SHELTER
Overall rating: yellow
Category: slash (two male Elves in love), some het content in later chapters
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel, OMC/OMC, Erestor/OFC (the audience goes "eeek!")
Warnings: melancholy, sap and tissue-alert for the last chapter
Beta: the wonderful Eveiya
Summary: Glorfindel learns that he does not know as much about Erestor as he thought. And Erestor finally confronts a part of his past he tried to forget.
Chapter 1
There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places have their moments
Of lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I loved them all.
"There are places I remember" – Johnny Cash (Orig.: The Beatles)
* * *
Most of the time, Glorfindel could read Erestor like an open book. No matter how indifferent the advisor seemed to be in the eyes of those around him, Glorfindel knew when he was sad, angry, happy or tired. After so many centuries shared, it had become natural for him and Erestor to finish each other's sentences or to understand the various meanings of a hand gesture or an arched eyebrow. The higher Erestor's left eyebrow arched towards his hairline, the more upset or puzzled he was.
Yes, most of the time, Glorfindel was convinced that nobody knew Erestor better than he did. But there were also those days when he wondered if he knew the advisor at all. There were days when Erestor left the Last Homely House without a word, and when Glorfindel found him, usually in the middle of the night, he would be sitting on a stone by the pond, staring out over the water, or lying on his back, gazing at the stars above. He never told Glorfindel what it was that drove him away. In the beginning, the warrior had thought that it might be sea-longing, but he soon realized that Erestor himself might not know what caused his melancholic mood. His worried questions remained unanswered, and as he did not wish to upset Erestor, he had stopped asking altogether.
Glorfindel knew what it was like to be haunted by demons so terrifying one did not dare to mention them, out of fear that they might become reality. One of his own demons wielded a fiery whip in his dreams, every lash burning deep into his flesh. The other demon, by now the worse, was the thought of coming home and finding Erestor gone. Glorfindel knew that the Balrog was gone, and Erestor was here, but still: speaking the words would magnify the terror tenfold. So he simply put his arm around Erestor, pressed a soft kiss on his cheek and then led him back to the Last Homely House. By the time they arrived, Erestor's mood had usually brightened and he was his old, friendly self again.
This morning, however, Erestor had not been friendly. The recipient of the advisor's anger had been Master Feronil, one of Elrond's advisors. He was most skilled when it came to trade and business; it was said that he could sell Telain to Dwarves and diets to Hobbits. Elrond appreciated him for this talent, but Feronil was also known to chase everything on two legs that was not a ladder, and was generally regarded as the black sheep of the flock.
Feronil, however, thought himself to be the wolf.
It had started out quite harmlessly. The city of Osgiliath had extended an invitation to Rivendell to join in the Harvest Celebrations, and now a representative had to be named to accept this invitation and participate in the festivities. Lord Elrond, who had returned from Gondor only two months ago, could not leave his responsibilities again so soon. Elrohir had flatly refused to leave his home, Elladan and Orophin claimed that they had to look after Eldanar, their newly adopted son, and so it had become obvious that a council member would have the privilege of two weeks of merriment, music and hangovers as well as a long, hard, dangerous journey, possible confrontations with Orcs and a difficult mountain passage.
The council had quickly agreed that Master Feronil was exactly the right Elf for such a mission.
Feronil, who had just devised a cunning plan to win over Lindir the minstrel – a plan destined to fail like all Feronil's previous plans of this kind – had not been delighted at all, and had tried to convince those present that Master Erestor would be far more suitable to represent Rivendell.
"Not only are you, as Lord Elrond's chief advisor, the perfect representative of this realm, you also speak the language of the people of Gondor much better than I do. Just think of the new friendships you could make, and how much Rivendell could benefit! And there will be free wine and women! Though the latter, of course, hold no interest for you," Feronil had added quickly when an angry growl could be heard from the direction of Glorfindel’s seat.
"There is no way in Mordor that Erestor will undertake such a long journey," Glorfindel had snapped, "if you are not Elf enough to go, then I suggest we politely explain that none of us is available. They will not hold a grudge. I hope."
