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Not alone, never alone.
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,710
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,710
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Not alone, never alone.
Title: Not alone, never alone.
Author: Fishy(fishyz9@yahoo.com)
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Beta: Kei.
Notes: AU, could be taken as slash or a friendship fic.
Summary: Glorfindel deals with his past, when abruptly faced with it.
Not alone, never alone.
So private a matter it was that none spoke of it, and all walked in silence when passing by that particular garden. It was something sad and almost sacred in its solemnity. There was no pity felt for him, only concern. Concern for their much loved companion, their merry and compassionate friend, who had fallen into silence as he sat in that garden, lost in quiet memory and mourning.
He had come across it by pure chance, while walking with myself and our Lord as we spoke informally. But then - then he had spotted something that we had not. He had paused in his stride, a look of very deep and personal hurt crossing his features. We looked to where his gaze was fixed, and saw nothing. We grew concerned, but he could no longer hear our voices as he slowly stepped towards a small clearing in the garden that we had been passing through.
We ran to his side upon seeing him fall to his knees, his hands hanging lifeless by his sides. Frowns marred our brows, and Elrond reached out to touch Glorfindel’s shoulder, but then I saw it. I saw what had brought Glorfindel, mighty Captain and warrior, to his knees, and pulled our Lord back by the arm before he could intrude upon our friend in this sudden and now heartbreaking moment.
When Elrond, too, saw the cause, a gasp that matched my own left his lips. A single bloom, long in stem and golden in petal, grew alone in the clearing, reaching for the sun. A Golden flower it is called, not a tulip, magnolia or lily. Neither bluebell, daisy nor rosemary, but a Golden flower. So it is called, and so it is.
I had never seen him weep before, and felt tears sting my own eyes upon seeing the small droplets fall from his chin. A shaking hand reached out to touch one of the glittering petals, then suddenly withdrew as if realising it real and not an illusion or cruel memory.
Elrond squeezed his shoulder, before taking me to one side.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “A Golden bloom? They have not budded since their birth place, since Gondolin……!” I whispered rapidly, not wanting Glorfindel to hear me, though I doubt he noted our presence. “What is…I...I don’t…” I stammered in my confusion and anger at having this sudden and unexpected blow delivered to my friend.
“Erestor, stay here, with him. I don’t know how this could be but…it is. I will make sure this garden is sealed off from any others. Stay with him.”
And I did, and have. For a day Glorfindel has sat there, his tears endless in their quiet descent. I sit a little way behind him, so that I will be here when he comes back to himself. Yet he has not done so, and i feel that perhaps he is, for the first time, dealing with an ache that had resided in his heart ever since his fateful fall. The day now grows dark with upcoming dusk and still he sits there, unseeing of all else around him, and lost in his past.
Suddenly he speaks, a small croak of his usually booming voice, laden with sorrow and disinclined purpose.
“I never let myself think of it…of home. Hurts too much.”
“Glorfindel,” I whisper as I come to kneel behind him, wrapping an arm around his front and resting my head upon his shoulder. And I find myself infuriated that I can think of naught else to say to comfort him, who is my dear friend and so much more.
His hand reaches up to touch my arm, which holds him close, and he sniffs. It is a small sound that fills me with relief, as he seems to stir from his lost thoughts and joins me back in this garden.
“Come inside, hmm?” I croon gently. “None will come here, they know not to. Eat, sleep, and it will
still be here on the morrow.”
He nods, and pats my arm before standing. When we are facing one another he looks sadly at me, his chin trembling in a shockingly out-of-character manner.
“Glorfindel,” I whisper again urgently, and pull him forwards into my arms.
He whispers into my hair,
“It is the last one. Do you know why? Do you know why it is alone?”
“Shh, Glorfindel. Do not.”
He draws back, and looks at me with such honesty that I am moved, such frankness striking at my core and drawing all will from me, so that I am rendered motionless when next he speaks.
“Because so, too, am I.”
I find my voice. “No, do not say such things!”
“’Tis true.”
