Battle of the Heart

Chapter 5

The morning brought a glorious sunrise. Glorfindel and his elves set about packing up their supplies once more. He looked over his group of warriors with pride in his eyes, they were a fine group of elves; elves he knew well. He prayed to the Valar that he would lose none, but he was not so arrogant to think this would be so. War; for all its songs, for all the supposed romance of it, was cold, brutal, and struck down its victims without prejudice. Elves, men, orcs, all life forms succumbed to the cold hand of death during war; of this he knew firsthand and shuddered at the memory that threatened to invade his mind. ‘No, not today,’ he told himself. He could not succumb to melancholy or to the fear of death. He had too much to do.

“Lord Glorfindel?” Angion walked up to his captain with confident strides. Angion was under Glorfindel and Lagion: Lagion being the captain who was chosen to stay behind in Imladris with the rest of the Imladrim warriors.

‘Yes lieutenant?” Glorfindel turned to the approaching elf. Angion was young, a mere 347 years old but he was a natural born warrior. He lived and breathed the life of one of the defenders of Imladris. He was a good and dependable elf.

“We seem to be ready to head out, with your word of course, my lord.” Angion said eagerly. For he was eager to war-as were all those who were never involved in one. Oh, Angion had seen his share of skirmishes, killed a few orcs, but this would be different. The battle lust had taken hold of him and Glorfindel was doing all he could to keep his lieutenant’s feet planted firmly on Arda. Glorfindel nodded his answer and headed towards Asfaloth.

“I took the liberty of readying Asfaloth for you my captain, and seeing to his feeding brushing and watering for the morn.” Angion spoke as they headed towards their mounts.

“My thanks,” nodded Glorfindel adding, “I do hope you slept last night?” He teased his lieutenant as he playfully hit the young elf’s arm.

Angion smiled, “Not much, I find my mind will not let me rest, I keep going through our strategies over and over, until I feel I know them as well as I know my name.”

Glorfindel patted Asfaloth lovingly on his neck whilst whispering his thanks to his horse before he gracefully mounted in one smooth, fluid motion. He held his hand high and gestured forward to start the movement of his warriors, whilst Angion also signaled with a high-pitched whistle. Soon they were all moving at a normal pace towards the Ford at Trollshaws, having spent the night in the middle of the Trollshaws forest. They past many ruins of old Dunedain castles along the forest, for it was once inhabited by men. Now the ghosts of men whispered as the wind through the crumbling turrets of time.

Glorfindel and the strategists planned every possible scenario of attack against the Witch King. The group consisted of Elrond, himself, Erestor, Lagion, Angion, Melpomean and various lesser advisors and commanding elves of Imladris. By nightfall this day, they should have reached the ruin of Amon Sul, where they would rest once more. Four hundred miles they wouldst travel before they came upon the fields of Fornost from the outset of Imladris; without any unforeseen exceptions, they expected to arrive within eight days of travel, by means of only nightfall to rest. So far it seemed to progress as anticipated, and for that Glorfindel was most grateful.

Erestor found himself constantly drifting into memories. Every sound, every taste, to every odor he came in contact with during his day, found him catapulted to some link connected with his beloved husband. To Elrond's insistence, and knowing he could not deny his lord and friend, he found himself the next night sitting upon a cushioned window seat in the Hall of Fire. He sat writing in his personal journal, recounting histories of his life in Gondolin. Elrond looked over and sighed, slightly shaking his head. "My love, at least he is not alone brooding in his rooms," whispered Celebrian for her husband's ear only, "leave him to his writings."

"Yes, you are right." He nodded in agreement.

“Of course I am,” Celebrian smirked to her husband who could not help but smile in indulgence.

In a corner near the fire came a loud outburst of, “Ha, ha…I win!” from those playing games of chance.

Erestor glanced up, pausing in his writing as he was immediately drawn back in time….


The Training Yard of the House of The Golden Flower, Gondolin

Erestor was led to the training yard by one of Lord Glorfindel’s servants, a pleasant elf, who oversaw the running of his lord’s household. Erestor marveled at the beauty of the house, for it was light, airy, and not a surface was left without a vase of fresh golden flowers, which leant the house a sweet soft fragrance. He was led through a main hall, which passed the kitchens where smells of roasting meats wafted through the open door. Erestor’s stomach growled, telling him he had neglected to luncheon yet again.

