Anor and Ithil by Haeron

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Chapter 4

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TA2752

 

Erestor opened his eyes after exhaling a weighted breath. His chambers were aglow with firelight dancing in the grate and the oncoming winter was halted somewhat here. A glance out of the tall, arched window would unravel the illusion of warmth, however. The clouds, wreathed in night’s dark blanket, looked heavy enough to threaten snow. Erestor wondered if the combined ardent prayers of the elflings (and more than a few grown elves, no doubt) in Imladris would be enough to see it so.

 

He was wringing his hands and letting his thoughts wander, an old, shameful habit that his father had never managed to purge from him completely. Glorfindel didn’t seem to notice his fidgeting, or if he did he said nothing. They were talking, at last. Though it was a thing easier said than done.

 

Glorfindel was sat in the armchair Erestor favoured on a night, reclining in it as though a King, bathed in the firelight that lit and loved his face. Candlelight and fire glow always revealed Glorfindel for what he was; an old, old elf, of heritage noble and ancient blood. Sometimes he would look up at Erestor and Erestor would look back. Their gaze was strong. Erestor always was the first to look away.

 

He wished it were not so. He diverted his attention to the glum scene beyond the windowpanes and revelled in the broodiness of the skies and young night, it was as though his most confidential conscience had spilled out there. It was not beautiful, but macabre.

 

‘You turn from me and force distance between us,’ Glorfindel said to the fireplace. ‘do you fear I will visit harm upon you?’ The question was obviously painful to put to voice, just as it was painful for Erestor to receive. A tentative step towards the armchair and reclining Lord he took, and shook his head.

 

‘You would never do so. I do not fear that.’

 

‘And you would have most of the House believing that there is nothing indeed that you fear.’ Glorfindel said, evidently much relieved. Erestor was not. ‘But for all of us there is a fear that we are paired with.’

 

‘Even you?’

 

‘Especially me.’ Glorfindel said with a gentle smile. ‘Storms and lightning and bad weather, I cannot abide.’

 

‘Storms? But you have died.’

 

‘I have.’

 

The chamber fell silent absent reason to speak further. Erestor waited. Glorfindel’s smile faded and he looked to somewhere seen only in his mind’s eye. His chest rose and fell in time with his breaths, unlaboured, comfortable, Erestor watched in silent marvel and half began to match his own breathing to Glorfindel’s rhythm.

 

‘But now I fear darkness more than death.’ he said, after long pause. He smiled not and looked ahead though his eyes appeared unfocused.

 

‘What is the difference?’ Erestor asked and was stunned suddenly by the wry smile come to bloom on Glorfindel’s face. A world of wonders that elf had seen, surely, and the things he might have learned in Mandos...

 

Erestor concealed a shiver. It had always been hard to comprehend the legendary fate of the Golden Lord of Gondolin. Glorfindel was so very alive, sat in his armchair breathing lightly in and out and in.

 

‘Light, Erestor. That is the difference between death and the dark.’

 

How cryptic. Erestor almost smiled. ‘Life, light and love.’ he recited, as though a stanza of poetry he had committed to heart’s memory. He knew nothing of any such things, truth be told, and in that moment would rather have had strong wine than any abundance of light.

 

‘You bring me all three.’ Glorfindel said, quietly.

 

Erestor turned to him. He was sat with his fingers laced together in his lap looking suddenly so tired. And radiant, always. There was a vulnerability about the elf, lifting his eyes to meet Erestor’s as warily as one might face a cornered warg. Painted, dancing shadows on his face, borne of amber firelight, made him a thing of art and his words were intimate. Erestor knew he had long since lost his heart to Glorfindel, and it would have been so sweet to let his voice intoxicate them both further.

 

Life, light and love. Erestor knew not why he denied them both these things, only that he must to avoid some terrible crescendo that hovered overhead perpetually, a knife hanging on a frayed string.

 

‘And I know you suffer, too.’ Glorfindel added, blinking. ‘Quietly, never speaking a word of it even to receptive ears.’

 

Truly spoken. The clouds had merged outside, to create a new sky of soft tumult and foreboding herald.

 

‘I am alone in this,’ Erestor began, lifting a hand to still Glorfindel’s tongue when he made to interrupt. ‘and this is my choice. It is the wrong choice, for us, but the only one not swathed in some sorrow I cannot fully perceive. I have grown out of touch with the very substance of life, Glorfindel, and I know not what I am anymore.’

 

‘Such philosophical questions, sunshine.’

 

Erestor did smile that time, an impulse of affection he could not restrain. Did such troubles never assail Glorfindel? Erestor was sure that they did, the airy smiles and jubilant laughter could only do so much to persuade otherwise. But Glorfindel had family and love to balm any similar ill natured thoughts, of course.

 

Had family? Had, has, will have. Erestor raked back his dark hair and knew Glorfindel’s eyes watched, appreciative. Had the time come to give voice to what other oddities swirled about in the bowels of his mind? Erestor took breath, ceased his pacing and shook his head.

