Keeping Up Appearances by Ulan

Chapter 5: That time when Erestor was just concerned (or whatever still justifies what they were doing those days)

Erestor nearly ran down the halls when he heard the news. A skirmish in the northern plains escalated when a second group of orcs provided reinforcements to a group that otherwise could have been easily won. The Elven warriors prevailed all the same, but not without a few casualties.

Fortunately, if the news was to be trusted, all aformentioned casualties were merely injured - small blessings, but injuries can come in varying degrees. Erestor waited until he had laid eyes on the one who had called him to the healing wings and assessed that Elf's state for himself before he could send a prayer of thanks to the Valar.

He was immediately led to Glorfindel's bedside without need of him to say a word. The healers were quick to reassure him that the golden-haired captain would be all right, but warned him that he seemed to be in a foul mood given the length of time needed for his recovery. True enough, Erestor heard Glorfindel's voice from beyond the open door, words indiscernible, but definitely sounding as if he was in the middle of a complaint.

"I can hear you whinging two halls away." Erestor's voice was stern, but he did feel relieved at seeing the other apparently well enough to be awake and causing trouble.

Glorfindel was wrapped in the white sheets of the healing room from his waist down. He leaned back against a tall stack of pillows and his chest was bare, drawing Erestor's eyes to defined pectorals, broad shoulders, and the elegant jut of collar bone. But shortly after this he also saw thick bandages wrapped around the captain's abdomen and waist, matched by the white around his arms, one of which extended down to a cast on his left hand. A few spots of red bled through some of his bandages.

"Erestor!" said Glorfindel, which he said with a relieved sigh. "Oh, thank the Valar. Please, make them stop their nagging. I feel fine."

Erestor turned to the healer who was on the farther side of Glorfindel's bed. The poor thing was holding a full cup of tea in his hands.

"My lord, please," said the healer in a soft voice. "Your wounds are fresh yet and you need to drink to fight off possible infection."

"Give it to me," said Erestor, holding out his hand. A look of immense relief flooded through the healer's face, and he was also quick to make his exit once Erestor assured him that he would make Glorfindel drink his tea. "Now," he said, turning to the one lying on the bed. "Shall we get this over with so we may move to more pleasant things or must I force this down your throat?"

Despite the sweat and lines of tension upon Glorfindel's brows - it must have been a long morning for him and his healers - he did turn to Erestor with a grin. "That depends on what pleasant things you mean."

"Or I could just force it down your throat," repeated Erestor in his best honeyed tone.

Glorfindel sighed and let the potential argument go, taking the cup. He drank its contents in great gulps before handing it back to Erestor, who then placed it on the end table beside Glorfindel's bed.

"You are a state," said Erestor, holding Glorfindel's chin as he examined a bruise on the captain's cheek. There was also a cut on one corner of his lip. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit battered," said Glorfindel, watching Erestor in turn even as the other continued to examine him. He took the other's free hand and pulled him to sit on the bed, which admittedly was a more comfortable position for Erestor to continue with his examination. "Orcs have hard heads," Glorfindel continued to say. "That is one, on my cheek. Smelled terrible, too."

"Rude of them, I know, going to battle with such poor hygiene. I hope you at least received an apology," was Erestor's sardonic response. It was poor humour, but he did not particularly enjoy the image of the enemy so close to Glorfindel.

"No, we did not quite reach that point in our acquaintance. He was too busy gagging on his own blood, for one."

Not wishing to continue such an unpleasant line of conversation any longer, Erestor sighed and said solemnly, "I am sorry. I suppose these things still happen even among the best of us. If I could but spare you, I would."

"What wisdom is there in keeping a sharp blade sheathed when there is need for every good weapon to be drawn?" asked Glorfindel, though his eyes were focused intently on Erestor. "I returned for precisely these things. Now, if you meant that you would take up the sword again, which I know you held an age ago, then I must stop you there. You are better at strategy, and it is only well that only one of us need face such dangers on the field." Then, with a smile, he added, "Anyway, if I were to be forced to stay in this uncomfortable bed, I would much rather have company always at the ready."

Erestor raised a dark eyebrow. "Always at the ready, is it? You presume much if you think I will be here for that long or that often. My schedule is often full, you know." Never mind that he ran immediately upon receiving word of Glorfindel in the healing wing, but the other needed not know that.

Glorfindel laughed. "Sweetheart, why must things always be so difficult with you? If you were not such a comfort to me, I would kick you out of my rooms and have them replace you with someone who would actually sing to me and hold my hand."

"Ah, so now your multitude of simpering admirers seem more attractive. If you want me out and them back in your life, that can be easily arranged. I mean, less the kicking; I can walk myself out. A wounded warrior makes for poor company anyway."

"No, please stay." Even if Erestor did not make any move to stand or leave, Glorfindel laid a hand on his arm anyway as if to keep him in place. "It helps that you are here, truly. I feel much better now since before you arrived."

"That could also be just the tea working." Erestor carefully pulled his arm out of Glorfindel's hold, but only so he could turn it and grasp that same hand in one of his. There was a look of surprise on Glorfindel's face, but his own fingers curled unquestioningly in turn between Erestor's all the same, tightening their hold. Erestor looked down at their clasped hands. "This, I can do for you, but the singing might be a bit much."

"What?" For a moment, Glorfindel looked completely distracted, but he soon caught Erestor's meaning. "Oh, that. Well, that's fine. You can also just tell me stories. Your voice is good for speaking, too, and you know the contents of that great mind are endlessly fascinating to me."

Erestor smiled. Over the years, Glorfindel had grown sweet-tongued and generous with his compliments, which he claimed was because Erestor complained so much about the things Glorfindel said. He had to learn to please him, he said, else he would not last in Erestor's company. Though Erestor knew this, and no doubt what Glorfindel said was yet another exercise of his newly found skill, he could not deny the frisson of warmth that bloomed in his chest still at the words.

"You do know how to get your way," he remarked with some amusement. "Very well. What do you wish to hear?"