PART 10
Arwen stood hesitantly in the doorway, watching the golden-haired lord with worry. She could see the tension in her former tutor’s frame. Putting a bright smile on her face, she knocked softly on the doorframe. Glorfindel’s head snapped up, letting her see dark circles under his eyes. He tried to smile at her, though it looked more like a grimace.
“My lady, what can I do for you?” he said, bowing to her. Arwen frowned. In all her years, she had never needed to announce her presence to the golden warrior. His keen senses were always trained to detect changes in the environment around him. It only showed how distressed he truly was about her father that he had not heard her walking down the hall.
“I wish to speak with you, my lord,” she said demurely.
“Of course, my lady. Won’t you sit down?” he asked politely, ushering her into his office. Arwen sat in the proffered chair while Glorfindel shut the door. Once he was seated, he looked at her quizzically.
“I admit I am worried,” she began, unconsciously smoothing her dress out in imitation of Erestor.
“About your father?” Glorfindel asked gently.
“No, my lord,” she responded.
“Is it your brothers?” he tried again, taking one of her fidgeting hands.
“No, my lord. It is you that worries me,” she said pinning him in place with her eyes. Arwen had learned this trick from her father, who was a master at forcing people to face their feelings. Glorfindel blinked.
“Me, my lady?” he asked in surprise. He tried to give her a reassuring smile. “I assure you there is no need to worry over me. I am quite fine.”
“I do not believe you. It is obvious to me you have not been sleeping.” A muscle in Glorfindel’s cheek twitched, a sign of his discontent with their conversation. It was a sign all three of Elrond’s children had learned to recognize as an indication the blonde might lose his temper.
“I will admit my sleep is off, but that is because your father is ill. Erestor and I must increase our workload so that he can rest in ease. Do not worry. Once my lord is better, I will sleep properly again. Everyone is doing what they can to help our lord recover,” he said with an uneasy smile. Arwen simply stared at the captain, making her doubt in his words clear.
Glorfindel began to fidget. He was reminded of the many times he had stood before his king and princess back in Gondolin. Though many attributed Arwen’s all-seeing gaze to that of her grandmother or father, Glorfindel was sure she had inherited it from her great-grandmother. Idril had also possessed the ability to make him fidget until he told her what she wanted to know.
Arwen also had her father’s patience and determination, which meant they weren’t going anywhere until he gave her some semblance of the truth and a promise to look after himself. Clearing his throat, he got up and nervously filled himself a drink. Arwen declined the beverage when offered, continuing to watch him with sympathetic and worried eyes.
When he was settled in his chair again, she tried again. “I know that you are working very hard, but I do not think that is the lone cause of your sleeplessness. Nor do I think that your short temper is due solely from such lack of sleep. Something troubles you and I wish to help ease your burden.”
“That is most generous, my lady, but I could not trouble you with trifling concerns when you are obviously upset yourself. You should tend to your own hurts.”
“And what hurts would those be, my lord?” she asked softly. Glorfindel looked genuinely surprised.
“Why, your father’s abduction and abuse. I know you grieve for his pain.”
“Indeed, I grieved for his injuries yet I cannot be sad. In these last few days, I have seen father happier than I have seen him for the whole of my life. He simply glows to have his husband returned to him and I find the more I watch them together, the more my heart settles. Their love soothes my own injuries. It brings me joy and I have been sad for too long not to embrace joy when I find it. I wish to share my joy with you.”
Glorfindel looked stunned by her answer, never having considered things from this light. He opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, getting up again and pacing the length of the room. Arwen watched him serenely, waiting for the dam within him to burst.
Finally, the golden captain sat back down. He could not meet her gaze when he spoke. “It shouldn’t have happened,” he whispered.
“What shouldn’t have happened?” Arwen asked cautiously, trying to help Glorfindel open up.
“Your father’s attack,” Glorfindel responded, suddenly feeling listless and useless.
“Why not?” Arwen pressed.
“I should have protected him,” he said quietly, seeming to draw further into himself.
“How?”
