Seen Yet Unseeing

TITLE: Seen Yet Unseeing
AUTHOR: Ezra’s Persian Kitty (ezraspersiankitty@yahoo.com)
PAIRING: Glorfindel/Erestor
SUMMARY: Erestor is so weird.
RATING: NC-17
WARNING: Talk of self-mutilation and disability.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
NOTES: There’s always an implausible aspect to my stories, a little slice of Alternate Universe that begs the reader to set aside canon and rely upon imagination to enter my world on an otherwise far-fetched journey. In other words, liberties have been taken, as always.
DATE WRITTEN: January 7? – January 11, 2004

= = = = =

SEEN YET UNSEEING


“Erestor is so weird.”

Lindir chuckled. He looked askance at Glorfindel as the both of them wandered along the sunlit hall. “Well, that came out of the middle of nowhere,” the minstrel observed. “Why do you say so?”

Suddenly, Glorfindel ceased his steps and looked up and down the hallway, as if fearful of being spied upon. Then, he grasped Lindir’s arm and dragged him into the nearest doorway, shutting the door behind them.

“Wow. Nice storeroom,” Lindir wryly observed. “Too bad I can’t see it.”

“Shut up; I need to talk to you.”

“Glorfindel,” Lindir sighed, the sound of frustration beginning to grow in his voice. “Why are we closed up in a storeroom? You do realize there’s no light in here?”

“I don’t want to be overheard. I’m a little suspicious; Erestor’s been behaving . . . well, oddly.”

Lindir sighed again, this time with resignation. “Since when?”

“Since forever.”

“I never thought I’d hear something so immature from someone your age.”

“You know me better than that,” Glorfindel said offhandedly. Something crashed behind him. “Oops.”

“Okay, Glorfindel. Let’s get this out of your system.”

In the little bit of light that seeped under the door, Lindir could see Glorfindel fussing around with the seemingly random pile of things amassed in the room until he found a bucket, which he turned upside down and sat upon.

Lindir sighed. “I can see this might take awhile.” He found a folded blanket and set it on the rough wood floor, sng cng cross-legged opposite Glorfindel in the small space allotted them. “Now, can you speak?”

Glorfindel nodded; Lindir could barely see him. “It’s something that took me a long time to notice, Lindir, probably because he hides it so well. We’ve worked together for so long, Erestor and I. He’s always at Elrond’s side, whispering in his ear, and I’m on the other side, not so much whispering as shouting more often than not. There was always a connection between Erestor and Elrond that I never understood. I’m sure you see it, too.”

“Yes,” Lindir agreed. “I used to wonder if they used unheard words. It’s no easy feat, but for two so old I thought maybe they used such power. I don’t think so anymore though, the more I watch them. You’re still right about it: they have a connection somehow.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the first things,” Glorfindel said. “One of the first things I noticed, one of the things that isn’t quite right. And then, there’s Saelbeth.”

“What about him?”

“He’s Erestor’s assistant.”

Lindir rolled his eyes, confident the gesture would go unseen. “Yes, and?”

“And it’s like he does absolutely everything for Erestor. He writes down all the notes, he handles all the paperw I I noticed that pretty quick too; Erestor never does paperwork, never picks up a quill.”

“That’s the way it’s always been,” Lindir observed. “Erestor would never be caught dead in the library. He’s always where the action is, keeping an eye on everything, even if he rarely says anything.”

“Yeah!” Glorfindel said, excited. “There’s that thing too. You know.”

“No,” Lindir answered. “I don’t know. Glorfindel, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”“It’“It’s, you know, the thing, that thing Erestor does.”

Lindir sighed.

“Whenever Erestor’s in a crowd,” Glorfindel persisted, “he moves in this sort of spiral around the room. I’ve watched him. He starts at the door and circles the room in smaller rotations until he’s in the middle. He stops to look at every person. Doesn’t say anything; just looks at them, and moves on. It’s like the spiral dance we do at Beltane, only it’s Erestor’s perverted version of it. Every time there’s new people around he does it. Creeps me out.”

“I didn’t know you watched him so often.”

Glorfindel didn’t reply for a moment, and Lindir wondered if he was blushing, but he couldn’t quite see in the darkness. “Well,” Glorfindel blustered a minute. “I don’t. I mean, I didn’t. Not until I got really suspicious.”

“Uh-huh,” Lindir said sardonically.

“It’s true! It all clicked for me this morning. We were in the office. I don’t know what HE was doing there; Erestor’s never in the office, not in the morning when I’m trying to do real work. He only comes to meetings. Even then, Saelbeth takes all the notes. Anyway, he was sitting there this morning when I went in to work and he just sat there looking at me.”

“He does that sometimes,” Lindir chuckled fondly.

“But it’s weird!” Glorfindel argued. “And I’ve always called himit iit in the past. I say something stupid -- you know how I do -- and he looks away. But I decided not to do anything, not to say anything to wha what would happen. And do you know what happened?”

Lindir sighed again. “No. Not a clue. What happened?”

“He kept staring at me. For four hours, Lindir. That’s not normal. And then I couldn’t take it anymore and I tried to give him the training rotation so we could update this month’s schedule; you know it goes about ten times faster when you have two people to call out the names and--”

“Yes,” Lindir interrupted. “And?”

