Half the Distance

Title: Half the Distance
Series: Innocence Stripped Away
Chapter: Six: Something Inside
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: soultornasunder@gmail.com
Website: http://www.hithanaur.net/
Update List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nairn_orchyd/
Beta: Fimbrethiel
Note: //...// indicates words Erestor hears in his head.

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Imladris, Spring, Third Age 2086

Glorfindel walked back to the room he shared with Erestor in a mixture of confusion and frustration. Erestor had said barely half a dozen words to him since he'd returned from dancing with Thranduil. Clearly, Erestor was upset about something, but all attempts to engage him in conversation had failed. He closed the door firmly and when he turned, there was Erestor. Black eyes gleamed in the candlelight, filled with fury, and Glorfindel took an instinctive step back from the proximity of such rage.

"How dare you," Erestor bit out in a voice Glorfindel had never heard come from his spouse's mouth.

He schooled his features into an expression of blank curiosity, even though he had an idea of what affront Erestor accused him. "How dare I what, Erestor?"

Erestor tugged at the formal robe he wore as if it were a net about him. "How dare you prance off with that fop, leaving me to sit with his muvael like some demented governess!" he replied and yanked hard on the thick fabric.

Glorfindel cringed as he heard the expensive cloth rip under Erestor's harsh grip. "Thranduil is hardly a fop, and it would have been disrespectful to decline his invitation to dance," he said blandly as he kicked off his thigh-high boots. He had worn them because Erestor usually gazed at him with smoking desire, but tonight there had not been anything resembling desire in his lover's eyes.

"And yet you disrespect me without a second thought." Erestor stood in his boots and leggings, the tattered remains of his burgundy robe at his feet.

"In what way have I disrespected you?" Glorfindel asked as he crossed his arms, feeling a coldness seep through his veins.

Erestor's own demeanour changed instantly. The fury was turned off as if it were a faucet, only to be replaced by a self-righteous distance. "You knew I did not want you to be so friendly with the King. I may not have said it in words, but you knew. You acted counter to my wishes, and that is disrespect."

There were times recently when Erestor's logic astounded Glorfindel. He could only gape at the dark Elf for several moments, wondering if he was serious. When Erestor did not speak again, when no laughter or change in his stance came, Glorfindel knew Erestor had the situation justified and worked out in his own mind. "That is not disrespect," Glorfindel finally replied. "It is disobeying, perhaps, but certainly not disrespect!"

"They are the same thing," Erestor said with a shrug.

"Oh, no, they are not!" Glorfindel shot back. He could not *believe* the conversation they were having. Glorfindel felt his own anger rising, spurred by Erestor's matter-of-fact attitude. "If I learned anything from Elrond all those years ago, Erestor, it is that they are not. You may be my Master within these walls -- and I do emphasize the 'may' -- but outside, I am my own Elf. When the collar binds my neck, I obey every command you issue, but I am under no such obligation without your collar upon my flesh.

"I respect you, Erestor, as much as I ever have. I obey you without question when I kneel before you. But you must understand," he said with a sharp edge of conviction to his tone, "I choose with whom I will speak, with whom I will keep company, and by the Valar, with whom I will dance."

Before Erestor could reply, Glorfindel grabbed the light boots he kept beside the door for walking about the house. "I think it is best if we spend this night apart," he said, his voice hard. "I do not want to speak with you any longer." Glorfindel jerked the door open, but he stayed his hand when closing it. Though his anger screamed for him to slam the door, he had more sense and dignity than to alert the entire floor -- Thranduil included -- to his marital troubles.

Tonight he would spend in the barracks, as he had so many nights in his past. His heart grieved at the parting, but he could not allow Erestor to dominate his every move. They had tried that once before, and it had almost cost them his very life.

They could not afford to repeat the same mistake.

*****

When he could no longer hear Glorfindel's footfalls, Erestor let out a savage scream. The sound echoed through his rooms, and only as a minor afterthought did he hope no one had heard. 'Damn him,' he thought as he snatched up the rags that were once his best robes. 'Damn him, damn him, damn him!'

Who he was damning, Thranduil or Glorfindel, he couldn't quite say.

//You know whom you are damning, and it is not the Mirkwood King.//

"Shut up!" Erestor hollered at the voice. Around him, the candles guttered in an invisible breeze, the oil lamps dimmed in the wake of the force that spoke to him.

//You cannot shut me up, dear one. Never. You have given me life, and I am not going to give it up easily.//

"I gave you nothing," Erestor hissed. "Go away."

//Oh, but then you might become lonely. You have chased away the only Elf who was willing to overlook your eccentricities.//

Erestor tossed the robe into the waste bin near the door, his head aching, and feeling as if it was full of down. "I am not eccentric."

You are talking to a voice only you can hear. //Aye, you are right. You are not eccentric. You are insane.//

The voice was louder, stronger, and shadows danced along the walls and lengthened in the far corners of the room. "I am not insane," he said softly, trying to reassure himself.

//Hmm,// the voice mused. //Erestor. You are carrying on a conversation with no one but yourself present. What do you call that?//

Erestor could not tell the voice what he called that, because had anyone else asked, he would have to admit it sounded like insanity. "Go. Away."

//I am not done with you. Did you think I would go away just because I died? No, Erestor. I am here, inside you, forever part of you. I will be going nowhere, because you are *mine*. You drive Glorfindel away because you fear him. You fear him learning your secrets. Yes,// it crooned, //*those* secrets. The ones not even your glorious Elrond knows. My secrets. Our secrets.//

"You are not him," Erestor whispered in a trembling voice. "He is dead. Dead. Deaddeaddeaddeaddead!" he nearly sobbed.

//I am right here, beloved. Always right here.//

Erestor closed his eyes, willed the voice away. He counted to ten in Quenya, then Sindarin. When he opened his eyes, the candles were bright and the lamps glowed steadily. Erestor finished undressing and crawled into bed, satisfied that whatever was happening was all due to the recent stress in his life. All he needed was rest and to reconcile with Glorfindel -- and for Thranduil to return to his shadowed wood. That was all. No insanity, no ghosts; there was nothing in the dark that should frighten him.

Still... he left the lamps burning throughout the night.

TBC...