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 3
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
In my life I loved you more.
"There are places I remember" – Johnny Cash (Orig.: The Beatles)
* * *
"I did not know you were that lonely," Glorfindel whispered, and hugged Erestor a little closer. The advisor shrugged. "Up to that point, I had never considered myself lonely. Alone, yes. But willingly so. I have never been one to seek the company of many. Some consider sitting in a corner, reading a book, a sign of loneliness. But I always found that it was I who could keep myself the best company. It is true, though, that I had no friends, no close confidants. I do not think I really missed them."
Glorfindel shook his head.
"Erestor, this is not something an Elf should ever say. We are born to be merry, to gather and share our laughter and love."
"Rabbit, however, spent millennia on his own."
"Rabbit is a Plains Elf."
"So am I."
"No, you are the thorn in my side. And now continue your tale, beloved; I am still waiting for the shocking revelation."
Erestor kissed Glorfindel's jaw, then he nodded.
"Very well then. For the following two days..."
* * *
For the following two days the downpour continued. Outside, the water was high, inside, the spirits were low. The heavy rain had not kept various neighbours and friends of Rhian from visiting the farm. One asked for a sack of flour, another desperately needed a pair of scissors. They brought wives and children. And all stood in the living room and stared at the Elves. Erestor felt like a rare animal in a travelling show. 'I guess I should be grateful they do not try to feed me dry bread or peanuts', he thought, and held himself as straight and proud as possible, disapproval radiating from him like heat from an oven.
Erestor, who valued his solitude above anything, suffered greatly under the forced closeness with these strangers. He also became weary of his guards. When their discussion once more turned to the advantages of eagle over hawk feathers for arrows, the advisor fled the place. He grabbed his cloak and slipped out of the door.
Erestor took a deep breath of the cold evening air. What a relief! He sat down on a small bench outside of the house, sheltered from the rain by the eaves, and tried to ignore the muffled voices of the three Elves in the living room. How far away was his home - at this time of the day, everybody would be gathered in the Great Hall, listening to tales or the singing of a minstrel. There would be laughter and merriment. Erestor began to miss Imladris - until he remembered that he never joined in the singing, and that jokes were never told to him. He would sit in his chair, a dark spot in an otherwise colourful picture. Once in a while, Elrond would politely address him, and Erestor would nod and answer, as was expected of him.
The door opened, and Rhian appeared, wrapped in a thick cloak and carrying a heavy bucket. Erestor got up and stepped aside so she would not bump into him or spill the odd smelling contents of the bucket over his boots.
"My lady - you should not go out in weather like this."
She put the bucket down and closed the door, then she looked up at him. Erestor was tall, even for an Elf, and she had to crane her neck to see his face.
"The pigs need to be fed come rain, come sunshine, Master Erestor."
"Then let me at least carry this bucket for you."
Erestor had no idea why he had offered his help. He loathed pigs and had had no intention of wading through the mud in the pouring rain.
"Thank you," she simply said, and led the way, holding up a lantern. Erestor had no choice but to grab the bucket and follow her. By the time they reached the pigsty, he was soaked to the skin, and he rushed inside as soon as Rhian opened the door. It was warm, and Erestor sniffed. He had expected stench, but there was only the comfortable smell of straw and animal. Three pigs were dozing lazily, but when they heard their mistress, they became lively and rushed towards the trough. Rhian filled it with the swill Erestor had brought, and the animals began to eat greedily.
"Come here pets, here's your dinner. Pig, here, here, come, and you, pig, don't push your brother, there's enough for all of you."
Erestor watched the scene, and oddly enough, his grumpy mood dissipated. There was something comforting about the sty, the animals, and, yes, also about the woman. Her life must be hard compared to his, but yet, she seemed to be happy. Elrond had never asked him to feed pigs or wipe the snotty nose of a child. He had entrusted him with serious deeds, confided in him, and loaded great responsibilities on Erestor's shoulders. The advisor honoured and appreciated this trust - but it had not made him happy.
"They are still young," Rhian said, lovingly patting one of the pigs on his snout. "And they are very friendly as well. Pigs can be moody, you know. This one here is grumpy in the morning, and that one gets nervous when I don't talk to him for a couple of minutes a day. I’ve grown quite fond of them - I'm afraid once the time comes, I will not have the heart to see them slaughtered."