“And he refused, point-blank. He wouldn’t take the papers, wouldn’t look at them. Just stared at me and said, ‘that’s not my job.’”

Lindir laughed again. “He says that a lot.”

“Darn straight he does. Never lifts a finger to help anyone, he doesn’t.”

“Now you know that’s not true.”

“Fine,” Glorfindel agreed, “it’s not true, but honestly, I just don’t get it. He has this uncanny connection with Elrond, like a conspiracy or something. He wants nothing to do with books, a little odd for a Counselor, don’t you think? And he looks at people.”

Lindir stood and opened the door. “Come on, Glorfindel. You sound paranoid the way you’re carrying on. Let’s take a walk.”

Glorfindel sighed and stood from his bucket to trail after the minstrel.

***

They walked for a while in silence down the hall until Lindir led them to the armory. This wasn’t the armory for show, with Gil-galad’s spear and the shards of Narsil and even Elrond’s old sword, but the working armory, where the weapons for use were stored and cared for. There was no one here now; there was no need for weapons in times of peace. Lindir led them to a corner where stood a pair of low stools, simple but sturdy, and several swords in line at the wall with brackets for torches evenly spaced above. The walls were pleasantly dark and it was easy to find comfort in this little niche where Lindir lighted a few torches before lowering himself to the stool.

Glorfindel sat. “I always come here to think.”

“I know,” Lindir said. “It’s a bit more comfortable than a closet.”

“You know I always come here?”

“Erestor isn’t the only one who keeps an eye on people. I’ve spied for Elrond in the past, you know.”

Glorfindel looked up, a twinkle in his sky-blue eyes. “No way!”

“Yeah,” Lindir said with a bit of a blush. “Most people don’t know, but I figure you can keep your mouth shut about the important things. Not that it’s that important. It’s all in the past now.” Seeing Glorfindel’s intense interest, Lindir continued. “It was round about the time Elrond was looking for a land to settle in, a land of his own. I guess when I said ‘spy’ I glorified it a little. I was a good friend of Elrond’s even then -- he helped raise me when my father died -- and it was just sort of my job to keep an ear out. I listened a lot to what people said, what they talked about to me and to each other. A lot like Erestor does now, actually. I was listening for what everyone thought about Elrond abandoning his people to run away and hide. (Elrond was very depressed and self-demoralizing after Gil-galad died.) Fortunately, no one saw it that way, and so he felt content enough to build his home here, and not just for himself, but for anyone. I’m sure you know about the many layers of magic that protect us in Imladris. No one who isn’t supposed to find this valley will ever end up here. But sometimes people who aren’t even looking for it find themselves here. Anyway, that’s a lot more than I intended to say.” Lindir sighed and slouched on the stool. “I guess what I mean is Erestor has a very important job here, more than Chief Counselor. I asked Elrond about it once. All he told me was, ‘Erestor sees more than most.’”

“Erestor sees more than most . . .” Glorfindel mused.

Lindir shrugged. “I don’t really know what he meant. Elrond can be very ambiguous when it serves his purposes.”

“I don’t know why: I always thought you were younger than that,” was what Glorfindel said.

Laughing, Lindir shook his head. “That’s not the point.”

“What is?”

“Everyone has their purpose here. Now, I’m little more than an entertainer, but I love what I do and that’s important. Elrond maintains this realm by multiple means. You have your duties; I’m sure you know quite well what they are and everyone knows you perform them more than admirably. Actually, most people agree that there is not one better suited to play the part of Elrond’s seneschal. And then there’s Erestor, whose true function I’ve only ever guessed at, but I’ve never passed him over as unimportant.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course. I’m a minstrel; we’re always right.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “Now what?”

“Are you asking me or are you asking yourself?”

“What are you asking?” Glorfindel responded.

Lindir laughed. “Okay, never mind. I’ll just say this: I think you need to stop worrying about Erestor, and start asking yourself why you’re so concerned in the first place.” Lindir stood and began to walk away. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Why are minstrels always so perceptive?” Glorfindel hollered after him.

“It comes with the territory,” Lindir replied with an offhand wave. “I’ll see you later.”

***

That night, Glorfindel took Lindir’s advice. Well, first he went to dinner, because he was hungry. And then, he went to his office, because that was tradition. Most days he retreated to the office after dinner, and Elrond and Erestor would join him and the three of them would sit around with their tea or wine and just talk. Well, it’s more accurate to say that Glorfindel sprawled on the rug in front of the fire and Erestor watched as Elrond and Glorfindel talked.

But after that, then Glorfindel went to his chambers. He was very fond of his rooms. When he had first arrived however many thousands of years ago, they had been pretty bare, sparsely furnished and very white. He had set to work right away, painting a mural on the walls: a forest scene with a lot of color, mostly green. He found a blue canopy to hook up to his bed, like the sky, and lots of green throw rugs, thick and dark. They were like grass and almost as comfy as his bed, which he usually put yellow sheets on. He always liked yellow; wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it had been the most prominent color on his standard. But yellow it was, and so he had yellow sheets and a few yellow shirts, and he almost always had yellow ribbon in his hair.