 

‘A shade I have become, too involved with the intangible that the tangible begins to slip from my grasp too. I have ruined all along the way somewhere, and the pieces do not seem to fit together though I might seek to restore them to wholeness. Does this make sense to you? No, nor to me either. There are arms to catch me, were I to fall to my freedom, but I second guess myself.’

 

Glorfindel had listened and sat back now in the armchair, letting the silence blossom and licking his lips. Erestor stood, chest heaving with verbal exertion, and found himself captivated by the play of light and shadow on Glorfindel’s neck as he reclined; pondering.

 

And Erestor could only think of running a tongue up it.

 

‘We might heal one another.’

 

They both believed the words, spoken earnestly. A tidal pull tugged at Erestor’s heart and feet. He could give himself into such promises, right now, and sate the yearning that seized ever larger territories of his soul. He walked a few steps and dragged his fingers over the tops of the upholstery.

 

Why did he not give in?  Erestor held his eyes closed a moment. He did not know.

 

‘Erestor, Erestor come to me.’

 

Erestor’s legs threatened to fail beneath him. His soul cried.

 

‘If I do,’ he said, praying his voice would not waver. ‘I will destroy you with my melancholy.’

 

‘I will ease it, only.’ Glorfindel said with a smile more heartbreak than joy. ‘I can help.’

 

‘I will break your heart.’

 

‘You do so already, Erestor. Each day.’

 

‘Glorfindel,’ Erestor said. A warning and a plea.

 

‘Erestor,’ Glorfindel said. An echo, a jest, almost.

 

It sparked something irritable in Erestor’s gut, he turned on his heel and resumed pacing the chamber, quicker now than before. Glorfindel stayed seated but watched with expression absent mirth.

 

‘The love I bear for you brings me life, Erestor. It has healed many hurts despite its never being returned openly. It has given me cause to live and laugh again and I would see your own spirits lifted so too, you have only to let yourse-’

 

Erestor could not stop the implosion.

 

‘Say not so! It is an illusion!’ he snapped, with venomous tongue. Glorfindel sat stricken in shock before rising from the chair. He began to approach Erestor, carefully, but Erestor took a step back for every step Glorfindel took forward. Distance was key, in all things.

 

There was an anger rising in him he could not dampen. It was a grotesque thing, burning a hatred and disgust that only ever should have been applied inwards. Glorfindel was not deserving of the fire, Glorfindel was not deserving of the barbs Erestor spat; but it was happening.

 

Glorfindel was extending a hand. Erestor knew he should take it but he did not and fresh ire spewed forth as result of another decision made in cowardice. Erestor could not bring himself to place the burden of himself in those broad hands, it was too much of a burden for any one elf to bear.

 

And Erestor felt suddenly keen to claw at his own skin.

 

Glorfindel stepped forward.

 

‘Do not.’ Erestor said.

 

Glorfindel did.

 

‘Do not!’

 

He heard the hitch of Glorfindel’s breath as he swept past him to the windowside, burying his hands in the heavy velvet of the burgundy curtains as though the touch of something thus would ground him to reality again. His fingers clenched into a fist around the fabric. Glorfindel approached.

 

‘Come sit down a while Erestor and gather yourself, there is no feeling so terrible we cannot see it turned to memory.’

 

‘But there is! There are many! And I hold them all within my breast! You would tangle yourself in this, in me? Then you are a fool, truly!’

 

‘Fool? Aye, in most matters but not in loving you!’

 

‘YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND!’

 

The curtains and curtain pole came down with one heavy tug and a grand, dull crash. Erestor held still a tattered length in his hands as he bore his teeth at Glorfindel who had turned to stone at the wreck and outburst. His hands hurt. His heart hurt.

 

‘I am a fiend.’ Erestor whispered. ‘And you are a God. I would ruin you and ruin that kind heart.’

 

Glorfindel said nothing but shifted his weight and stared. The room grew dark for Erestor as his field of vision retreated to nothing. He could barely stand, the nausea roiled from somewhere acidic in his gut and he knew he would fall and crumple to lie amid the ruins of the curtain and pole should even Glorfindel but breathe on him.

 

Everything was wrong. He did not have the strength to make it right.

 

‘Leave,’ Erestor said.

 

Glorfindel balked.

 

‘Why push me away now? Let me help you!’

 

‘Leave.’

 

‘Erestor!’

 

‘LEAVE! Leave before I ruin all and...’ Erestor’s voice broke and turned to a sob of agony. He clapped his hand over his mouth and pressed shut his eyes and prayed for silence. Glorfindel’s footfalls were all he heard. The creaking of a door and its subsequent rough closing. Glorfindel had left, once again by his instruction.

 

‘You are a fool.’ Erestor whispered, and fell atop the curtain poles.