GLORFINDEL LION-HEART
Genre: slash, humour, sap.
Rating: yellow/mild orange
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel (not the Balrog-slayer, though), Erestor/Legolas
Warnings: AU, and how! A wee bit of angst.
Beta: Miss Enismirdal, the mûmak multiplicator
Feedback: But most certainly yes!
Beautiful artwork by Nellas of Doriath!
Summary: Glorfindel wishes he had a lion-heart. And Erestor.
Author's notes: They only thing this story has in common with my "usual" AU are the customs of the Woodland Elves. Originally, this was supposed to be a stand-alone. Alas, it turned out to be a new series. Thanks for convincing me to write this series, it was a lot of fun!
CHAPTER 6
There was no laughter in Imladris, and even the sun did not seem to dare to show her happy face. Grey clouds hung deep over the valley of Imladris, grey as the faces of the Elves living in the place formerly known as the Last Homely House.
There was nothing homely about this place any more. Happiness had left these halls the day Elladan and Elrohir had brought their mother home, saved from the claws of the Orcs who had attacked her and her guards on their way to Lothlórien, but injured in body and soul.
The body Elrond could mend, but there was no salve or draught to save his beloved wife's soul. When all had failed and even the Lady Galadriel could not do anything for her daughter anymore, the family decided to give in to Lady Celebrían's wish to sail West. Maybe she would find peace and healing in the Undying Lands; it was her last chance, and Elrond clung to it with the desperation of an Elf who was about to lose everything he held dear.
And it was not only Elrond – his sons, once so cheerful, always laughing, found no way to deal with their anger and helplessness but to ride out, month after month, hunting and slaying Orcs wherever they could, returning covered in blood and grime. They could not understand that their behaviour put additional weight on the shoulders of their father, for he had to worry that one day his sons might not return to Imladris again.
Glorfindel sat in his workshop, carving on a bow, when Lady Celebrían's servant knocked on his door. He felt miserable. Of course he felt sorry for the poor lady and her cruel fate, and he could imagine how hard all this must have been for her family. But at least she still lived, while Erestor… Glorfindel swallowed hard. No, he could not allow himself to cry now, not with a customer outside. He put the bow away, wiped his eyes and stepped into the sales room.
"Well met, Master Glorfindel," the young Elf said, and bowed. "I come by order of the Lady Celebrían, who wishes to see you before she sails West. It is an urgent matter, so please, come with me right away."
Glorfindel's eyes became wide like saucers.
"Lady Celebrían? But… why would she want to see me?" he asked.
The servant shook his head.
"I do not know, Master Glorfindel, and if I did know, I would not be at liberty to tell you. Please, follow me, time is tight and she insisted in seeing you immediately."
Glorfindel, despite being totally confused, nodded, and followed the Elf. Two horses were waiting outside, so the matter really seemed to be urgent if there was no time left to walk to the Last Homely House!
Upon entering Lady Celebrían's home, Glorfindel shivered under the terrible weight of silence and sadness. How could anybody live here! Without light, without laughter! Certainly every Elf having to dwell here would fade!
The servant walked up two flights of stairs, Glorfindel close on his tracks, and soon enough, they stood in front of Lady Celebrían's chamber. The servant knocked, and without waiting for an answer, he opened the door and gestured for Glorfindel to enter.
Glorfindel swallowed hard on the lump in his throat, then stepped into the chamber. It was a beautiful room, light and airy, with flowers everywhere, but yet there was the same air of sadness that prevailed everywhere else in the Last Homely House.
Celebrían, dressed in a plain white linen robe, sat beside the window overlooking the Bruinen. She did not seem to notice his presence, so Glorfindel cleared his throat to catch her attention.
"Glorfindel, you have come. I thank you," she said. "Please come here and sit beside me."
He had expected her voice to be weak, but it was the same voice he knew, calm and strong, and despite all the terrible experiences she had gone through, Celebrían's voice was comforting and calming. Glorfindel nodded and sat down gingerly in the chair next to her's.
"I would never tell my parents," she finally began, without looking at Glorfindel, "but despite being a child of Lothlórien and loving my home very much, I always thought that Imladris was the most beautiful place in Arda. I often wondered why this is so; only lately I realised that your home is where your heart is, and my heart is with Elrond. It will always be."
She finally turned to Glorfindel, who shivered upon seeing the pained look in her eyes.
"Do you know where your heart is, Glorfindel?"
He looked down at his boots, which were muddy. He could have said 'buried in the snow at Redhorn Gate,' but he did not dare to say this, out of fear to trouble the lady even more. At least he hoped that Erestor had received some form of decent burial; the thought of him ending as some Orc’s nightmeal was too much to bear for Glorfindel.
"You do not answer, Glorfindel, but you do not need to. I know. I only wish that he had known, too. Why do we never tell those we love how we feel until it is too late? Oh, you should have seen him fighting, Glorfindel. When all others had already fallen, he was still standing upright, despite his wounds, defending me to his very death. Had it not be for him, I might be dead today. And the worst thing of it all, my young friend, is that I cannot decide whether this earned him my eternal gratitude or unforgiving wrath."
She turned her gaze to the Bruinen again. Erestor had often reminded her of the river; so dark, wild and cold, yet gentle and beautiful. She could have told Glorfindel more, could have told him the horror of seeing the snow around Erestor's body colouring deep red, how a grey shroud had covered the dark eyes, and what a terrible contrast the thin line of blood running down Erestor's cheek had been to the paleness of his face.
But she would not tell the young Elf what she had seen. She would never tell anyone, and with a bit of luck, she might not remember herself anymore, one day.
Celebrían reached in the pocket of her robe and pulled out a key. She held it out to Glorfindel, begging him to take it.
"This is the key to Erestor's house. I am certain he would have wanted you to have it. All his belongings are in there, his clothes, weapons, memories - do with them as you wish."
"But, my lady…" Glorfindel began, but broke off. He took the key with trembling hands, and stared at it.
Celebrían stood up, and took Glorfindel's head between her hands.
"Go now, my child. Blessed be."
With that, she pressed a gentle kiss on Glorfindel's forehead, then turned again towards the window. Glorfindel realised that she had already forgotten him, returned to a place to which he had no access, and so he stood up and quickly left the room, clutching the key so firmly in his hand that it left imprints.
Just like Erestor had left imprints in his heart.
* * *
TBC