“’Tis false!” I argue. Stepping forward, I gently grasp his face between my hands and speak sternly, but with all the love I feel for my friend. “Not alone, never alone.”
We hold that moment between us, that lock we have on each other, until, finally, he nods and moves out of my reach. We walk beside each other in silence, and I look to him when his hand suddenly grasps my own. He is sad. I see it, I feel it. I feel it as his hand squeezes my own, and I do all that I can do; I squeeze back.
~*~
He looks weary, and I know that he did not sleep last night. He shies away from greeting all in his path, and takes to his own wandering thoughts of things that should have been long forgotten. He sits alone during the breaking meal, and I am glad that all know not to approach our friend this morning.
I stare down at my own plate, and I have never before been so disinterested in food. I look up, however, when sensing another close by, and see Glorfindel standing there, waiting for me. He clears his throat impatiently, not wishing to be the centre of attention, but also not wishing to return to the gardens without me. So he waits, and is clearly relieved when I rise. He quickly leaves the hall, only glancing over his shoulder once to check that I still walk behind him.
Once out in the open, he slows his stride. As I now walk beside him, he again silently reaches for my hand, and squeezes. And once again, I squeeze back.
We walk into the clearing, and I take a deep breath, and wait for his reaction. As yesterday, he suddenly comes to a halt, before stepping closer to what has, once again, rendered him speechless. I watch from behind as he once more falls to his knees, though slowly and gracefully. I watch as he again reaches out to touch soft petals, but this time with a steadier hand, and towards black petals. And, as yesterday, I crouch behind him, looping my arm around his front as he looks on, more with curiosity now, rather than the sadness of yester eve.
There are two flowers now, two flowers alone in the clearing. One golden, glittering with a brilliance as it reaches towards home, towards the son. And one black, newly planted beside its companion in the upturned and fresh soil.
I hear his shuddering breath, and kiss his temple as I feel his tears dampen the arm I have about him. He is smiling, though shakily, and with such gratitude that I wish to plant the entire garden, just for him.
Once again I whisper into his ear,
“Not alone, never alone.”
The End.
Author: Fishy(fishyz9@yahoo.com)
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Beta: Kei.
Notes: AU, could be taken as slash or a friendship fic.
Summary: Glorfindel deals with his past, when abruptly faced with it.
Not alone, never alone.
So private a matter it was that none spoke of it, and all walked in silence when passing by that particular garden. It was something sad and almost sacred in its solemnity. There was no pity felt for him, only concern. Concern for their much loved companion, their merry and compassionate friend, who had fallen into silence as he sat in that garden, lost in quiet memory and mourning.
He had come across it by pure chance, while walking with myself and our Lord as we spoke informally. But then - then he had spotted something that we had not. He had paused in his stride, a look of very deep and personal hurt crossing his features. We looked to where his gaze was fixed, and saw nothing. We grew concerned, but he could no longer hear our voices as he slowly stepped towards a small clearing in the garden that we had been passing through.
We ran to his side upon seeing him fall to his knees, his hands hanging lifeless by his sides. Frowns marred our brows, and Elrond reached out to touch Glorfindel’s shoulder, but then I saw it. I saw what had brought Glorfindel, mighty Captain and warrior, to his knees, and pulled our Lord back by the arm before he could intrude upon our friend in this sudden and now heartbreaking moment.
When Elrond, too, saw the cause, a gasp that matched my own left his lips. A single bloom, long in stem and golden in petal, grew alone in the clearing, reaching for the sun. A Golden flower it is called, not a tulip, magnolia or lily. Neither bluebell, daisy nor rosemary, but a Golden flower. So it is called, and so it is.
I had never seen him weep before, and felt tears sting my own eyes upon seeing the small droplets fall from his chin. A shaking hand reached out to touch one of the glittering petals, then suddenly withdrew as if realising it real and not an illusion or cruel memory.
