Second Lives, Second Chances by chrissystriped

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Chapter Ten

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Chapter Text

Glorfindel raced his horse south-west, Rog right beside him. They’d been riding for weeks, Glorfindel urging them on, resting only when the horses couldn’t go on. The dark line of the mountains of Mordor had appeared on the horizon in the morning, dark clouds looming above it.

It was said, Sauron recruited his armies from the Men of the East, but maybe Rog’s family lived too far east even for his reach. They had not heard of the war that was brewing in the West. Only when one of Rog’s relatives, who’d been travelling as they sometimes did, came back from his journey, had they heard of the siege on the Black Land that had been going on for years.

And Glorfindel had not been there to fight beside Gil-galad and Elrond! A feeling of dread had gripped his heart some days ago. He was too late. He knew not for what, but he knew he was too late.

 

He stood beside his king’s dead body, tears clouding his sight. Gil-galad lay in state beside Elendil of Númenor in the city of Men. The precious robes he was dressed in hid the burns that had killed him. Glorfindel fell to his knees and hid his face in his hands. They’d needed him and he hadn’t been there. It helped little that he had had no idea of what was going on and had raced west as soon as he found out.

He’d only been a week late. A week sooner and he would have stood beside Gil-galad when Sauron attacked. Glorfindel lifted his head and looked at the carving of an eagle that spread his wings above the dead kings.

“You chose a bad representative”, Glorfindel told Manwë. “I was not with the king when I should have been. I was neglectful of my duty. I will not be so again.”

Elrond did not intend to accept the crown, but Glorfindel would take him as his lord nonetheless — last of the line of Fingolfin on Middle-earth. He would not leave Imladris again, even if that meant to have to part from Rog for long stretches of time. He could understand that Rog didn’t want to leave his family, Glorfindel had felt at home there, too.

Guilt stabbed at his heart again. He’d felt too at home there. He’d fallen in love with the deep wood and a way of life that was so different from anything he’d ever experienced and had forgotten why he had come back to Middle-earth.

“I’m sorry, my king.” He stood up and kissed Gil-galad’s forehead (the skin tasted of the herbs the Númenóreans used to preserve the body). “I will do better for your cousin. And I will beg your forgiveness, when we meet again on the other side of the sea.”

 

Rog had waited in the room they’d been given in this city of white stone. It was built by Men, but it reminded him of Gondolin in ways Imladris had never done.

Glorfindel had wanted to pay his last respects to the king alone. He knew how guilty Glorfindel felt, he wished he could do something. He’d been so happy living with him among his family. Maybe he had been selfish when he had convinced Glorfindel to stay a little longer each time. But how could he have known that there was war again in the west. The last they’d heard, Sauron had been dragged off to Númenor. And now the King of the Noldor was dead and Glorfindel blamed himself for it, because he thought he could have prevented it.

Rog had his doubts, as formidable as he knew Glorfindel to be, he doubted he’d have fared any better. Isildur had been lucky, if anyone asked him. Glorfindel didn’t look at him when he came back. He walked through the room and out on the balcony, leaning against the railing.

“Can I do anything for you?”, Rog said softly. Glorfindel shook his head, his shoulders were shaking.

 

~*~*~

 

A terrible silence had grown between them and Rog did not know how to push through it. Glorfindel insisted on everything being fine, whenever he asked him, but he knew it was not.

Glorfindel had thrown himself into work. Already on the long ride back to Imladris, he’d taken up his old post — Elrond had promised him that it would wait for him when he’d left.

On their stay with Rog’s family, they’d shared a tent, but now Glorfindel didn’t ask him to move in with him. He had on their first stay in Imladris, Rog regretted now that he’d turned him down at that occasion. As it was, they barely saw each other. It scared him. Since they’d met again, Glorfindel had always actively tried to be close to him. Rog didn’t know what it meant that he closed himself off now and he cursed himself that he’d kept him at arm’s length.

He had wanted to protect his heart, even when he’d already known that he had fallen for Glorfindel. All his family had known how much he meant to him. Why had he never told Glorfindel he loved him? Had he really been that scared of going a step further in their relationship? Glorfindel had never left any doubt that he wanted to marry him. But now… now that he realised he wanted to, there never seemed to be the right moment for telling him. Rog didn’t know what to do.