And that night, he carefully built up the fire and threw his clothes in the corner and then sat naked upon the bed, in the center of his mattress. He folded his legs and put his hands on his knees and he closed his eyes. He looked deep into himself until the fire died and the moon set and the sun rose beyond his window.

The sun was rising, casting its glowing golden light through the gauzy yellow curtains, illuminating the skillfully painted mural and green rugs and blue canopy and golden hair.

Glorfindel opened his blue eyes to the morning, and those eyes held an awareness that had been absent when he’d closed them the night before.

“No,” he murmured to himself. “No, it can’t be. Can it? Dammit,” he muttered, rising to his feet and searching his room for his bathrobe. “Dammit.”

***

He had bathed and dressed and found something to eat, all the while in a distracted daze obvious to anyone who cared to look. He was now heading to his offices with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. He opened the door and wasn’t sure this time whether to be surprised that Erestor was there or not. For a moment he just stood, half in the doorway, door half open, staring.

Erestor stared back. His strange black eyes widened at the sight of Glorfindel. Then he spoke. “You look different.”

Glorfindel cocked his head and stepped within, closing the door behind him. “Well, I’ve got on the same clothes I’ve had for years. My hair’s braided like usual.ve gve got my coffee and I still hate mornings. I don’t think I look any different.”

“But you do,” Erestor protested. He stood from his seat, deep sepia robes collecting around his tall, stately form as he rose. “You do look different. What happened last night?”

“Nothing,” Glorfindel answered, finding his voice a little higher than usual. “Nothing. I just, uh, did some thinking.”

Erestor almost smiled. “I see.” And then he left.

Glorfindel stared at the door, finding himself abruptly alone. “Weird,” he said before taking a sip of his coffee and settling himself at his desk.

***

Glorfindel took his lunch in his office. Someone from the kitchens delivered it everyday at half past noon, neat as clockwork. So, when the door opened at half past noon, he didn’t even look up, just sounded his cheerful thank you as the tray was set on the sideboard.

But the door did not open again and Glorfindel sensed someone settling themselves in at the window seat. He turned to see Erestor sitting there in his immaculate robes, indistinct expression firmly fixed on a handsome face. Staring at him.

Glorfindel stared back.

Then he put down his pen and got up. He picked up the tray and then sat on the hearthrug with his lunch and ate. The pheasant was a pleasant surprise.

When he was finished, he returned the shining silver tray and cutlery to the sideboard and took his seat behind the desk again.

He looked at Elrond’s Chief Counselor. “Erestor, what are you doing?”

“Watching you,” he was quick to reply.

“Hmm,” Glorfindel grumbled. “You’ve been doing a lot of that lately.”

“You intrigue me.”

Glorfindel had been about to resume his work, but this caught him off guard and halted his hand half way to his quill. He looked again to Erestor. “What do you mean?”

Erestor shook his head and stood. He moved to sit on the hearth and look at the fireplace, cold this time of day. “Why do you always sit here?”

Glorfindel sat back in his chair, resting his hands on his thighs and regarding Erestor carefully. “When I was a boy, one of my favorite things to do was to listen to my mother tell stories. She would always sit on a low chair by the fire, and I would sit at her feet. Sometimes I would watch her as she spoke, or sit beside her and rest my head against her leg. Those were good times, and I loved the stories. I loved my mother very much and we always sat at the fireplace.”

“I see,” Erestor answered.

“I don’t know why I told you that,” Glorfindel said suddenly. “I’ve never told anyone that, not even Elrond.”

“Why do you think you told me, then?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “I guess because I wanted to.”

“What did Lindir tell you?”

Glorfindel didn’t ask how he knew. “He said Elrond told him, ‘Erestor sees more than most.’”

Erestor laughed. It was an odd sound, and an awkward one. He didn’t sound very happy. “I guess you could say that.”

“What does it mean?”

Erestor shrugged and closed his deep black eyes. “I means that I see more than most, but less than others.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “You are so weird.”

***

“I had a really weird experience today,” Glorfindel told Elrond.

“Oh really? Pray do tell,” Elrond gestured for him to continue.

Glorfindel jumped onto Elrond’s bed while Elrond still stood at the window. Glorfindel told him about Erestor visiting his office at lunch. “And then he opened his eyes agand and just looked at me.”

“I see,” Elrond answered.

“I don’t,” Glorfindel told him. “I don’t have a clue. I thought I knew Erestor, but I don’t really. And now he’s hanging around me like this weird, staring shadow.”

“Why do you think that is?” Elrond asked.

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes and sat up on his knees, staring hard at Elrond. “You know something,” he accused.

“I’d like to think I know more than just one something,” Elrond teased, looking out the window.

“Ha ha. I want to know what’s going on.”

“Well then, I think you’d be much better off asking Erestor yourself, instead of coming to me for answers.”

Glorfindel growled and jumped off the bed. “This isn’t fair. I feel like someone’s pulled the rug out from under me and I landed in some world where nothing makes sense.”

Elrond shook his head and still refused to look at him. But he smiled as he said, “Yet the sun still rises and sets as it always has and always will. The world is no different Glorfindel; you’re just seeing it differently.”

“A lot of help you are,” Glorfindel huffed, stalking toward the door.

