Home's Tale by Haeron

Chapter 2

I should say rather that I did not board the first ship to Valinor, for Elrond had approached Glorfindel and I with a choice; to leave with the main contingent of the people of Imladris or to sail with him and a smaller company, along with a few privileged guests of the hobbit variety. In my heart I wished to leave on that second ship, privacy and well-kept company will be my vices until even the end of all things it seemed, but Glorfindel, my heart, wished to board the first ship. He spoke most earnestly of sailing with his men and his friends and with me and I could not deny him such a wish, even as my own heart misgave me. Elrond clapped us both on the shoulder and made a dry jest about seeing us on the other side. There was marbled dread and excitement aerating from the Lord, and my sympathies I tried to project as best I could without expressing my own anxiety, which was growing exponentially.

The three of us parted ways then, Elrond to make his speeches with Círdan and to prepare for a great voyage of his own and Glorfindel to find a place for us below deck. He brought my hands to his lips and pressed there between my fingers a soft kiss, declaring his protection, his love. It hurt my chest when I returned his smile, perhaps I knew then that things would turn out the way they did -- but I could not have told him, I could not have broken his heart so brazenly.

And there is the great irony, for it is my deception that would hurt him the most.

They left me standing at the Havens, the place of my birth, and I watched their retreating figures until my eyes saw nothing beyond the shapes and figures of elves, all familiar to me, all of whom I looked upon fondly. They were stood in small family groups, some speaking excitedly and others more fatigued. I was distant from them, more so than I had ever been in Imladris where I might gently decline an offer of a drink or a dance. Distance, departure. The very words seemed whispered on the breeze that grew stronger and stronger as though it knew somehow the spectacle that was about to take place.

The boat was a magnificent thing, older than I, certainly, and the scholar in me desired a closer look at the building of it and of its many ropes and sails, such fragile looking things pieced together to create a vessel that would bring the undying to their final home. Should I have felt excited? Undoubtedly, but I did not. I felt dread, I felt a sickness unlike anything I can describe. The grim adrenaline coursed to my extremities as I thought of moving my feet to board the ship, and I knew then as I stood upon the harbour that I would not. The damnable certainty of the thought scared even I.

I am not going to board that boat, said I to myself, and I detested that I might even think so, let alone act upon such! It was no primal fear, you understand, I have no inherent mistrust or dislike of the sea or things of a nautical nature, no, my actions were spurred by a much more abhorrent factor, if no less base, but that will reveal itself in time.

A bell rang somewhere above my head and for a moment I attributed it to my own imagination, the clanging herald of a migraine or some such, but then I saw the movement and I blinked to refocus my eyes; it was the final call. The first ship was about to set sail for the West, and I should be on that ship.

But I could not be.

I could not board.

The towers of Mithlond seemed too tall, the sky seemed to press down upon my shoulders and the floor lurched me higher to meet the crushing ceiling of yellow dawn mingling with powder blue; to press me to nothing. I did not see the worried looks that folk gave me, seeing me glassy eyed and misted, I saw a vision of the future -- no true vision, mind you, only a grotesque thing borne of constant and deliberate repression. The strings of the life I had fought for in Middle-earth come loose, I saw myself alone, utterly and this terrified me beyond words. Elrond would return to his wife, my friends, my colleagues would seek their own homes and families and Glorfindel, well, who indeed would be waiting for him? You might guess. A chill grasped my spine by its middle and the sight of my eyes went hazy around the edges so that the pleasant sky turned turbulent. Would not stepping onto the boat only bring me a step closer to such horrors? I certainly thought so.

The bell rang again, twice and then thrice. The seabirds cried ahead over the shore, competing to be heard in a competition already theirs.

My gut churned as I thought of Glorfindel, alone under the deck waiting for me to seat myself beside him. I tried not to wonder how our next meeting might unfold or how I might explain myself to him, and if at any point I might have been tempted to run aboard the vessel: it was then. But my feet were weighed down with the gold and lead of my guilt and I deemed it already too late when it was not. Oh, I could have avoided it all if I had, for once, deigned to look my terrors in the eyes!

‘Erestor?’ a voice asked, brimming with an innocence that burned me like a hot blade pressed to the skin. I thought about turning away from Elrond as he approached, but he held my gaze and his eyes were wide. My gut turned over and I wished then I had a chair so that my last act on Middle-earth might not be swooning in front of the remaining population.

‘Erestor, my old friend, why are you not aboard the ship?’ he asked and came to stand beside me. He put his hand to my shoulder as if to anchor me to his question and narrowed his eyes as I briefly met them, he drew all he needed from such a brief glance and not for the first time I disliked that sterling talent of his. ‘This is about E-’

My cry of no was more vicious than I had intended, yet it had the desired effect. Elrond removed his hand and stroked his brow and I regretted that I had added to the stress he must already be baring. Regret piled upon regret, this is how I remember my last magical hour in Middle-earth, and this too is a regret, is it not perfect?