Elrond squeezed his shoulder, before taking me to one side.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “A Golden bloom? They have not budded since their birth place, since Gondolin……!” I whispered rapidly, not wanting Glorfindel to hear me, though I doubt he noted our presence. “What is…I...I don’t…” I stammered in my confusion and anger at having this sudden and unexpected blow delivered to my friend.
“Erestor, stay here, with him. I don’t know how this could be but…it is. I will make sure this garden is sealed off from any others. Stay with him.”
And I did, and have. For a day Glorfindel has sat there, his tears endless in their quiet descent. I sit a little way behind him, so that I will be here when he comes back to himself. Yet he has not done so, and i feel that perhaps he is, for the first time, dealing with an ache that had resided in his heart ever since his fateful fall. The day now grows dark with upcoming dusk and still he sits there, unseeing of all else around him, and lost in his past.
Suddenly he speaks, a small croak of his usually booming voice, laden with sorrow and disinclined purpose.
“I never let myself think of it…of home. Hurts too much.”
“Glorfindel,” I whisper as I come to kneel behind him, wrapping an arm around his front and resting my head upon his shoulder. And I find myself infuriated that I can think of naught else to say to comfort him, who is my dear friend and so much more.
His hand reaches up to touch my arm, which holds him close, and he sniffs. It is a small sound that fills me with relief, as he seems to stir from his lost thoughts and joins me back in this garden.
“Come inside, hmm?” I croon gently. “None will come here, they know not to. Eat, sleep, and it will
still be here on the morrow.”
He nods, and pats my arm before standing. When we are facing one another he looks sadly at me, his chin trembling in a shockingly out-of-character manner.
“Glorfindel,” I whisper again urgently, and pull him forwards into my arms.
He whispers into my hair,
“It is the last one. Do you know why? Do you know why it is alone?”
“Shh, Glorfindel. Do not.”
He draws back, and looks at me with such honesty that I am moved, such frankness striking at my core and drawing all will from me, so that I am rendered motionless when next he speaks.
“Because so, too, am I.”
I find my voice. “No, do not say such things!”
“’Tis true.”
“’Tis false!” I argue. Stepping forward, I gently grasp his face between my hands and speak sternly, but with all the love I feel for my friend. “Not alone, never alone.”
We hold that moment between us, that lock we have on each other, until, finally, he nods and moves out of my reach. We walk beside each other in silence, and I look to him when his hand suddenly grasps my own. He is sad. I see it, I feel it. I feel it as his hand squeezes my own, and I do all that I can do; I squeeze back.
~*~
He looks weary, and I know that he did not sleep last night. He shies away from greeting all in his path, and takes to his own wandering thoughts of things that should have been long forgotten. He sits alone during the breaking meal, and I am glad that all know not to approach our friend this morning.
I stare down at my own plate, and I have never before been so disinterested in food. I look up, however, when sensing another close by, and see Glorfindel standing there, waiting for me. He clears his throat impatiently, not wishing to be the centre of attention, but also not wishing to return to the gardens without me. So he waits, and is clearly relieved when I rise. He quickly leaves the hall, only glancing over his shoulder once to check that I still walk behind him.
Once out in the open, he slows his stride. As I now walk beside him, he again silently reaches for my hand, and squeezes. And once again, I squeeze back.
We walk into the clearing, and I take a deep breath, and wait for his reaction. As yesterday, he suddenly comes to a halt, before stepping closer to what has, once again, rendered him speechless. I watch from behind as he once more falls to his knees, though slowly and gracefully. I watch as he again reaches out to touch soft petals, but this time with a steadier hand, and towards black petals. And, as yesterday, I crouch behind him, looping my arm around his front as he looks on, more with curiosity now, rather than the sadness of yester eve.
There are two flowers now, two flowers alone in the clearing. One golden, glittering with a brilliance as it reaches towards home, towards the son. And one black, newly planted beside its companion in the upturned and fresh soil.
I hear his shuddering breath, and kiss his temple as I feel his tears dampen the arm I have about him. He is smiling, though shakily, and with such gratitude that I wish to plant the entire garden, just for him.
Once again I whisper into his ear,
“Not alone, never alone.”
The End.