“And you’re behaving like a hormonal adolescent,” Elrond accused. “Lindir told me you were acting oddly, but honestly Glorfindel this is ridiculous. Get your head on straight and your mouth in line before you ask any more stupid questions.”

Suitably cowed, Glorfindel fled Elrond’s rooms with a bowed head and heavy heart.

***

Lindir was again walking the halls with Glorfindel. It had become something of a habit for them between lunch and dinner. They would just walk companionably together, sometimes in conversation and sometimes in silence. It was a content friendship, but today Glorfindel was troubled.

“He’s right, isn’t he?” Glorfindel suddenly asked. “I’ve been terribly childish about this whole thing.”

“Well, you have been a little high-strung lately,” Lindir agreed. “More than usual, I mean.”

“Can we go to the armory, Lindir? I want to talk with you.”

Lindir smiled gently. “Lead on.”

***

Again, they went to Glorfindel’s corner and sat on the stools. They sat a long time in silence, and Lindir let the other Elf think through his thoughts before speaking. Lindir thought it was very good practice for him.

“I sat and thought, like you told me to,” Glorfindel told him. “All night long; I didn’t sleep. And I realized something very important.”

Lindir leaned in close and looked carefully into Glorfindel’s deep blue eyes. “You’re in love!”

Somewhat taken aback, Glorfindel asked, “How can you tell?”

“I’d be a poor artist indeed if I could not see love when it is standing right before me. Who is it then?”

Glorfindel answered this question with great difficulty and great hesitation. “Erestor.”

“Really? That’s wonderful.”

“How? How is that wonderful?”

Lindir smiled. “Well, love is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And Erestor could do quite well with someone to love him. And to love back.”

“You think so?” Glorfindel asked, a childlike hopefulness to the question.

“I know so,” Lindir answered with a smile.

***

Elrond responded to the knock at his door, unsurprised to find Glorfindel peering at him with large, blue eyes. “I’m in love with Erestor.”

Stepping back, Elrond gestured him in. “And why are you telling me?” he asked with a long-suffering sigh. “Why don’t you go tell him?”

“Because he has secrets. I need to know why he does the things he does.”

“Such as?” Elrond asked as he led the distracted seneschal to a chair before the softly glowing fireplace.

Glorfindel ignored the chair, instead seating himself at the hearth and looking up at Elrond. “You and he have a magical connection. He never writes anything down. And he looks at people. None of it seems connected, but it’s all very important and I need to know why.”

Elrond sighed. He grumbled a bit as he lowered himself to sit upon the floor, on equal terms with his friend. “I see. You say first of all that Erestor and I have a connection.” Elrond shrugged. “I suppose you are right, but it is really very simple. I trust him and he trusts me. I know his secrets and he knows mine. We’ve been friends a very long time and that in itself is a kind of magic.”

“I wish to know him so well as you do.”

“Better, I reckon,” Elrond offered with a smirk.

Glorfindel didn’t quite blush.

“Last of all,” Elrond continued, “you say that he looks at people. This is true. Erestor has been my extra pair of eyes for many years. He is my Chief Counselor for many reasons. He sees more than most,” Elrond said again, “and I have depended upon him for many things.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Lindir spoke of doing something similar for you once.”

Elrond nodded, smiling. “Lindir is a good Elf, a good friend. Another that I trust, like you and like Erestor.”

“And what of his strange opposition to pen and paper?”

Elrond slumped forward, resting elbows on crossed knees and leaning in to look intently at his friend. “The things I have just told you are no secrets, and that alone is why I told you. I also told you I AM privy to Erestor’s secrets; I have no leave to entrust them to you. That is Erestor’s decision, and should you ever find out, he shall be the one to tell you.”

Glorfindel closed his eyes and licked his lips. He was concentrating. “Thank you, my friend.”

“You are welcome,” Elrond answered. Glorfindel’s eyes remained closed and he heard the swish of Elrond’s robes as the half-Elf rose to his feet. “And now it is your turn to take action. Take your life into your own hands, Glorfindel, like you always tell me you are doing.”

“You think I am worthy to take such action?” Glorfindel needed to know. He opened blue eyes and looked up into compassionate gray ones.

“You have made something of yourself, though why you ever doubted you had to begin with I’ll never know. You are an accomplished Elf and lack little more than manners. You are respected here, though you doubt it, and well-liked, though you see it not.” Elrond reached down and Glorfindel looked warily at the strong, pale hand. The golden Elf grimaced to himself, but gripped the hand and allowed Elrond to help pull him to his feet. Elrond put his hands on his friend’s shoulders and looked deeply into the worried eyes. “You see so little of yourself, Glorfindel, but never think that you are unworthy of any love.”

“What of HIS love?” Glorfindel asked, fraught with hopeless desolation. “I would consider Erestor’s love the greatest gift, but it is true that I do not see myself worthy of it.”

Elrond shook his head and took Glorfindel into his arms. He pressed the back of the golden head close and held him tightly. “What has become of Glorfindel of Gondolin that he finds so little worth in himself?” Elrond asked, unsure whom he was addressing.

“What has become of me?” Glorfindel echoed, weakly wrapping his arms about Elrond’s waist. “War. Time. Death. There seemed no point to life sometimes, and now I wonder at my blessings and wonder if they were worth the adversity.”