Imladris had never felt like home to him — the valley too narrow; the settlement that had sprung up around the former fortress too populated — but he’d endured it for Glorfindel. He felt lonely in this place like he’d never felt even when he’d been travelling alone. If Glorfindel didn’t want him any more — and his heart ached at the thought — what was he doing here?

Rog felt the overwhelming urge to leave. It was too late to protect his heart, but at least he could make it so Glorfindel never knew how much he’d hurt him. After another week, when he’d only seen Glorfindel for a few moments at dinner, he found himself packing his bag. As he was closing the buckles, he felt tears coming to his eyes.

He did not want their relationship to end! And he knew if he left now, they’d likely never see each other again. Rog wiped his eyes and straightened. When had he stopped saying out loud what was on his mind? When had he ever run from a problem? This was beneath him! He would talk to Glorfindel, even if it meant making himself more vulnerable than ever before.

 

Glorfindel was not in his rooms although it was already late, but Rog had no longer any qualms to let himself in. He busied himself with building a fire and then waited on the settee before the fireside. It was a long wait. Rog had found a piece of paper and was doodling designs for a garden gate when the door finally opened. Glorfindel looked tired and it took him way too long to notice him.

“You are inattentive”, Rog remarked softly.

Glorfindel jumped. “If you have come to scold me…”

“No!” Rog stood up and came towards him but Glorfindel shied back from his touch. He tried to hide the stab that shot through his heart. “I’m sorry. I… I want to talk with you, Glorfindel. Please?”

Glorfindel rubbed his face. “I’m tired, Rog.”

‘Maybe that’s because it’s almost morning and you barely sleep’, Rog thought, but he assumed saying that would lead to a fight. “I know, but… Glorfindel, we have barely talked in the last two months.”

“I have a lot of work, Rog”, Glorfindel said impatiently.

“Yes, of course… Glorfindel!” Rog gripped his shoulders when he tried to push past him. “I packed my bag today, I wanted to leave, but I just can’t without talking to you! I do not want us to end like this, Glorfindel!”

Glorfindel blinked numbly at him. “If you want to leave, then leave. I told you, I won’t catch you. But I can’t go with you. I won’t risk losing another lord I swore to protect.”

Rog bit down on the sob that was rising in his throat.

“Please, Glorfindel, don’t push me away. I know you took the High King’s death hard, but don’t do that! Don’t shut me out. I know, I always was the one who held you at arm’s length and I’m sorry. I was scared. I love you!”

 

Glorfindel blinked down at Rog. He was woozy with lack of sleep and wondered, if he was, in fact, dreaming. Rog had never before said these words. Rog had always kept his distance, insisted that their relationship was nothing too serious, nothing permanent. And Glorfindel had let him, although it stabbed at his heart. To be honest, he had not been surprised, when Rog had said, he wanted to be gone again. A part of his heart wanted to go with him, but the other part of his heart, the one that grieved for Gil-galad, knew he couldn’t. He would not forsake Elrond like he had Gil-galad. He had expected Rog to leave; he had not expected to hear ‘I love you’. Glorfindel felt tears rise into his eyes.

“I love you, too”, he croaked and leaned into Rog’s arms that held him. “I wish you could stay.”

“I would. I will. I’m so lonely here without you, Glorfindel. We haven’t been alone in weeks.”

Glorfindel knew he was right. He’d drawn back in on himself, had heaped work on himself to bury the grief.

“Let me help you, my love.” Rog’s voice hitched on the last words, Glorfindel knew how much it cost him to say them. “Let me share your grief and let me share your happiness. Let me be a part of your life.”

Glorfindel gulped. “Why, Rog, that almost sounds like a proposal”, he said lightly, trying to laugh it off so as not to be disappointed when Rog inevitably denied that it was meant that way.