“How?” Glorfindel repeated. Suddenly, he shot out of his seat. “What do you mean, how! If I knew that, I would have done it,” he yelled. Arwen looked up at him, trying to radiate calm. She knew his sleeplessness would make his moods fluctuate haphazardly. Without sleep, Glorfindel would only have more time to dwell on his misguided guilt.
“If you do not know how you could have prevented my father’s torment then how can you be so certain there was anything that could have been done?” she asked quietly, trying to appeal to his sense of reason.
Glorfindel ran a shaky hand through his golden hair. “Because Oromë is here. The Valar themselves tasked me with your father’s safety. There would be no need for one of them to come if I had done my job. It is obvious now that they have been watching me; they did not trust me to keep my lord safe.”
“How can you say that?” Arwen demanded, taken aback by the elder elf’s confused thinking. “If that were true, they would have come the moment father was kidnapped. Instead, we waited a week in anguish before my brothers called for father’s husband. And the only reason that Lord Oromë could find father was through their marital bond. I thought that was obvious!”
Arwen resisted the urge to shake the blond when she saw that he still did not believe her. He stared stubbornly at her, holding onto his guilt but she could see he was wavering. Taking a deep breath, she tried once more.
“Glorfindel,” she said softly, moving to stand beside him. She took his large hand in her own delicate ones. “The Valar knew what they were doing. You have served my father without fault for thousands of years. He will have no one but you in charge of his safety and the safety of his children. If anything has caused him to doubt your abilities, it is this unnecessary guilt you stubbornly linger in and your own doubt in your abilities. That is what distresses him and if you truly wish to help him recover quickly, you will shed these insecurities. And don’t even pretend because father will see right through you, you know that.”
Arwen gave the silent warrior’s hand a gently squeeze. She could see her words troubled him. “Please Glorfindel,” she pleaded, looking at him with the same expression she had used as a child, one that he had never been able to say no to. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. Arwen almost smiled, seeing his surrender.
“I will try, my Lady. Please do not worry about me anymore. I understand what you are trying to say.” Hearing this, Arwen did smile and the brilliance of it warmed his heart.
“Thank you, Glorfindel. Will you give me the honor of accompanying me to lunch?” she asked. The golden warrior smiled genuinely.
“It would be my pleasure, my Lady.” He offered her his arm and escorted her to the dining hall.
~~~
Elrond sighed contentedly as he turned a page in his book. He leaned against his husband’s chest reading. The peace of the moment had settled deep into Elrond’s bones and he did not care that he was stuck in the Healing Halls.
Behind him, Oromë lazily stroked the half-elf’s silken hair. Elrond turned his head slightly to look at the Vala’s sparkling eyes. "Are you not bored, my love?" he thought to him. "Would you like something to read?"
“No, dearest. I am more than content,” Oromë purred. He spoke aloud knowing that Elrond liked to hear his voice, to feel it against his ear.
A shiver ran down Elrond’s spine at the sultry rumble of his husband’s deep voice. The Hunter leaned forward, catching Elrond’s lips for a gentle kiss. Elrond closed his eyes, feeling his husband’s love for him vibrate between their connection.
When they parted, Elrond stared into Oromë’s eyes to see they had darkened to a deep emerald. Elrond blushed to be the object of such desire. It seemed like such a long time since he had blushed. Elrond gave his husband another light peck on the lips before resuming his position leaning against the Vala’s expansive chest.
Oromë’s caresses moved to Elrond’s cheek before sliding down to his injured throat. The Vala’s large thumb gently stroked the soft skin above the bandages. Elrond found the gesture very soothing, but he was startled when he felt energy pass between them.
"Can you heal with a touch as I do?" he asked surprised for he had never seen his lover do such a thing. It made sense to Elrond that the Valar should have his healing gift. Oromë chuckled, though Elrond could feel a quiet sadness emanate from him.
“I’m afraid not, my love. You have a very unique gift not even the Valar possess. No one can heal as you do. The world is blessed by your compassion and kindness.”
"Then what are you doing?" Elrond thought, finding the energy flowing through him to be very relaxing.
