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 2
And with all these friends and lovers
There is no one who compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
And I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them.
In my life I loved you more.
"There are places I remember" – Johnny Cash (Orig.: The Beatles)
* * *
Rain, rain, rain, and even more rain. Erestor already felt like a drowned rat, soaked to his undergarments. The storm howled, the wetness chilled his skin, and he was hungry. "Foul" would not have been the appropriate term to describe his mood. Harvest Celebration in Gondor - most delightful.
He cast a quick glance at his three guards, who all had their hoods pulled down over their faces, and from the muttered Elvish curses he could tell that they were as pleased about this little excursion as he. A long, hard journey lay behind them, and now they could not cross the river as it had swelled, fed by weeks of rain, torn the bridges down, flooded the lower parts of the city and made every passage impossible. Resigned, Erestor and his guards had tried to find lodgings in the city, but many other travellers had been trapped by nature's forces as well, and so their search had been without luck. Finally, in the last tavern, the inn-keeper had given them directions to a small farm on the outskirts of Osgiliath. Though it was not a tavern, the owner obviously rented rooms to travellers.
"Simple but clean," the inn-keeper had explained, and this was all Erestor needed. He did not ask for luxury or soft linen sheets, all he wished for was a fire to dry his clothing and a bowl of broth. "Tell Mistress Rhian that I sent you, she knows me."
Erestor already began to fear that they might have gotten lost in the storm, when he heard Teldor, the captain of the guards, calling out to him.
"Master Erestor – I think this is the house the man spoke of!"
He pointed towards a small stone house, surrounded by fences, trees and a garden. There was smoke curling out of the chimney, and a dim glow could be seen in the window. At least the family seemed to be home.
"Indeed – let us hurry, the horses are tired, and I would not mind getting out of this storm either," Erestor replied, and the four Elves urged their horses on. A short while later, they arrived and dismounted, and Erestor knocked on the door. He heard footsteps inside, then the bolt was drawn back, and the door opened a little.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" a female voice asked, and Erestor bowed his head.
"We are travellers and have come a long way, my lady. The inn-keeper of the Dancing Jug gave us directions to your house. He said you might have room for us to stay a few days."
The door closed, and for a moment Erestor feared that the woman would let them stand out in the cold, but then the door opened wide, and Erestor could see a small, but comfortable living room with a fire in the hearth. A small child, probably not older than two years, was sitting on a rug in front of it, chewing on a toy rabbit.
"Please, enter, my lords. You are welcome to stay, but I only have two chambers, if this will do?"
Erestor sighed with relief.
"This is perfect, my lady. We do not require much apart from shelter from the rain and cold and a bowl of hot soup."
She laughed, and Erestor noticed the small wrinkles around her eyes. She seemed to laugh often, and he returned the smile.
The Elves entered the house, their wet cloaks soon leaving small puddles on the floor.
"Please, my lords, shed your cloaks and leave them here, I will hang them up to dry. Arhed! Go and tend to the lords’ horses, make sure they are rubbed down and fed!"
The young man who appeared behind her nodded, and immediately slipped a cloak around his shoulders. He lit a lantern and left the house. Erestor could hear him outside, yelling for the assistance of other servants.
"Sit down, sit down," the woman urged, collecting up the wet cloaks. She stopped a moment to stare when she realized that the unexpected visitors were Elves, but then she hurried to hang the cloaks in the kitchen to dry and went to fetch some blankets for the soaked travel party.
There were not enough chairs to go round, but soon enough, all sat in front of the fireplace, snuggled in warm blankets and greedily swallowing a hot, spicy soup. The child, a little boy, gazed up in fascination at the Elves, and giggled when Salin, who only recently had become the father of a boy Elfling, pulled faces at him.
"It is amazing how the presence of a child can turn the most hardened warrior into a complete fool," Farlin, the youngest of the Elves, snickered. "I wish you could handle the bow as skilfully as you handle nappies, Salin, then we would not embarrass ourselves again in the next competition!"
"Look who is talking," Salin growled, "if you had had your attention on the target, not on the pretty maids who watched you, the Galadhrim would not have won the tournament."
Farlin sighed and rolled his eyes.
"What can I do? They were just too pretty to ignore."
"I would not be surprised if Orophin had paid them just to stand close by and distract you from the contest," Taldor grinned, "it would not be the first time."
"Ah, this is not true," Salin said, shaking his head, "the one paying the maidens at the Mirkwood contest was Rúmil. Orophin was the one who growled at Farlin when he tried to court his pretty little brother."
"Oh do not remind me of Haldir!" Farlin groaned, "Fair he is and good company, but we could not take a single step without Orophin hovering over us like a vulture! I swear, that poor Elf will die a virgin, and it is all thanks to his brother!"
"Do you think they feed Orophin raw meat for breakfast?" Teldor threw in, and they all giggled, save Erestor, who had not joined in the conversation so far.
"Do not speak in such a way about the guardian. He is a loyal servant of the Lord and the Lady of the Golden Wood, and while his antics might be a little – archaic at times, he deserves our respect."
"My apologies, Master Erestor. I did not want to be disrespectful. I am sure that they cook the meat." The Elves grinned, then returned their attention to the soup.
The woman had picked up the child in the meantime, and now sat in a rocking chair, listening to the conversation of her guests. Of course she did not understand a word, but she thought this was a beautiful language, melodious, like a song. The boy seemed to think so, too, for he had fallen asleep during the conversation, and was now snuggled in his mother's arms, happily sucking on his thumb.
Erestor, realizing that they were not very polite towards their host, looked at her and bowed his head.
"My apologies, my lady. My friends do not speak the common tongue; they do not intend to be rude."
