Home's Tale by Haeron

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Chapter 17

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‘Our house should be small than this.’

 

He was stroking long lines up my arm to shoulder and the morning peaked in through the open curtains; and there are no better sensations to be woken to, I tell you this now. It was as pleasant a morning as ever in New Gondolin, but the only one I had ever yet greeted with any amount of joy. I rubbed my eyes, the sun was bright and light and clearly paid no heed to the encroaching autumn that coloured the trees anew.

 

‘Our house?’ asked I, groggily. Any resident of Imladris whoever needed to turn in early morning reports to my door may tell you that I am categorically not a morning person. But for Glorfindel only I make my exceptions (and even then, only sometimes or on special occasions, though Glorfindel may usually find one or two special occasions in each mundane day).

 

‘Ecthelion told me of a small settlement, very small.’ Glorfindel began, as though musing the idea aloud to himself as well asI.I settled against the bareness of his chest and let him carry on his gentle stroking of my arm, listening for my heart urged me bring myself, as best I could, to lucidity. ‘It’s being constructed besides the woods, a few miles north of here, with houses being built even as we speak.’

 

Ah. I smiled, lazily.

 

‘Is there a house for us being built, Glorfindel?’

 

‘If you’d like that,’ he laughed, a soft sound to my poor ears.

 

I thought for a time whether or not I would like that, though my mind was practically decided, already. I thought of the cottage beside the river and of course we could not pack up and return to burden Celebrían and Elrond with our eternal presence, but then there had never been a time when I had lived so far away from the Lord.

 

But the idea of a space for me and Glorfindel, a space that was ours alone to mould to a beautiful dwelling? The thought elated me; it was how our Valinor story had always been intended to end, after all, we had just taken to scenic route to get there.

 

And so I smiled and nodded and splayed out the fingers on the hand I had upon his chest. His skin was smooth though scarred here and there. Would that I could heal each one, thought I as I brushed my fingers delicately over the raised skin.

 

‘We can build a proper home together!’ Glorfindel said, excited as a pup and I felt myself smiling despite the early hour and that ancient siren call of just a few more minutes. When I closed my eyes I heard the leaves in the wind, the chatter of early risers out to buy bread and eggs. ‘We can have a garden, too!’

 

‘With flowers,’ I said. Oh, it was a rather indulgent conversation but I reckoned I owed him more than a few and he did so enjoy them. Do not believe the tales you read in the old tomes of the grimfaced golden Lord moved by doom and death; Glorfindel was, and remains, a creature of tradition and romance and peace most of all.

 

‘Flowers, yes!’ he laughed, bringing my fingers to his lips. ‘Flowers and ravens and all manner of birds.’

 

He went on in such a fashion, naming the colours and sounds we might bring to our homely little garden in the house we didn’t yet have, but it was such a joy to listen to him, for how long had it been since we’d simply lain as thus and spoken of no weighty thing? Too long, but never again.

 

Perhaps it was not the most realistic thought, but at the time it seemed so, and still does, truth be told.

 

I dozed, half-awake, to the sounds of Glorfindel’s daydreams and the morning call of New Gondolin; creaking front doors and clinking milk bottles. We could find a similar peace, I knew it in my heart, though it seemed almost too good to be true! I berated myself for ever picking holes in plans of hope, what will be will be.

 

‘We will make a home for you, Erestor.’ Glorfindel said, more sombrely so I opened my eyes and lifted my head to gaze at the sincerity of his face.

 

He brushed my cheek with the back of his hand.

 

‘Thank you.’ I said, in a small voice choked with love. Oh, I felt as though I ought to have said more or spoken more elaborately, but there was nought else I could rouse to speech. Perhaps I didn’t need to, for Glorfindel’s soft smile was knowing -- and one does not easily hide sentiment from one’s soulmate.

 

You see, in all my life, since I was an elfling even, all I have ever asked for is a home. Lindon, well, I deemed that I had failed my homeland terribly after the war of Last Alliance and never again could I take joy in the lowlands beside the sea, knowing the fate to which my fair homeland was bound. Rivendell, my fair Imladris, she who I had help found and sustain was now faded and empty and New Gondolin simply did not have what I needed.

 

Glorfindel had become my home, for home is a feeling and that feeling is bound up with him. We might well live out in the wilderness together, sharing that absurdly small tent and surviving off the rainwater and dry twigs for fire, but it would be home so long as we dwelt there together; he and I. He was my everything and I say that without cringing even a little at the cliché.

 

And at last; I was clear minded.

 

I was Erestor again.