‘You must get yourself on the ship, Erestor. Come with me, we will find Glorfindel and together, as a bonded couple, you must depart this plain! You cannot think to leave him to travel this journey alone, surely?’ Elrond asked, as though he could not believe the words he spoke. It was a strange backdrop to a stranger scene; Elrond in Mithlond with the world behind us eternally. Dreamily it jarred me to queasiness.

I could not reply, though I met his gaze and made myself as stony-faced as I might have done in one of our own council sessions. The old mask of mine was fractured. Elrond shook his head and his words became fresh ghosts to haunt me. ‘I cannot board the ship, Elrond.’ I said, my voice was unusual to my own ears.

‘You cannot? Erestor, you must go and meet your future together, you cannot do this thing apart! Do you not see all that you stand to risk if you do not move yourself to him? Do you not understand?’

As earnest was Elrond’s plight, it did no good. I was quite deaf to it all. Glorfindel would not make me feel better and to this sentiment I clung as though it were the stone cold truth. Is he not part of the problem? The core of it? The thought was cruel, my stomach lurched and turned again and I cursed myself for letting venom infiltrate my conscious. No, Glorfindel had been unfairly complicated into it all by my own disturbed machinations, as ever, as always...

I was certain he would be welcomed as a hero upon the shores of Valinor, how could he not be? The favoured son, the reborn, come to greet the Undying. His past life would be assembled there waiting for him to fall back so easily into it, and what elf might resist an offer of such magnitude? Glorfindel of the Golden Flower would be home at last, living amongst those he’d died to save. It was a romantic image, beautiful, but it filled me with a selfish horror.

Gondolin had not been my home. Where would I fit into this new scheme of things?

I see it in your face, you see the ridiculousness of it all and how my mind was racing ahead of itself, rushing off the face of a lofty cliff to plunge into the deep, but I could not stop it. Why my faith in Glorfindel wavered so that I thought he’d allow me to linger behind as he was welcomed back to his kin, I cannot say. But faith, reason, rationality -- they were strangers to me upon the docks of the Havens. I forgot Glorfindel’s kindness and all I knew was my own tumult and the shaking of my hands.

Elrond was waiting for my answer. He saw me look to his eyes and gleaned something from the exchange; a tension, suddenly arising between us. He saw me look at the boat, he saw me swallow and the movement of my throat. The flags were fluttering in the wind, white cloth waving a goodbye. Or a surrender. Elrond said my name and it was a warning and a plea, for his sake and yet not. Board the ship or do not; the ultimatum was upon me fully at last though I had long since made my choice.

I am not boarding the ship.

When I started walking Elrond called my name again and surprise was rife in his voice. Quicker and quicker I strode away from the ship and the gathered crowds, away from the harbour and the water and the Lord running after me. I ran too, and then suddenly it became a chase. Elrond called my name and surprise had given way to frustration., it spurred an equal response and I heard myself shouting back. Elrond graciously ignored my instruction to return to the dock where the waves were lapping at the bay, perhaps Ulmo wanted to say his piece, perhaps he had grown jaded advising the heroes of Middle-earth to their fates and deigned to meddle in the affairs of pitiful councillors.

But the Havens had been my home and I knew the lay of the land and the secret places around the towers and docks better than Elrond, though I did not lose him easily. A dozen sharp turns, a few more backtracks and too many sets of stairs later and I found myself alone. The adrenaline melted away suddenly as contentment to a fellow who remembers he left his door unlocked. The disgust in me was a bile in my throat, my legs could hold me no longer and I sank to the floor in one of the small rooms inside one of the smaller towers. I might have cried, I might have even run back to undo what I had done, what I was doing, I might have felt something.

I only felt nausea. Focusing my eyes on the brickwork, I counted each breath that came shuddering and shallow but they all tasted bitter. Was it real? Had I truly done this thing? It could be described as no less than abandonment.

I was a wretched thing, and retch I did, and though the contents of my stomach threatened to spill; they did not. The still air did not match the pace of the horrors in my head and my eyes saw nothing that was before them in reality. It was rising in my chest again, the panic. Did I pray to the Valar? Perhaps I did, perhaps I prayed to my mother.

For I realised what I had done too late, sat alone in the tower. The bells were ringing and there was a great clamour of voices in which Elrond’s would surely be drowned. The ship was sailing, the elves were departing. Glorfindel was alone, I had left him alone to cross the border of this world and into the next!

My fingers scrabbled at the floor and a terrible cry came forth from my lips, I quietened myself with a hand clapped to my mouth and if anyone had walked into the little room then they would swear they looked upon an unhinged elf; wide-eyed, stricken with dismay that made the flesh pale.

I had thrust Glorfindel into the arms of his past.

When I closed my eyes I saw only darkness and I know not if I fell to some uneasy slumber or if I spent the hours waking and numb, I only know I had not the strength to move myself from the floor -- my strength had sailed along with the ship.

And my heart with it.