“I am merely lending you some of my energy. Unlike your healing touch, I cannot command my energy to knit broken flesh and bone, but I can help you heal yourself by giving you enough energy to worry about your family and people without compromising your recovery,” Oromë whispered into Elrond’s ear. The half-elf leaned into his husband’s touch.
"I find it odd that the Valar do not have such a gift. Surely, I received my gift from my maia heritage. And it seems to me that healing would be essential for the Valar to help elves and men."
“Ah, dearest, you forget that when we first saw the One’s creation and heard of his children, we could only imagine joy and peace for you and for us. We did not foresee that one of our number would breed foul creatures thus bringing suffering, weariness and pain to his Father’s children. Nor did we know of the gifts of Men and the suffering of disease and age upon them. I will admit that we were overly naïve and optimistic but at the time, if any healing ability we had, we did not nourish it for we did not think he would have need of such a thing. You, however, were born of that suffering and pain, both for Men and Elves. No doubt you heard the cries of your sisters and brothers from the womb. Perhaps you asked the One for such gifts before your birth, when you were pure and innocent. Or perhaps the One thought it best to give the gifts of healing to the son of the one who brought peace to all kindreds. I do not question the One’s plans but I am grateful He left one such as you to aid those who call for the Valar but we cannot help.”
"But is not Valinor a sanctuary of healing? My brethren depart from these lands in search of such healing. Even my wife left for your aid when I failed her. And the old tales state that the Valar helped to make this world and sought to fix it after the Dark Lord brought it to ruin. Is it so different to heal Elves and Men?" Elrond thought, turning slightly to look his husband in the eye. Oromë chuckled without mirth.
“That you think such healing is easy only reveals to me the ease with which you wield your own gift. It is true that Valinor is a place of healing, but it is healing more in the sense of being restful and peaceful. As the Blessed Lands are so far away from Endor, they do not have the taint of orcs and Sauron’s spirit to bother them. That is mostly what you feel when you travel to Valinor, the absence of the evil you have fought all your life against. Even Men feel this evil in some measure, deep within themselves. To be free of this darkness heals the spirit more completely than anything I know, and it is a testament to your skill that you can achieve the same healing here even with that evil lurking in the ether. But even this takes time. The only difference between healing in Valinor and healing here is that in Valinor it is more likely that the patient will never again suffer such a wound as the one they are healing from. That cannot be said here.
“As for healing the land, you will remember that we failed to heal what was destroyed and instead abandoned Endor for Valinor. Even there, some remnants of the Dark Lord’s treachery remain. It is the Elves more than the Ainur who have healed the land there,” Oromë finished, once again moving his hand to stroke Elrond’s raven hair.
"Oh," Elrond thought, not knowing what else to say to that. He could not believe his healing gift was so special, though he was grateful to have it. Elrond could not abide that any should suffer needlessly.
“Do not think so lowly of yourself, love,” Oromë said, having heard his beloved’s thoughts. “No one could be more worthy of your healing gifts or to bear Vilya than you. Never believe anything different.”
Elrond gave the Vala a slightly disbelieving look, but then closed his eyes and laid his head back against his husband’s broad shoulder. "If you say so, beloved."
Oromë smiled against his husband’s hair, letting Elrond’s languorousness settle upon him as well.
~~~
“What do you think of this one?” Elrohir asked, holding up a forest green leather jerkin.
“It looks fine,” Elladan responded. He reclined on his brother’s bed, looking with exaggerated exasperation at the ceiling. Elrohir threw the aforementioned piece of clothing at his brother. Startled, Elladan sat bolt upright, ready to defend himself and scowled when he saw it was only the jerkin. Elrohir glared right back, though he didn’t stop pacing.
Sighing, Elladan threw the leather jerkin on a pile of other discarded clothing. “Elrohir, you must calm down. You’re meeting Erestor in a half hour. Just pick something. Erestor’s seen you in everything anyway.”
“That’s just it. I want to impress him. How can I do that when he’s seen me in everything?” Elrohir demanded, a slightly panicked look in his eyes.