Hearing the telltale clanging of metal upon metal, he reached the archway where he saw Lords Glorfindel and Ecthelion engaged in sparing. Both were clad only in breeches of the softest leather along with boots and sword belts.
Sweat poured from them, as it was a fine spring day, though still there was a hint of winter’s repressed chill to the air. Yet the two sparring did not feel it, quite the contrary.
Ecthelion glanced to the visitor in the archway giving Glorfindel the opening he needed to best his opponent-his blade came within inches of Ecthelion’s neck and as Ecthelion nodded his yielding, Glorfindel, yelled out, “Ha, ha…I win!” and pressed his body against the heaving one of his lover. Whispering into Ecthelion’s ear unheard of by both Erestor and the servant, the dark haired lord laughed and spoke loudly, “Glor,” you seem to have a guest.”

“I do?” Glorfindel queried as he turned to see Advisor Erestor standing in his marbled archway, the afternoon sun turning the raven hair almost a deep midnight blue. Glorfindel’s breath caught in his throat. His pulse sped up more than from the physical exertions he had just partaken in. Erestor wore crimson robes, which looked perfect with his coloring. “Advisor Erestor, welcome to my humble home, how may I be of service to you?” Asked Glorfindel as he walked over to the beautiful advisor.

“Good afternoon Lord Glorfindel, Lord Ecthelion,” nodded Erestor respectfully to both before he spoke of the matter at hand. I have a message from our King; he wishes to see all of his House Lords in the third hour after sunrise tomorrow. A meeting shall be held within our King’s main meeting hall.”

“And you are a messenger now?” goaded Ecthelion to Erestor.

“I was on my way to the shops in the center square, so I offered my services.” Erestor replied simply, undeterred by Ecthelion’s slight teasing.

“Oh, and would you be getting more baubles for your various maidens?” Ecthelion teased on.

“Yes, indeed, very astute of you my lord, now I shall take my leave of you,” Erestor nodded to both lords and turned to leave but not before he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Turning, he stared into the blue eyes of Lord Glorfindel. “Have you need of me, my lord?”

“Yes, please, would you honor us by joining us for lunch, I shall have it served outside, if you have time that is?” asked Glorfindel sweetly to which Ecthelion inwardly cursed.

Erestor’s stomach seemed to answer for him as he felt another pang of hunger within. “Yes, thank you, Lord Glorfindel, I shall be honored to share afternoon meal with you and Lord Ecthelion.” He smiled to both. Oh he should smile more often, thought Glorfindel to himself.

They did indeed feast outside and talked and laughed and Erestor found that he enjoyed the company of the two lords very much so. “Tell us Erestor,” smiled Ecthelion with a wicked glint to his eyes, “Just how many maidens are you keeping company with at this time?”

“Too many my lord,” smiled Erestor whimsically as he shook his head in disbelief of his fortune, “too many.”

“Is there not one who has captured your heart yet counselor?” Asked Ecthelion as he cut another piece of roasted duck on his plate and decided to feed it to Glorfindel, who raised his eyebrow at this display of affection in front of their guest, though he opened his mouth accepting the tasty morsel and the gesture of possession it spoke of.

Erestor averted his eyes and leaned back in his chair, his hunger quelled as he had eaten his fill. “Nay, my lord, none have moved me to propose anything as of yet.” He grinned.

“Please, call us by our given names in private my friend,” Glorfindel smiled whilst refilling all their glasses with wine. Erestor nodded his appreciation of that sentiment.

Erestor could sense the apprehension that Ecthelion put out towards him, as if almost seeing him as a rival for Glorfindel’s affections. “There are so many varieties of the fairer sex, that I feel it is my duty to sample from each available, until I find the one that suits me best.” Erestor smiled into Ecthelion’s eyes to which Glorfindel laughed heartily and Ecthelion seemed to visibly relax at that reply.

“That seems like a lot of work,” sighed Glorfindel as he shook his head still in merriment.

“Tis hardly work friend, tis hardly work, though it is a pleasurable pastime,” teased Erestor to which Ecthelion burst out laughing. Rising at that reply, Erestor nodded to both and graciously thanked them for the wonderful luncheon and company. Thus began a friendship of mutual respect between the three…


“Erestor…Erestor?” His name being called lightly pulled Erestor out of his memory and back into the present.

“Yes my lady?” Erestor stood and nodded to Celebrian.

“I dare say you have not heard a word I have just said to you.” She smiled shaking her head.

“I dare say you are correct as usual, my lady,” he smiled back kindly.

“Would you grace me with a dance?” She lightly touched his arm.

“I would be honored to Celebrian,” he half bowed and held out his arm for her to take, easily guiding her across the floor, for he was a graceful dancer and had much practice during his days of courting females.

TBC