“Life is always worth the trouble it takes to live it. Just ask Erestor.” Elrond pulled back, again taking Glorfindel’s shoulders. “Ask him your questions, and tell him your feelings. All will be well.”

“Have you foreseen it?”

Elrond affectionately took a wayward strand of gold hair and tucked it behind a pointing ear. He kissed Glorfindel’s brow and smiled. “I do not need to.”

***

Glorfindel walked down the hall, tall and proud.

He turned the corner and his shoulders began to slump.

He proceeded down the empty corridor and his feet slowed.

He reached the end of the hall and he stopped altogether.

He stood before Erestor’s door and sighed and turned around.

He returned down the corridor, got half way, and stopped.

He spun about again, shaking his head and mumbling to himself. He stalked again to Erestor’s door and raised a fist to knock.

He didn’t knock. He smoothed down his tunic and adjusted his collar. He patted down his hair and straightened his shoulders. He took a deep breath and turned around.

He only got a third of the way down the hall before he again berated himself and returned to Erestor’s lonely door.

Glorfindel silently gave thanks that there was no one about to see him in such a state as he stood before the door, shaking his head and running a nervous hand through the previously immaculate hair. “I can do this,” he whispered to himself. “I can’t do this,” he amended and turned around.

He didn’t even take a step, but forced himself to face Erestor’s door a final time and knock.

Erestor opened the door right away and raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “I wondered if you would make up your mind. Come in, if you like.”

“Yes please,” Glorfindel mumbled, stepping awkwardly within Erestor’s chambers as the Counselor moved aside.

Glorfindel stared around curiously. In some ways, Erestor’s room looked much like Glorfindel’s own had when he’d first arrived. The walls were not only white, but bare of traditional decoration. The bed had plain white flannels and the furniture looked comfortable, though very mismatched with a grossly puffed armchair in faded brown leather opposite a similarly comfortable lounger upholstered in the most horrid shade of orange Glorfindel could ever recall seeing. There were shelves, but no books, and hooks but no pictures. There was no desk and only a single lantern. A surprising collection of musical instruments graced the bookshelves. There were no curtains hung on the windows that overlooked the forest. They were open to the early evening and a gentle summer breeze and failing sunlight infiltrated the room. But perhaps most shocking of all, in place of other decoration there were multitudes of potted plants, filling the room with greenery and softly colored flowers and the gentlest of perfumes, like the most subtle incense. “Thank you,” Glorfindel said. “I did . . . I wanted to come in and talk to you.”

“Shall we sit?” Erestor asked, casting an elegant gesture toward the oddly matched pair of chairs.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Glorfindel nodded nervously and shuffled over to the hearth.

Erestor immediately took the leather monstrosity, so Glorfindel settled himself in the orange lounger. If nothing else, it was incredibly comfortable. “So?” asked the Counselor, his black eyes focused intensely on Glorfindel.

“So what?” he answered, oblivious.

“You wanted to talk to me,” Erestor gently prompted. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

“Oh yes!” Glorfindel agreed. “That’s right.”

“About what?”

“Well, I wanted to . . . I was hoping . . . I’m not very good at this,” Glorfindel said.

“Good at what?” Erestor asked, honestly curious as his head quirked to the side.

“Throwing caution to the wind,” Glorfindel admitted. He slid to his knees on the hearth before Erestor and took the Counselor’s hand in his. Erestor’s hand was warm and smooth and gently tapered. Glorfindel looked up with panicked eyes. “I love you, Erestor. I think I have loved you for a very long time, but in my blindnesdid did not notice it. Until now.” Glorfindel let out a shuddering sigh and he bowed his head, finding it easier to look at Erestor’s slippered feet than Erestor’s mysterious black eyes. “I guess I don’t really know that much about you, despite the seeming lifetime we’ve spent together here. But I’d like to know you a lot better, and find out all the things I don’t know . . . like why you never record your own notes and how it is that you can look at someone and know everything about them. I want to know about your family and where you come from and what you’ve done in your life. I want to know why you love Elrond and Imladris as much as I do. I want to know why there are no paintings in your rooms, but a plethora of instruments and plants. I want to know why you’ve been haunting my office and my steps so boldly. I want to--”

Glorfindel’s words died like a hot wind in summer when Erestor’s other hand abruptly stopped his speech with the press of gentle fingers. “All this in good time,” Erestor told him. “As for the last, I have been trailing after you because I love you.” He shrugged and smiled, a lopsided expression that Glorfindel found instantly endearing.

The golden-haired Elf gathered Erestor’s hands in his own and looked up with a worshipful expression and whispered with awe, “Are things so simple?”

“Yes,” Erestor returned. “And no.” He withdrew one of his hands so that he could lay it atop Glorfindel’s and gently stroke his wrist with the pad of his thumb. “I think there is much I need to tell you, much that you want to know, though the telling won’t be easy for me.”

“I do not want to trouble you,” Glorfindel begged.

Erestor’s smile dimmed and he shook his head. “You should not be on your knees before me, Glorfindel. I am no god, nor prophet nor saint.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “You are all of these to me.” Erestor modestly blushed as Glorfindel rose to his feet, pulling Erestor up with him.

Erestor let himself be led as Glorfindel kept his hand and guided him to the bed. Glorfindel let their hands part and then crawled across the bed to sit cross-legged on the other side and look up expectantly.

