Deny Me Not

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

Deny Me Not.

Chapter 7

Although Lord Elrond had made it abundantly clear that her presence was not wanted in the Healing Hall, Amien could not help but return there after she had delivered her message to Celebrían. She had seen wounded Elves before, for orcs had often attacked the border patrols of Lothlorien, but the sight of the seneschal covered in blood had been most distressing. Even more so was the realisation that perhaps the wounds were fatal, and she could not bear the thought of losing the one she loved.

The door to the infirmary was closed and without hesitation Amien reached to open it just enough so that she could peer inside. To her relief, she heard Elrond telling Glorfindel that the injuries were serious but not life threatening and she was just about to enter the room in the hope of being allowed to offer him some comfort when a very angry and upset Celebrían arrived and demanded she move away from the door.

“I do not think your presence is required here, Amien,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“I just wanted to see how Lord Glorfindel was faring, my Lady,” replied the maiden respectfully as she moved aside, mindful of Celebrían’s earlier threat. After some thought she had decided it would not be wise to earn the ire of the Lady Galadriel’s daughter. Celebrían opened the door fully.

“As you can see, all is as well as can be expected,” she said after exchanging a quick glance at Elrond. “Now if you will let me pass, I need to speak urgently with Glorfindel and am certain you have other duties to attend to, do you not?”

“Aye, my Lady,” replied Amien, her eyes blazing with fury at the casual dismissal. She knew that Glorfindel would recover much more rapidly if she would be permitted to perhaps hold his hand or soothe his brow with tender caresses as she whispered words of love. Such a display of affection would certainly cause him to turn to her after Erestor rejected him, as she hoped he would now that he believed Glorfindel did not love him any longer.

The thought of Erestor reminded Amien that she had several hours work to do, drying the plants and herbs she had collected earlier that morning and at a leisurely pace she made her way to the courtyard where the drying racks were to be found. As she passed one of the other healing chambers, she was surprised to hear Glorfindel’s name mentioned and she stopped to listen to the conversation between two of the junior healers.

“As you say, Lord Glorfindel is in the safest of hands with Lord Elrond, but even a powerful Healer such as he will not be able to keep our dear seneschal from Mandos should Lord Erestor travel there,” said one of the elves. Amien’s heart began racing with alarm when she heard those words and a slowly developing feeling of foreboding began to shadow her spirit.

“Aye, that is true and from the air of sorrow that surrounds anyone who visits with him, sadly I feel it will not be long before he passes,” said the other.

“What is it that ails Lord Erestor?” Amien asked as she burst into the chamber, caring not that both elves favoured her with a look of displeasure at her obvious eavesdropping. Improper behaviour meant nothing to the maiden who was unable to contain her curiosity and needed answers.

“He is fading from grief, and even Lord Elrond knows not why,” said the elder of the two with a sad shake of his head.

“That is not precisely true,” argued this friend. “He told me it was the kind of fading due to a broken heart, but it is inconceivable that he and Lord Glorfindel would part. Even if theire foe for each other was not apparent to anyone who saw them together, you can actually feel the strength of their bond when you are near them. You never had a chance of winning our seneschal’s heart, Amien.” He added as he fixed the maiden with a knowing look. Two spots of burning red formed on her cheeks and she glared furiously at the elf who stared back with coldness in his eyes that did not become a healer but spoke of his disgust for the way she had been pursuing another’s lover.

“Nay you did not,” agreed the other in a tone that was most unkind. Until this moment Amien had not realised that her behaviour towards Glorfindel had been noticed, and apparently disapproved of by so many of the inhabitants of Imladris. “The deep love they share is the reason why Lord Glorfindel will willingly join him if Lord Erestor dies,” stated the elder.

This sudden insight was more than she could bear and tears filled Amien’s eyes as she ran blindly from the chamber and the truth she did not wish to face. It had been so easy to simply make Erestor believe Glorfindel had left hnd snd she had never credited the notion that an elf could die of a broken heart, for she had survived hers, had she not? It seemed to the naïve maiden that both Erestod Gld Glorfindel were old enough and wise enough to deal with such a situation. However, the harsh reality was that the consequences of her ill considered action would likely result in the loss of them both.

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The gentle touch of his lover’s fingers on his cheek woke Erestor, and as his eyes slowly focussed he smiled at Glorfindel and offered his lips for a sweet kiss.