She smiled and shook her head. Her hair was dark, with a reddish shimmer from the fire, and her eyes were soft and brown. By Elven standards, she was not very fair, but among mortals, this might be different. Erestor noticed that she had very delicate ankles and wrists, unexpected on a farmer's wife.
"Do not worry, Master Elf, it is a pleasure to listen to you speak. Your language is very beautiful."
Erestor thanked her, and wished he could return the compliment. Alas, of all languages, save possibly Dwarvish, he thought the common tongue to be the most horrid, resembling the symptoms of a throat infection more than anything else, but politeness kept him from making any disparaging remarks.
"I am Master Erestor of Imladris, my lady, advisor to Lord Elrond. And these warriors here are Salin, Teldor and Farlin, my guards. We were invited to join the Harvest Celebrations, but the floods prevented us from crossing the river. So we are most grateful that you offered us shelter."
She settled the child a little more comfortably in her arms. He was tall for his age, and became heavy after she had held him for a while.
"Do not worry about the weather. The water rises, the bridges are torn down, and one half of the city's cut off from the other. We have grown used to it over the years, it happens almost every year. Just give it a few days, and things will be back to normal. The storms never last long, and the ground was in dire need of water. I was beginning to fear it would never rain."
"I trust that you are right, my lady. So we shall wait it out then. Is your husband in as well, so that we may greet him properly?"
"My husband is gone," she replied briskly, and Erestor blushed.
"My apologies. I did not know of your loss."
"Loss? What loss?"
Erestor was confused by the puzzled expression on her face, and he put the bowl down on the ground.
"The loss of your husband."
A moment of silence, then she burst out in laughter, which woke up the child and seemed highly inappropriate in Erestor's eyes. The loss of a life partner, one’s soul mate, certainly should not trigger merriment!
"Please forgive my laughter, Master Erestor. My husband didn't die. He ran off with a woman from Minas Tirith a couple of months after the little one here was born. He got tired of his son's nightly screaming, you know. Good riddance, I say, and he was certainly no loss!"
Seeing the confusion on the Elf's face, she thought that Elves probably did not leave their wives and run away to amuse themselves with tavern dancers, and she added: "I suppose Elves wouldn't cheat on their wives?"
Erestor opened his mouth to say that no, indeed, Elves would never do such a thing, but then he thought of Feronil, Lord Celeborn and some other fine specimens of male Elven faithfulness, and decided not to pursue the matter.
"It does happen, but rarely," he murmured, and returned his attention to the soup.
"But you live so long – don't you get tired of each other?"
"I suppose not," Erestor answered hesitatingly, "but I am not married, so I cannot tell."
"Oh. Never met the right girl then? Don't worry, you're young, there's still time."
Erestor, who could look back on more than four thousand begetting days, thought about pointing out his age, but at the end of the day, it was not of importance.
"I am sorry if my question reminded you of your pain," Erestor said instead, and she shrugged.
"Life goes on – would it change anything if I sat here and dwelt in misery? I only have one life to live, and I decided to enjoy it. The only time I really miss the rascal is in March."
"Why in March? Did you get married that month?"
She laughed again.
"Oh no, but in March, we harvest the potatoes, which is hard work. I have some help here, but that's when I notice his absence the most. But what can I do? We need to eat, so I have to work."
Erestor tried to imagine any of the noble Elven ladies in Imladris kneeling in a field, digging out potatoes, but the picture was too bizarre.
"Here I sit, boring you with idle talk about farm work," Rhian said, "please forgive me, I don't get to see many people out here, so I'm afraid that I get too talkative when I have visitors."
"No, please, do not worry, Mistress Rhian. I am no stranger to work, though you might think all an advisor does is shuffle scrolls. My father used to be a carpenter, and we had a small field behind the house."
"Now that's the first time I’ve heard such a thing. When we see Elves, they always seem to be noble lords and ladies, not farmers or handymen! Give my regards to your father then, from one farmer to the other."
"You are too kind, my lady, but unfortunately, my father is no longer alive. I lost my family in the fall of Gondolin. It was a long time ago, so do not concern yourself."
"So you have no family and no spouse. But certainly you have many friends?"
Erestor, a little taken aback by this question, could not answer right away. Did he have friends? Yes, Lord Elrond was certainly a friend, but he was also the lord of Imladris, so Erestor kept a formal distance. Then there was - well. To his great surprise, Erestor realized that he was not able to name even one single friend.
He had hesitated long enough for the woman to understand. She realized that her innocent question had touched a sore spot, and got up very quickly.
"I will put the little one to bed now, my lords. Please stay here by the fire until you are dry and warm again, and I will prepare your beds. If there is anything you need, just yell."
She carried the child upstairs. Erestor followed her with his eyes, and he suddenly realized how tired he was.
"What did the woman ask?" Salin had followed the conversation with interest, and now he was a little concerned about the closed expression on Erestor's face. He had not understood a single word, but he recognized the sadness in Erestor's eyes.
"It is getting late. We should finish our meal and get ready for bed, it has been a long, hard journey," Erestor said, ignoring the question. The guards quickly emptied their bowls, just in time for Rhian to appear at the top of the stairs, calling them. She showed the Elves to their rooms and they all bowed their heads to thank her.
She gave Erestor one last thoughtful look when he was about to close the door behind him, and she wondered what could possibly be the benefit of being immortal if you had nobody to share eternity with.
Rhian shivered, but it was not because of the cold night air.
* * *
TBC
* * *¨
Author's notes: Happiness is... if you read through your chapter before you send it off to your beta and can correct the words "poodle" to "puddle" and save yourself from great embarrassment.
Beta’s notes: Ahahahaha! Shame - I’d have enjoyed that one immensely.