Erestor stared.

Glorfindel patted the mattress.

Sighing, Erestor carefully gathered his robes and sat himself upon the bed. He also crossed his legs and sat facing the seneschal. Their knees almost touched. “I don’t know where to start,” Erestor told him.

“The beginning is always best,” Glorfindel suggested.

“I suppose.” With a small laugh, Erestor agreed. “Then at the beginning I shall start.” Glorfindel closed his eyes and listened to Erestor’s words, picturing every detail in his mind. “I was born in Lindon to a family of good standing, close to the king. I revered Gil-galad as an idol when I was young, and Elrond was my tutor. I learned the art of warfare, as befitted my station, and the art of music, as befitted my passion. But I was trained as a scholar, as suited my temperament. It was not difficult as there was little I liked better then crawling under the library table with my books. I was Elrond’s assistant long before I was his Chief Counselor.” Erestor closed his eyes and bowed his head, remembering. “Life was good. I’m sure you’ve heard the expression. ‘There’s no day--”

“‘--Like a day in Lindon,’” Glorfindel said with him. “Yes.”

“It’s true. The days in Lindon were beautiful and fair and full of a goodness and richness that I have never again found in any land I’ve ever seen. But then war came, and my old life was finished. I followed my King into battle. I followed my friend. Gil-galad and Elrond led the Elven troops in the Battle of the Last Alliance. And I went with them. I didn’t know it at the time, but I would never again call Lindon home. However, they did not want me at their side on the battlefield. It was true that I had never seen battle and my skill was untested. They cared too much for me, even if I was of better use elsewhere. And so they gave me a different task.”

Erestor let out a heavy sigh and Glorfindel asked, “What was your task?”

“At first, I remained behind. All along as we had made the journey and collected soldiers from the Greenwood and Lothlorien and so on, it had been my duty to arrange the tents and keep everything in order. I kept everyone fed and spent my time organizing the healers. It whe hhe healers who I remained behind with when we marched on Dagorlad Plain. During the battle, I never journeyed beyond the Black Gate. I had other functions. I had done my duty on the long journey to Mordor. I had talked to every soldier. I knew every face and every name of every Elf who followed Gil-galad in those days of war.”

When Erestor stopped, Glorfindel did not know why. “What are you saying?”

“I was the Record Taker,” Erestor told him in a choked voice. “When they brought back the first injured, I made a record of it. When they brought back the first dead, I made a record of it. I organized the piles of bodies. I wrote down the names. I saw every lifeless face and mutilated corpse. I followed the path of battle. The flowering grasslands they covered left a field of bodies in their wake. I walked that field alone, but I was counting bodies, not flowers. I carried my papers and pencil. I turned over the body of every Elf and saw their face and wrote down their name.

“The fighting went on for weeks, and I tailed the soldiers. We all felt the moment the battle was ended. We knew it in our hearts when Sauron was defeated and the sun showed itself again. That day Elrond came to me. I had not seen him for fifteen days. He was covered in soot and blood and grime, and I looked little better. We embraced and we cried together when he told me of the fall of the King. I allowed myself less than an hour of mourning. Elrond went to his tent to sleep. I don’t know how long it had been since he slept. That was when my true wbegabegan. That was when I passed through the Black Gate and measured my steps by how many bodies I passed. Elves and Men walked with me and we counted our dead. Still, I was the one who made the records. I saw every face and wrote down every name.

“Then we went out to Dagorlad Plain. The Men and Elves mourned as one, but they all looked to me to arrange the burials. The orcs we piled in pits and burned. But every man and every Elf lay in his own grave. No Elf’s grave went unmarked; I made sure of that. We carved bits of stone, wood, shields, and armor, whatever we could find. Every grave had a name. I made certain of that. I oversaw the burial of 3,465 Men and 2,598 Elves, five of whom were close family. There were more dead. There were bodies that were never recovered of course. Gil-galad himself had been torn to bits. The only part of him that was brought back was his spear, carried by Elrond himself. It took a little more work on my part to take stock of the living and the dead and figure out who was left over. Who had died but left nothing behind to be buried. I wrote down their names too. My father was one of those names.

“What had been a field of flowers when we arrived was a field of graves when we left. I made sure to bury each one. And that war -- all that carnage and the death -- that was the easy part. Then we went back to Lindon.”

Erestor trembled and wiped at the tears that glistened on his pale cheeks. “I had my lists. And I made copies. To an Elf of Mirkwood I gave the list of the dead for his country. The same for Harlond and Hollin and all the rest. The list of Lindon’s dead I kept for myself. And when we arrived . . . I remember. Elrond led us and we followed, less than a third of those who had departed nearly a year before. And my job was not finished. It was my duty. I took my list. And these weren’t Elves I had met on the road or round a rough campfire. These were Elves I’d known most of my life, who I’d grown up with and respected and known. It was my duty to go to their homes and tell their families. I must have said it over seven hundred times. Seven hundred and seventy-three times, I remember. I still remember every one. It was my duty to tell them. ‘Your husband is dead. Your father is dead. Your brother, your son, your uncle, your cousin.’ Every name had a family, and to every family I brought grief. My coming was as the coming of Mandos and when I walked the path to a house, they dropped to their knees before the words could fall from my lips. I saw their misery, Glorfindel. And it was far worse than the long-buried souls who had hurried to their deaths on the fields of Mordor and the rise of Mount Doom leaving their bodies behind them. These were living people standing before me, their eyes full of more sorrow than I could bear, mirrored in my eyes. The last woman I went to. She was with child. She was alone. And it was my duty to tell her that her husband, her brother, and her father had died.” Erestor shook his head. “I saw the great magnitude of her agony as I had seen so many others’ including my mother’s, as I had seen so much death.

