Silent Flight -Complete

Title: Silent Flight: The Wild Swans
Author: destinial
Part: 8/?
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC17/R
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these elves, the history, Middle-earth, my sons and my soul. No profit was made.
Warning: Besides slash, I don’t think so. Maybe angst but I am seldom capable of it.
Beta: Agie- I'll send over adoption papers, once I convince my husband. *rolls eyes*
Summary: An elvish take of The Wild Swans, a fairy tale that is reminiscent of Celtic lore.


It was a moment of folly, they said, an act of misguided passion and foolish love. A heart consumed by the flames of love had often burnt with its searing fire and elves loved with all their being. Glorfindel would understand once he came around and Salgant would learn to move on - the banishment could only temporary. That was what the good folks of the keep thought.

But jealousy was poisonous. It ate at the core of your being, corroding its strength and rendering it hollow. It acted like termites on an age -old oak, the trunk insidiously tunnelled through. Though to all appearances, the tree might be living as well as ever, it would die a slow death, withering and writhing to ugly death. Jealousy was an ugly emotion that comes unbidden to the unsuspecting elf.

Salgant sat in the corner of the porch, looking at the raging storm. His mood was as dark as the skies and his heart as tempest torn as the weather. One of the cooks, astonished by the banishment had been kind enough to offer him a place to stay, just out of Glorfindel’s eyes, and one of his fellow soldiers had begun to plead his case with the golden lord.

In the silence Salgant had kept since that fateful day, the good folks had read contrition and regret. They left him in his self-imposed isolation, allowing him time to lick his wounds and recover. They did not know that they had left his jealousy to stew in that silence. His resentment grew day by day as the same scene played continuously in his mind, and his resentment fed on his self-pity, a distempered consciousness that decried the injustice performed upon him. The potent swirl of emotions and thoughts became seething anger, well hidden behind his mask of indifferent detachment.

He was mine before that harlot came. He was mine!

The chant in his head grew louder, building into a din, and Salgant covered his ears in reflex. His eyes turned to his travelling pack, and then back at the lighting that threatened to burn the sky – and he remembered his homelessness. Pulling the pack close to him, he curled into the corner and closed his eyes, allowing the darkness to swim over him.
---

Erestor was oblivious to the storm as his quick fingers weaved each strand of nettle flax into place. He was safe from the elements. Fearing that his pendinen would feel cold even under the shelter of the barn, Glorfindel had insisted that he wear a robe over his tunic. Erestor was no longer wearied from his forages for nettle, and his hands and feet did not suffer as much pain as they had before. As he had promised Glorfindel a mere four days before, he allowed the healers to soothe the blisters with the jewelweed salve every now and then. Free to concentrate only with the task at hand, Erestor had made remarkable progress - there was but a tunic left to finish.

Glorfindel had been greatly reluctant to allow him to work through the nights, but Erestor had grown up among nine overprotective brothers. Persuasion was a skill he had long mastered into an art, and Erestor learnt in no time that a desperate plea with tear-filled eyes did wonders. Not even Egalmoth, who was always the first among the brothers to capitulate, for all his cool manner, turned into marshmallow quite as quickly as the golden lord. For three nights in a row, Glorfindel had started the argument by commanding, which changed quickly into a paltry attempt at a staring match and then petered out into a plea. On all three nights he relented.
----

“Why do you even do this to yourself, pendínen?” Glorfindel had groaned, pinching at the headache that loomed between his brows. Erestor turned his attention away from the flax he was twining around his hand and gave Glorfindel a wistful look, wishing that he could answer him. Instead he held the flax and the half finished tunic to his heart, holding on to Glorfindel’s gaze.

Glorfindel only understood that the work was dear to Erestor’s heart and that was nearly all he had to know. “I know it is important, but how long can you possibly go without sleep for? You cannot hope to finish off all the nettles here in weeks!” He was beginning to regret amassing all the nettles he did. His mind did tell him to be more prudent, but he did not pay it any heed.