“Well, it’s too late to have something new made. Why don’t you wear that blue tunic with the silver trim? Last time you wore that, Erestor said you looked good in it. At least you know he likes it.”
“But shouldn’t I wait to wear that for a real date. I mean, to Erestor this is just an ordinary luncheon,” Elrohir fretted. Elladan walked over to Elrohir’s closet and began to rifle through his belongings until he found the blue tunic.
“You may as well wait forever. Why not wear your good tunic today, and while you’re having lunch, I’ll have a few more tunics made for me. Since we’re the same size, no one will know you’re wooing our dear advisor. Okay?” Elladan said as he found the blue tunic and placed it on the bed. He then proceeded to pull out a pair of black pants from his brother’s oak dresser.
Elrohir looked slightly appeased. After a moment’s delay, the younger twin sighed and began to dress.
~~~
A sudden knock at the door pulled Erestor from his reverie. Moving on quiet feet, the advisor went to open the door. He couldn’t quite stop a gasp from leaving his mouth. Elrohir looked stunning, dressed in the silver blue tunic that Erestor had often admired. It was the advisor’s favorite outfit for he thought it brought out the half-elf’s eyes.
“I hope I’m not late,” Elrohir said, his deep voice sending a shiver down Erestor’s spine. It took a moment for Erestor to realize he was gaping like a fish and blocking the door. Pulling himself together, the councilor stepped backward allowing the younger elf in.
“Not at all. The servants just brought lunch. It should still be warm.” Erestor congratulated himself on keeping his voice steady. They walked out onto Erestor’s balcony where lunch was waiting. The advisor made to sit down when the chair was suddenly pulled out for him.
Giving Elrohir a surprised look and hoping that the younger elf didn’t notice the blush staining his high cheeks, Erestor gracefully sat down. Elrohir then casually sat opposite him.
“The cooks have outdone themselves,” Elrohir commented, lifting the lid on his plate to reveal steamed vegetables, pasta smothered in a thick cheese sauce, and roasted mushrooms covered in a thin brown sauce. By each plate was set a small salad. In addition to this, the maids had set out baskets with fresh bread, fruits and tarts for dessert. In the middle of the table sat a large bowl of soup.
“Truly, your father has attracted the best cooks in Middle-earth to Imladris,” Erestor commented. He picked up his bowl, about to ladle the warm soup into it, when Elrohir took it from him and filled it for him.
“Careful, it’s hot,” Elrohir said as he handed the bowl back. The advisor wondered how the half-elf could make something so mundane sound so sexy. He blushed again, but thankfully, Elrohir was now focused on ladling out his own soup.
Busying himself with his meal, Erestor tried to regain his composure. No one had ever been able to unsettle him the way Elrond’s youngest son could. Even as a child, Elrohir need only look at him with his large silver eyes and Erestor was putty. Elladan had never had the same talent.
As Elrohir grew into an adult, his interests were so similar to Erestor’s own that he was often in the advisor’s company. Then he grew into a battle-hardened warrior, gifted with his father’s beauty and wisdom. It seemed inevitable that Erestor should fall in love with him.
Glancing up, Erestor watched as Elrohir swiped his tongue out to lick cheese sauce from his lips leaving them moistened. The advisor quickly looked away. He did not feel right being attracted to his lord’s son. Even though Elrohir was now 2390 years old, Erestor still saw him as a child. Not in the sense of body or mind, for Elrohir had long ago proven he was a capable warrior and diplomat. It was his emotional well being that concerned Erestor.
The last few days only seemed to support Erestor’s beliefs. Elrohir needed someone to turn to when he was confused, frightened, or uncertain about something. Of course, he had his father and his brother, both of whom he was very close to, but Erestor’s late night conversation with the half-elf showed that there were times when they were not enough. Erestor felt that if the young half-elf knew of his desires he would not feel comfortable telling the advisor his problems. He loved Elrohir far too much to burden him in this way. It never occurred to Erestor that a lover would give the same kind of support to his mate, indeed that that was the very office of a husband. But then, the advisor had never had a lover before.