“I was mad with grief when I returned to my room and put down my list. I had lost my sanity in those moments, remembering the horrors I had witnessed and the depth that Elven despair could descend to. I collapsed in my room, howling with misery. I remember none of it. Later, it was Elrond who told me what had happened. Our rooms were close together in the palace and he heard my screams and ran to my door. I had locked it. He broke his hand, punching through the door to open it. He reached me first and he had to restrain me the best he could with one hand.”

Erestor looked now at his own hands, pale and shaking before him. “I had clawed at my own face. I had tried to tear my eyes from their sockets. The red blood ran and covered everything.”

Erestor’s tears fell onto his robes and Glorfindel grasped his shivering hands. “Consciousness left me. When I opened my eyes again, I did not see. Not the way I had before. There was not shape, nor light, nor color the way I had known them before. Elrond stood over me, asking me if I could see. I knew it was him; I could see him. But not the way I saw before. I saw no half-Elven features with sea gray eyes or shining black hair. I saw his spirit, pure and whole and true. I saw the room around me, but not the way I had before. I saw its construction in flaring waves of energy rather than the static design of before. To some degree, I was blind. Words on a page are impossible for me to discern. I can see if a book has been loved, or what the scribe felt as he copied it, but I cannot read, and my writing -- as you can imagine -- is very poor. I did not know what to make of what I had become. Elrond had attempted to return to me my sight, but my eyes had been damaged beyond even Elven repair. I know not what magic he drew upon to affect me thusly. But this is what I became. Later, I found my home in Elrond’s court in Imladris. I was quite an asset to him. You must understand, I do not see a person’s features. I see a person’s worth. I see not the content of their thoughts, but the intent behind them. I see not the airs that they put on but the truth of their emotion. None can lie to me, and so none can lie to Elrond. I see not the physical makeup of the body, but the spiritual compound of the soul.”

Erestor released one of his hands and reached for Glorfindel’s face, but he could not bring himself to touch the other Elf’s wondering features. “I cannot see your sky-blue eyes, though I’ve heard tell of them in song and legend. I cannot see your golden hair, though I’ve felt it brush past my face on windy days, soft and warm. I cannot see your stately nose, nor high cheeks blushed with pink, nor full lips like unfurled roses in Spring. Though I have heard tell of these things, I see none of them. I have only ever seen the most brilliant spirit, a soul beautiful beyond comprehension and brighter than my worth. A heart so pure and gallant. I see before me a vibrant spirit, and I have watched your turmoil these past weeks; your confusion and suspicion was plain for me to see, for none can lie to me. My eyes see all. I have seen your love and wondered at it, but since your soul cannot lie, I believe it, and all this time I have simply watched your radiance, fearing that it would blind me anew. And I waited for you to come to me, if you would.”

Glorfindel could barely stand the sorrow and wonder and surety of Erestor’s voice. He reached up and pressed that hovering hand until it lay aside his cheek. He remained perfectly motionless as Erestor’s gentle fingers wandered his face and discovered the lay of his features.

“You are more beautiful than words can say,” Erestor promised him. “You are a shining spirit.”

“I will be your shining spirit,” Glorfindel answered in a whisper. “If you’ll have me.”

“I would have you, now and forever,” Erestor whimpered, his hand sliding round to massage the back of Glorfindel’s neck. “I would have you at my side. I would have you with me always.”

“Then you have me,” Glorfindel promised, and since it seemed Erestor would take no action, Glorfindel leaned in to brush their lips together, light as the sudden kiss of a melting snowflake.

The golden Elf pulled back and Erestor breathlessly asked, “What was that?”

Glorfindel blinked. “That was a kiss.”

“No it wasn’t,” Erestor insisted as he pulled Glorfindel forward. “But this is.” Erestor dictated the mating of their mouths, with one hand still clamped around Glorfindel’s neck and the other pulling at the seneschal’s tunic. Their heads bent and their lips met and Erestor took control, mashing his lips against Glorfindel’s and demanding entreaty with his tongue.

Glorfindel at once acceded and opened his mouth to the welcome invasion, winding his own hands in Erestor’s lustrous midnight mane.

They surged together like waves in the ocean and wound one another in a tight embrace. Their legs tangled in Erestor’s robes as he laid Glorfindel back against the pillows, cradling his golden head in pale, long-fingered hands. Erestor reveled in running his fingers through that long, smooth hair.

Glorfindel shifted his grip, running eager hands along the length of Erestor’s back. He gripped at lithely built shoulders and lean muscles and then further down past the small of his back.