But maybe he was in fact already asleep and dreaming, because Rog blushed — he’d never seen Rog blush before — and mumbled: “Well, maybe it is. It’s not a proper noldorin one, of course, nor of my people, but… If you indeed still want me, I’m finally ready to lay my hand in yours and join our spirits. I know I’ve made you wait long enough.”

“Do I still want you? Of course!” Glorfindel sobbed. “Rog? Am I dreaming?”

Rog smiled at him and kissed his lips. “If you do, we are dreaming together. I’m happy, Glorfindel.”

“I am, too.” Glorfindel embraced Rog tightly. “Although… he’s dead because I was not at his side and I don’t know if I can forgive myself.”

Rog pulled him to the settee and held him tight as he cried and Glorfindel clung to him.

“I know, you probably don’t want to hear that”, Rog said hesitantly. “But do you really think, you could have defeated Sauron?”

“Isildur did”, Glorfindel sobbed. “If only I’d been there.”

He felt Rog shake his head. “Isildur cut off his finger, when Sauron lay on the ground. Gil-galad and Elendil threw him down — and paid for that with their life. Elrond was there, Círdan was there. Do you think they were not trying to protect their king? Gil-galad and Elendil rushed forward, because they were brave. Even if you’d been there, there’s nothing you could have done.”

“But I will never know, because I was not there”, Glorfindel said.

Rog sighed and stroked his hair. “I understand that you can’t let it go right now. Grieve, that’s your right. But let me be there with you.”

“I will. I’m sorry I drew away from you. I thought…” Glorfindel sniffed. “Well, I thought I wasn’t worthy of you.”

“Oh, my dear.” Rog kissed his forehead. “I’ll say it until you grow tired of disagreeing with me: It was not your fault. You didn’t even know about the war.”

“I should have.” Glorfindel laid his hand on Rog’s lips to stop him arguing. “I should have been more interested in news from the West. But I was happy with you and… I feel torn. I was so happy with you while my lord had need of me and I regret that. But I also do not want to sully that happiness with regret.” He spoke slowly, not sure if anything of what he said made sense.

“I understand”, Rog said. “Don’t you know I felt torn in two, after my escape from Angband? I wanted to fight, take revenge, but I also knew that I deprived my family of a highly accomplished smith while I stayed in the west. The other escapees from Angband needed me, too. And so I was torn, because I had two families that needed me.”

“And do you not feel like this now?”, Glorfindel asked, worry coming over him. “I will not leave Imladris on any long journeys again — and your family won’t leave their home of many millennia.”

“Maybe it’s my fate to travel… You know I can’t stay here forever, do you?”

Rog looked worried and Glorfindel caressed his brows, to make the frown go away.

“I know. I promised not to cage you and I still mean it.”

Rog kissed him and Glorfindel sunned himself in the love that emanated from him.

“Thank you. You have been always so mindful of me and I’m grateful for that. I will always come back to you.”

“When will you leave? You said, you packed already.” Glorfindel felt his heart sink at the thought.

“Because you were keeping your distance and I thought you didn’t want me any more!”, Rog said. “My plans have changed, I will stay. Do you have any thoughts on when our wedding should be?”

“Spring next year?”, Glorfindel asked. “I know that’s almost a year, but… Imladris is still in mourning — and I am, too. It would feel wrong to have a celebration now.”

“Yes, I understand. And isn’t a year also the minimum engagement time according to your ridiculous customs?”

Glorfindel chuckled — he didn’t remember when he’d last laughed and it made him feel good and guilty at the same time. “I asked to be allowed to court you three millennia ago, I doubt anyone would find fault with the time passed.”

Rog grinned at him, a twinkle in his eyes that made him look almost boyish.

“But maybe with our lack of chastity?”, he said, but kept his hands on Glorfindel’s back.

Glorfindel was glad for it, for all that he was happier now than when he’d come to his rooms, he didn’t feel like having sex.

“Spring it is, then”, Rog continued. “And I’m more happy than you can imagine. But I’m keeping you awake, you must be tired. Let me bring you to bed.”

Glorfindel allowed him to pull him to his feet and undress him and snuggled into his arms as they slipped under the covers together.

“I love you”, Rog said again, Glorfindel drifted off with a smile on his lips.