered that when on patrol the seneschal sent regular reports to Elrond, which also invariably included a private message for Erestor. He did recall receiving a brief message from Glorfindel, did he not? An image of the messenger arriving at his office was very indistinct, and he was uncertain what was real and what was not, yet as he felt the rough parchment that Amien placed in his hand, he thought it must have happened.

“Nay…why?” he asked, unable to think clearly in his confused state. Had he his wits about him, the normally astute advisor would have immediately enquired as to the reason for the maiden’s involvement in such a personal matter.

“I believe it is all in the letter,” insisted Amien, relieved to see her words accepted with a sigh of exasperation as Erestor shook his head in a partially successful attempt to focus his eyes. His frustration and distress became even more apparent when fingers that had nimbly opened hundreds of missives in the course of duty now fumbled to unfold the unsealed note. The handwriting was definitely that of his lover and tears fell freely as he finally managed to read the heartbreaking words.

“Erestor,

I have had many nights alone to contemplate our relationship and although I hope we can remain friends, I am no longer in love with you.

I will move back into my own chambers on my return to Imladris.

Please inform Elrond there will be no wedding.

Glorfindel.”


Erestor uttered a single strangled gasp as he lost consciousness and the letter slipped from almost lifeless fingers to drift unnoticed te fle floor. With a belated show of concern, Amien checked to see that the advisor was at least still breathing, and satisfied that her plan was well underway she turned and left the bed chamber, making sure to sprinkle another handful of dried leaves into the embers of the dying fire on her way out.

**************

A closed door or an uninvited entrance was no obstacle for Elrond when it came to his close friends and he knew Erestor would forgive the intrusion.

“Erestor! Wake up!” The irate Lord of Imladris demanded as he stormed into the advisor’s chamber the next day and proceeded to shake the Noldo’s exposed shoulder. He was a little taken aback to learn that Erestor slept in the nude, but then with Glorfindel as a bed partner…well, so be it.

It was well past noon and this was the first opportunity he had to seek out his tardy friend since it had fallen to the Lore Master to conduct the council meeting in Erestor’s unusual absence. He had already asked Lindir to find Erestor and when he had no success, Elladan and Elrohir had been sent to rouse the Noldo who they had finally assumed was not in his chambers.

Erestor made no move and Elrond’s anger turned to concern when he saw how pale his friend’s face had become, and it increased markedly when he took a limp hand in his own and found it to be ice cold. Even though he was totally unaware of his surroundings, Erestor was moaning as if in pain, and his pillow was tear-stained. There was something seriously amiss with the elf and the Healer in Elrond quickly asserted itself. After a quick but thorough examination, Elrond tucked some extra blankets around his friend, and then hurriedly carried him to the healing hall.

The advisor remained unconscious for several days, and only the shallow rise and fall of his chest, or the agonised moans and thrashing about in the throes of his nightmares, indicated that he had not yet stepped on the path to Mandos. Despite his best efforts, Elrond knew it was only a matter of time before Erestor would be lost to the Halls of Waiting, for his condition continued to deteriorate daily.

After several attempts, Elrond was able to rouse the frail advisor long enough to take a small sip of the foul smelling potion that would at least ease the discomfort he was suffering. Erestor coughed reflexively, then after a few moments seemed to relax into sleep but not before he whispered in the most heart rendingly sad voice.

“Please do not leave me, Glorfindel.”

Elrond’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he heard the tearful plea and although he knew that Glorfindel loved Erestor more than life itself, such a mistaken belief certainly explained the Noldo’s condition. As a healer, Elrond had only seen this happen on a few very rare occasions and his own heart filled with sadness as he realised that his friend was fading.

“I have your tea as you requested, my Lord. What ails Lord Erestor?” Amien asked with practiced sincerity as she placed the tray she was carrying on the small table by the door and moved to study the ailing advisor.

“He is fading and there is nothing I can do to prevent it,” replied Elrond.

“Can an elf die of a broken heart?” she asked with detached interest, already knowing full well the answer. For a brief moment Elrond felt a tingle of suspicion in his mind tud turned to eye the young maiden warily.

“It is possible if his grief runs deep, but I will do all that I can to prevent it. I do not believe for a moment that Glorfindel no longer loves Erestor, as seems to be the case.” There was a subtle hint of mistrust in his voice as if he sensed that Amien may have had a part to play in Erestor’s current predicament, but there was no evidence on which to base an accusation. Amien nodded and was about to enquire further about the condition when a commotion at the entrance to the healing hall distracted them both.

“Lord Elrond, come quickly. Lord Glorfindel has beedly dly wounded!”