Erestor shook his head. He had absolutely no inclination to finish all the nettles in the barn - he was already more than thankful that Lindir, Daeron and Duilin were as lean as they were. Raising his hands he showed Glorfindel nine fingers.

“Nine days?!” Glorfindel gaped. He was going to draw a line – nine days without sleep was nothing to any ordinary elf, but his heart’s dearest was so gently fragile and newly recovered. He would not allow it, but before he could protest, Erestor had already shaken his head vehemently. Having no means of telling Glorfindel, he gestured at the tunics and raised nine fingers again.

“Nine tunics?” Glorfindel heaved a sigh of relief when Erestor nodded. That was manageable at the rate that the younger elf worked. “Why nine?” Glorfindel questioned and frowned when Erestor pointed at his heart again. “Are they for someone you love?”

His heart sank a little when Erestor nodded, but he remembered that the tunics were of different sizes and he asked again, “Nine different people?” When Erestor nodded, Glorfindel’s next question was, “Your family?” He had been so distracted by the beautiful elf in his keep that it simply did not occur to him that Erestor would have a family. What family would allow their child to collapse of injuries in the middle of the forest?

Remembering his brothers, Erestor’s smile turned sad and he hung his head picking absentmindedly at the flax after he gave a small nod. His brothers were probably still frantically looking for him, or worse, mourning and despairing over his death. But he could not bring himself to leave the keep just yet. Not when he had the chance to finish making all the tunics. Instead he had managed to ask a swallow staying under the beam of the barn to convey a message with a lock of his hair tied with nettle twine, but with the ceaseless storms raging for days and nights at end, flight was difficult and the message was slow. Not for the first time, he wished his brothers could understand trees.

Glorfindel did not like the way the petite face fell and he sat down beside the silent elf. With his arm hugging the smaller elf close to him, he asked in a quiet tone, “You miss them?” When he felt rather than saw the nod, he smoothed the locks of hair and probed, “Do you all live in the forest?” When he received his answer, he declared, “When the storms clear, I will go with the guards to look for them.”

Erestor glanced up quickly in delight, but he suddenly thought that the soldiers, so used to being huntsmen, would sooner shoot the swans. If he was to tell Glorfindel to seek for nine swans, the lord might not understand the necessity of the nettle tunics and might prevent him from a perceivably ludicrous task. He did not wish the elven lord to think ill of him either. Regretfully he shook his head.

Glorfindel frowned – the mysteries about this elf frustrated him as much as they intrigued. If he missed his family, did it not make sense to let them know where he was and have them come to him? Unless… Glorfindel could hardly bear the thought but he asked, “Do you want to return to them then?”

Erestor nodded instinctively, but his sensitive nature caught the fleeting distress in Glorfindel’s eyes. Putting down the flax, he placed his slightly blistered hands on Glorfindel’s large one, looking at the latter quizzically.

Glorfindel held Erestor’s hands, caressing the fingers gently and avoiding Erestor’s apparent question. Clearing his throat, he whispered, “Do you seek to leave me then?” He continued to look down at the hands he held, unable to bring himself to acknowledge the answer in Erestor’s eyes.

Erestor looked at the golden head and his eyes widened. He had not thought of that - he had only thought of looking for his brothers, but it had not registered in his mind that once he found them and once the charm was broken, he would not be able to stay with Glorfindel any longer. His place had to be by his brother’s side. Yet feeling the warmth that enveloped his fingers and sensing the profound sadness in the other elf, Erestor did not want to leave either. How could he choose between those whom he loved dearly? Was he to leave the keep and go home?

Then he remembered. He had a home no longer. His father could not recognise his sons and his stepmother had banished them. There was then a ray of hope: he simply had to convince Glorfindel and Ecthelion to let them stay around the keep. Thinking of how neither of them had any resistance where his tears were concerned, Erestor beamed.