Erestor made a rumbling noise in the back of his throat and broke the contact of their mouths to draw a line of kisses along Glorfindel’s st jaw jaw. He suckled the lower lobe of Glorfindel’s ear and inched his way up to the point, coaxing the most fascinating moans from Glorfindel’s elegantly arched throat. “I want to touch you all over,” Erestor purred into that abused ear.

Glorfindel released a choked whimper and began tugging viciously at his own clothes, eager to bare himself to curious hands and questing lips.

Delighting at the heated expanse of revealed skin, Erestor covered every inch of it with the soft pads of his fingers in curious exploration. Gentle touches chased after the curve of Glorfindel’s neck and the dip of his collar, skipped along toned shoulders and treaded lightly on the golden skin of his torso to teasingly circle a puckered nipple. Erestor pursued with his lips the path his fingers had discovered, leaving behind a wet trail of kisses. “You must be made of honey,” Erestor hummed before gracing the prominent bud on the golden chest with an openmouthed kiss.

Glorfindel attempted a response, but managed only a guttural groan. Then the golden Elf wriggled out of his pants and kicked off his boots. Erestor helped smooth the shirt down his strong arms until he lay naked upon the white bedspread. But he did not lay helpless as clever fingers stole into Erestor’s voluminous robes, creeping between buttons to sete tte them from their holes and sneaking around leather points to free the laces until Erestor shrugged his shoulders and his clothes slid off him like wet snow from the trees in early spring. Glorfindel’s fervent eagerness was almost clumsy as he enthusiastically threw his arms around Erestor and tugged the slender body flush on top of his own.

“Isn’t this too fast?” Erestor wondered as their aroused organs rubbed between their smooth bellies and he brushed his hand through Glorfindel’s hair.

But the golden Elf protested, in breathless little pants, “No, no. It’s just perfect.” He smiled as he spoke and to Erestor, there was no sight more beautiful than Glorfindel happy and eager in hissionsion and in his love. “Just move with me,” Glorfindel begged, his hands wandering Erestor’s lean body to linger at his hips and guide a slowly demanding rhythm.

“I’ll always move with you,” Erestor promised with a kiss to Glorfindel’s ripened lips, reaching down between them to take both hard, slick shafts in hand.

They breathed hard and moved hard. The bed rocked and their voices were rough. Their bodies moved as one and their souls sang in conce And And they were beautiful.

They both cried out then in the golden hour before sunset, and found together the pure joy of writhing bodies joined in passion and the ecstatic euphoria of two hearts joined in love. Their bodies mated as their souls entwined until an explosion of both passion and love erupted between them. Their bodies released and their souls were bound.

That wasn’t always the way of things between Elves, but it was for Erestor and Glorfindel, as they could have taken no other path even if they had desired it.

***

Erestor allowed himself enough thought to shift his weight so that he only lay half atop Glorfindel’s panting body when he momentarily collapsed, an arm and a leg slung affectionately over the golden form. Glorfindel turned to face Erestor’s amazing black eyes. He kissed the tip of the Counselor’s nose and offered up a lazy grin. Erestor’s expression was slightly more serious. “I never want to stop touching you,” Erestor promised, his hand caressing the sticky belly beside him.

“Okay by me,” Glorfindel purred, licking his lips and grinning.

“You seem very proud of yourself,” Erestor observed.

Glorfindel’s curiosity was instantly aroused. “You can see that in my soul?”

“Yeah,” Erestor admitted, somewhat shyly.

“How?” Glorfindel asked. “How do you see it?”

Erestor grinned and Glorfindel was again graced with the sight of that lop-sided smile. Erestor murmured, “This is going to be interesting, isn’t it?”

“What ‘this?’”

“Us.”

“Oh yes, very interesting,” Glorfindel readily agreed, kissing the tempting mouth, a blinking eye, a pointed ear. “So. How do you see me?”

Erestor sighed heavily and brushed his fingers alongside Glorfindel’s wondering face. “Close your eyes,” he instructed.

Glorfindel did so.

Erestor also closed his odd black eyes as his soft murmur caressed Glorfindel’s skin. “The first time I saw you was in the garden. Maybe you remember. You had just arrived; it was around the time of Arwen’s birth, and Lindir was showing you the lands. I saw Lindir coming and you were beside him. At first all I could discern amongst the flowering lively streams of plant th ath and Lindir’s silvery rainbow essence was a shining golden fountain bright and beautiful. For a moment I thought Arien herself had condescended to walk in Imladris’ gardens. But you drew closer and I saw strestreak of blue at your center, a line of shimmering sincerity and self-honesty surrounded by a suffusion of pink waves radiating out from you like overflowing surges of love: unconditional and simple and strong love for the world and for everything around you, except maybe yourself. Your humor vibrated like a green shadow at your feet, sneaking out to encompass those around you. Your gestures were fluid energy that sparked in never-before-seen embers and your expressions were a subtle dance of quirky jumbling colors. Your spirit shines white and pours from you like a pitcher that never runs empty. But your heart is your core, a resounding pulse of silver life that echoes out in endless rivulets across your form. The gossamer net of that silver heart ensnared me long ago.” Erestor kissed open the bright blue eyes and regarded them with deepest black, even if he didn’t see what Glorfindel did in the mirror. “That is how I see you.”

Glorfindel managed to whisper a little, “Wow.”

***

The end.