With these sobering thoughts in mind, Erestor felt more in control. Looking up, he found Elrohir watching him curiously. “Well,” the advisor said. “Was there something particular you wished to talk about while we are alone?”
For some reason, Elrohir looked startled by the question. Now it was Erestor’s turn to watch his companion curiously. The half-elf opened his mouth, but then closed it again, reaching for his wine. After taking a deep gulp, he managed to look Erestor in the eye. “Um . . . no, nothing in particular,” he finally said. To Erestor’s confusion, he thought the younger elf sounded a little defeated for a moment, but the advisor must have been mistaken for the next second he wore a large smile. “I just needed a break from Elladan’s constant whining, but I didn’t want to be alone.”
Erestor smiled sadly at hearing this. It made Elrohir sound so young. “You can always come to me for anything,” the elder elf said.
“I know that,” Elrohir said, looking a little uncomfortable. Erestor almost laughed. He was well aware of how embarrassing discussing emotions was for a young male.
“We should finish our meal before it gets cold. It would be a shame for it to be wasted after all the effort the cooks put in to making it,” the councilor said, diplomatically changing the topic.
Elrohir smiled at this, though he seemed a little sad. Concerned, Erestor decided that his former charge was not dealing with all the upheaval in Imladris as well as he had seemed. The advisor determined to keep a closer eye on the young half-elf from now on.
Sighing, he dug into his pasta.
~~~
“You didn’t tell him you were interested in him? That was the whole purpose of the lunch!” Elladan almost yelled, earning him an annoyed glare from his brother. The elder twin had come to drop off the new outfits and to find out how things had gone at lunch.
“There was never a good time to bring it up,” Elrohir said, angrily slamming the clothes into the closet. His brother caught his wrist and pushed him toward the bed to keep him from damaging the new tunics.
“Then you make time,” he said, making a point of gently hanging the clothes up. Elrohir sighed.
“I just want to take things slowly and I want to have some idea about Erestor’s feeling before I tell him mine.”
“Why?” Elladan asked. “You know he loves you. Even if he doesn’t want you as a lover, he’s not going to laugh at you or talk about it behind your back.”
“Thank you! I hadn’t thought of that,” Elrohir said, getting up and beginning to pace. Elladan rolled his eyes. He waited, letting his brother work out some of his energy. Just as the elder half-elf hung the last tunic up, Elrohir sank back onto his bed and sighed.
“I . . . I just don’t think Erestor’s ever thought of me in that way before. I want to give him some time to get used to the idea so it won’t be a total surprise when I tell him I want to . . . well, you know,” Elrohir said quietly. Elladan rolled his eyes again and moved to sit besides his brother. Companionably, he put an arm around his twin.
“Elrohir, unless you tell him what you are doing, he’s not going to ‘get used to the idea’. You’ll just confuse him, possibly worry him. What you have to do is tell him what you intend to do and don’t give him a chance to refuse you. Be persistent,” Elladan counseled. Elrohir ran shaky fingers through his dark hair.
“But what if he doesn’t love me like that? I don’t want to force him into something he doesn’t want.”
“If he doesn’t want you (and he’d be an idiot not to), you’ll know. You’ve always been good at reading people. Trust your instincts. If Erestor’s at all interested, I know he’ll show it. You just have to let yourself believe it,” Elladan said, giving Elrohir a supportive squeeze.
“What do you mean?”
“Elrohir, if you have one failing it’s that you over-think everything. Let’s say you brush Erestor’s hand with your own and he blushes. You’re first reaction will be that he likes you, but then you’ll think perhaps it’s too hot in the room or you were being overly familiar with him or something equally stupid. For once in your life, trust you gut instinct,” Elladan said. He gently pulled his twin’s hair out of his face so he could see his reaction.
Elrohir leaned into his brother’s shoulder. “We’re having lunch again tomorrow. I’ll tell him then.”
“Good,” Elladan said, hugging his twin close. “And remember, whatever happens I’ll be here for you afterwards.” Elrohir looked up at his elder brother feeling heartened by his support.