Glorfindel, unable to bear the suspense, brought himself to face Erestor and felt his heart hurt anew when he saw the beam. He had not thought the other that eager to leave. The hurt was only momentary when that beloved elf shook his head. Suppressing that bludgeoning sense of elation, he clarified, “Do you not wish to go home?” He did want his brothers with him, but Erestor could not convey that so he shook his head and clasped the fingers that stroked his palms.

Glorfindel’s heart did a leap and bringing the small hand to his heart, he whispered, “But you still wish to see them?” When the dark-haired elf nodded, Glorfindel caught the pixie face in his hands and kissed the smooth temple. Touching his nose with the other’s, he promised, “Very well. When you are done with the nine tunics, we will go look for your family together.”

Erestor’s eyes widened and before either of them knew what he was doing, the petite elf dragged those lips down to meet with his own.
----
Elation was an understatement of what Erestor had felt then, and now even just remembering his immediate reaction brought a flush to his cheeks. Thoughts of the golden lord, his light laughter when the kiss ended, his merry eyes and his wonderful ways, suffused Erestor with great warmth; and then recalling his easy victories every night, Erestor snickered to himself. Light heart made light work, whatever the nature of the task.

Nevertheless he had made up his mind to take a rest tonight. He could finish the sleeves quickly enough the next morning, now that the flax was done, and he reckoned that Glorfindel could not possibly have been comfortable sleeping on that couch every night.

His self-appointed guardian had insisted on keeping Erestor company and had moved a couch into the barn. He only desisted from bringing in his entire living room when his horrified butler told him flatly that moving a four-poster bed down the many flights of stairs would result in a revolt on his hands. The butler won the argument because an equally flabbergasted Erestor had stood by his side, with his arms crossed and his head bobbing. An unspoken alliance was forged.

Erestor had charmed the entire household staff, first with his beauty and profound sadness, and then by the happiness he brought to their lord. But over the last few days, when he at last ventured out of his rooms, it was his kind and gentle manners that had endeared him to everyone’s hearts. The healers were captivated by a patient who could smile his shy and apologetic smile despite the immense pain that the nettles must have caused. They were taken aback when Erestor had motioned for one of their healers’ pouches, only to give a small bundle of plantain to the guard standing by the door; but no more surprised than the guard who had not expected the busy elf to notice the rash around his neck caused by itching leather. The cooks had been bought over the moment Erestor convinced a family of mice to move out of the kitchens.

Glorfindel would have been thrilled by the developments if he had not felt that he was beginning to dance to everybody else’s tune. Where he would have preferred to convince the stubborn elf to take a rest, the healers and the maids went out of their way to make it more comfortable for Erestor to continue his work. When he raised his voice by just a notch, he had his own guards frowning at him. It was as good as a revolt!

He stood now by the door, quietly observing the elf intent on his work. The storm was beginning to subside and if his senses did not fool him, it would be clear on the morrow. Storms often brought destruction and mayhem in their wake and ordinarily he would be glad for the worst of the summer storms to tide over. However, just this once, he wished the storms would go on for some time. He knew that his dark haired lover had started on his last tunic, and should the weather be clear tomorrow, he would have to abide by his promise and bring him home for a visit.

Yet his heart feared. Would it just be a visit? He would not be able to deny his pendínen should he choose to stay with his family, and his heart broke a little just from the thought itself.

Erestor had sensed Glorfindel’s presence for quite some time and he wondered absentmindedly why the latter had not approached yet. He hid his smile – the elven lord must be bracing himself for another confrontation! Erestor’s subconscious did a little jig and reel of giggly joy at the thought of surprising Glorfindel, and his jittery nerves wished that Glorfindel would just approach him and ask his nightly question.

Glorfindel continued to mull, his gaze trained on the elf that his heart had found, and he shivered from the dreadful cold whose sharp teeth raked through his entire being at the thought of losing his silent one. He could not find any confidence that Erestor would not leave him for his family – he did not even know his name, his pendínen! – and he feared and he despaired.

In his desperation, Glorfindel came to a solution. He braced himself - he would ask Erestor tonight.