"Lord Glorfindel, I fully understand your concerns, but at times, individuals have to make sacrifices for the benefit of the community," Feronil smugly countered.
"There will be a sacrifice here any moment now, Master Feronil, and it will definitely be for the benefit of this community!" Glorfindel had barked, and Feronil had hastily taken two steps back, out of Glorfindel's reach.
"I do not wish to go to Osgiliath. I have a child to look after," Erestor had stated, giving Feronil a stern look which clearly indicated that this was his last word.
Unfortunately, Feronil only accepted the last word when it was spoken by him.
"Dear Master Erestor – your son would stay here in the care of Lord Glorfindel. And do you not wish to see Osgiliath again? I thought you were overly fond of the place? I remember how often you …"
Feronil did not manage to finish his sentence, because Erestor had jumped up, grabbed him by the collar, drawn the surprised advisor close, and was shaking him roughly.
"Which part of 'no' is it you do not understand, Master Feronil?" he hissed, baring his teeth at Feronil, who, for the first time, noticed that these teeth were very white, very strong and also very sharp.
"I only tried to…" Feronil began, but an angry growl from Erestor silenced him immediately.
"You only tried to meddle in my affairs, and I do not appreciate this. What I did, do or will do is none of your concern. Go to Osgiliath or stay here, I do not care, but do not touch upon things which are none of your business."
"Erestor."
Elrond's calm voice broke the spell. With a confused expression on his face, Erestor let go of Feronil and shook his head.
"I am most sorry, Master Feronil. I – I do not know what came over me, please forgive my outburst. It shall not happen again."
Erestor had fled the place and run into the woods, not turning or answering to either Glorfindel's or Elrond's calls. He had stayed away all day long, and only when night had come had he sneaked back into their bedchamber and under the blankets, snuggling up to Glorfindel without saying a word. The warrior did what seemed best: he did not speak, only hugged his husband close.
For a long time they lay like this, wide awake, and the only sounds to be heard were the chirping of the cicadas outside and the occasional gurgle from Estorel, who slept peacefully in his crib and probably dreamt of chasing butterflies.
"Fin, there is something I need to tell you." Erestor finally broke the silence, and Glorfindel squeezed his shoulder lovingly.
"Whatever it is, I will listen."
"You will not like it, Fin, and you will be upset because I never told you, while so many others know the story already."
"Ah, so you finally confess about your secret lover then," Glorfindel quipped, trying to lighten up the situation, but as a matter of fact, he was afraid of the confession to come. He knew Erestor well enough to understand that this was a big, important secret his husband was about to share, and he had a feeling that it would not be one he found delightful.
"Yes, Fin. This is what I am about to do."
Had Erestor just confessed that he was actually the son of Sauron, Glorfindel could not have been more flabbergasted.
"What?" he croaked, "Are you trying to tell me that you have been unfaithful? But – why? And who? And…"
"Shhh," Erestor interrupted his confused husband, putting a finger on the warrior's lips. "This happened before I knew you – it happened before you had even returned from the Halls of Waiting."
Glorfindel let out a breath of relief.
"Do not scare me so, beloved. For a moment, I really feared you would confess to me that you had your wicked way with Elrond in the library."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Erestor had to stifle a grin.
"What is it with you and your irrational jealousy of Elrond?" he asked, stroking Glorfindel's jaw gently with his fingers.
"He is very fair. And you are of the same spirit. You have a lot in common."
"Indeed. We have. Elrond and I share an insane obsession for old battered warriors with rude manners and a questionable handling of the truth. The Valar know why both of us have fallen for obnoxious tellers of hackneyed stories like you and Gil-galad. But do not fear, beloved," he added as he gently kissed Glorfindel, "my heart is yours alone, and nothing and nobody could ever change this."
"I am glad to hear this, my dear. And now go ahead with your tale."
Erestor took a deep breath, then he began to tell what had happened, many centuries ago, close to the city of Osgiliath.
* * *
TBC