“How are you feeling, Erestor?” asked a voice that was not the Balrog slayer’s. The advisor turned to the side to see Elrond standing next to the bed with a cup of water in his hand. Glorfindel propped him up against his uninjured shoulder so that Erestor could take a few sips before answering.

“Very tired and ecstatically happy,” said the advisor as he snuggled closer into Glorfindel’s embrace. The seneschal softly kissed his mate’s hair, a flicker of sadness dimming the brightness in his eyes as oticoticed the normally shining black tresses had become dull as Erestor’s life force had slowly diminished.

“And you, Glorfindel?” Elrond enquired as he reached for the tray holding the clean bandages and assorted salves needed to dress the Balrog slayer’s wounds.

“As ecstatic as my spouse,” he said in a nonchalant manner as if he was simply commenting on the weather. Erestor managed a quiet chuckle as both of Elrond’s eyebrows rose to the top of his forehead.

“Did you say ‘spouse’?” He repeated slowly, forgetting the bandages in light of this unexpected revelation.

“Aye, we decided no t to wait a moment longer and asked the Valar to witness our marriage,” Glorfindel explained as he reached for Erestor’s hand.

“I see. ‘Tis no wonder then that you are both still exhausted,” he teased. Glorfindel laughed merrily but Erestor merely rolled his eyes at the innu.
.

“Not that it is any of your business, but as a Healer you are surely aware that neither of us is in any condition to share anything more than a kiss and an embrace, at least for now,” Erestor stated with a twinkle in his eye at the thought of what was yet to be.

“I take your point, but who is going to tell Celebrían that the wedding she is so eagerly looking forward to is no longer necessary?”

“Glorfindel!” “Erestor!” they said simultaneously, both shaking their heads in the negative.

“Elrond!” s tis time they spoke in unison and their friend held his hands up in defeat. “Very well, I will do the onerous chore, but I do not imagine she will not let the event go by uncelebrated,” he warned cheerfully.

“Speaking of Celebrían, where is that letter she claims I wrote?” Glorfindel asked, bringing the conversation back to the more serious side of the situation. “It must have been very convincing for Erestor to have believed such nonsense.”

Elrond produced the offending note from a pocket in his robe and waited silently while both Erector and Glorfindel studied it closely.

“I can not credit that you believed this, Erestor. Aside from being untrue, I would not use such cold and unfeeling words, in fact I would not even send a letter but deal with problem in person,” said Glorfindel, unable to hide the hurt from his voice.

“I know that, and I can offer no explanation as to why I believed it either, especially since this is not even your handwriting. All I recall is that I had just finished my bath and was feeling extraordinarily light headed. I remember falling onto our bed, and I see scattered remnants of scenes from the nightmare that started when I read this letter, but it is all very vague.”

“It sounds as if someone drugged you, Erestor,” said Elrond frowning with concern. He decided not to comment further, but when he carried the unconscious adviso the the Healing Hall, he remembered smelling a distinctive scent that he could not quite name. He had given it no more thought at the time, but he was now certain he knew the source. This whole matter was developing into something very insidious.

“Well whatever the cause, all I know is that sorry seems such an inadequate word to render the hurt I have caused you, my Balrog slayer. Please forgive me,” he said sorrowfully as his tears fell and he sagged heavily back against Glorfindel’s chest.

“We have already forgiven each other, my love,” the seneschal whispered into his spouse’s hair. “Rest now. You have a long recovery ahead of you yet.” When Erestor failed to answer, Glorfindel looked with alarm at Elrond.

“Fear not, he has simply fallen asleep,” he said reassuringly. “I still need to tend your wounds, but I would rather you held Erestor while he sleeps, your closeness is the best remedy for his healing heart.” Glorfindel nodded his understanding and drew the blankets around them both then spoke the thought that had just occurred. He picked up the letter again and handed it back to Elrond.

“Elrond, this is the parchment I use, but Erestor was correct. This is not my writing although it is certainly a good imitation. I think we need to discover who wrote this note, and possibly drugged Erestor as well. Perhaps you should Galen or one of the other members of Erestor’s staff if they are able to shed some light on the likely culprit. I am suddenly fearful for his safety and I will not leave him alone for a moment.”

“A good idea, for if my suspicions are correct, Galen will indeed know who wrote this,” Elrond said angrily as he took the parchment and strode purposefully out of the chamber.