She laughed, and Erestor had to smile as well.
"Lord Elrond will be amazed by the wealth of knowledge regarding pigs I have acquired on my travels," he said.
"What is he like? Lord Elrond, I mean."
Erestor was a little surprised by this question, and took time to think of a suitable answer.
"He is wise, kind and noble. A star among our people."
Rhian upended the bucket again and shook it to empty out the last bit of swill, then she shrugged.
"I find it scary, you know," she said, "that he's still alive, and probably still looks the same as he always did, while his brother has been dead so many centuries."
"Scary?" Erestor arched an eyebrow. "It was Elros' free choice, he wished to be counted among men."
She turned around, the bucket still in her hand, and looked at Erestor, raising her eyebrows in turn.
"You are many millennia old, I suppose, yet you look my age. When I am dead and my son is an old man, you will still look the same, your face as fair as today, and nothing will have changed. This is scary, yes. Imagine yourself in my place, Master Erestor."
Erestor, even with the best of wills, could not imagine how it was to be a mortal farmer, so he kept quiet and resorted to frowning. Rhian took the lantern, and they left the sty to return to the small house. The rain had eased off a little in the meantime. Erestor, whose nature, in different circumstances, would have led him to brood about mortality and eternity, instead found his thoughts going in circles over a rather trivial thing: that she had called him fair.
* * *
The next morning, the rain had ceased, and the first shy sunbeams peeked through the clouds. Taldor and Farlin used the improved weather for a bath in the fountain beside the garden. Rhian, who was on her way to hang out some washing, stopped dead in her tracks and almost dropped her basket of laundry at the sight of them.
The two Elves were naked, and the taller one was washing his friend’s long, dark hair. They seemed totally oblivious to any onlookers, and Rhian decided that this was too lovely a sight to miss. What beautiful creatures they were! Their bodies were perfect and they moved with an elegance and grace she had never seen in a man. Now the younger one reached up and tugged on one of his friend's braids, and the tall warrior bent down. Rhian didn't know what amazed her more: that the two male Elves kissed, or that she was graced with a view of a perfect, pert backside.
Taldor and Farlin now realized they were not alone, and Farlin turned around, giving her a friendly wave. Rhian waved back, trying hard to keep her gaze at least level with the Elf’s chest. If her neighbours knew that she not only had Elves in her house, but naked ones at that, half of Osgiliath would turn up on her doorstep, and it was embarrassing enough as it was.
Rhian was distracted from her musings by loud voices and the excited chatter of children. She turned around and saw Erestor, cornered by her uncle, his wife and their two little girls. While the Elf obviously answered their curious questions politely, it was also clear that he felt uncomfortable. Their eyes met, and Rhian walked over to her visitors, forgetting all about the washing.
"Uncle! How good to see you! How's it going? Did the storm cause any damage?"
Erestor let out a sigh of relief when Rhian's cheerful voice interrupted the elderly man’s flood of words. He did not wish to be impolite to his host’s relatives, but the staring of the children and the questions of the man had become very annoying.
Rhian winked at him, and shooed her uncle, aunt and cousins inside of the cottage, where the two little girls immediately attached themselves to Sarin. The Elf sat on the hearth rug with Rhian's son, making a tower with the little one’s building blocks. The little boy smashed down the tower, giggling loudly, and Sarin rebuilt it. Neither he nor the boy seemed to weary of this game.
Erestor, having reached the limit of his tolerance for children and mortals, turned on his heel and headed for the fields.
* * *
Rhian's uncle and aunt left before sunset. Taldor and Farlin retired soon after, feigning great tiredness, and Rhian suspected that they would continue what they had started during their bath in the morning. Sarin, feeling awkward in the presence of the taciturn advisor, made his farewells and took himself off to their chamber soon after, and so Erestor was alone with Rhian. The two sat in silence, the Elf writing down the happenings of the day in his diary, the woman sewing.
After a while, Rhian got up to put more logs on the fire. Once she was satisfied with the blaze, she walked over to Erestor's table and sat down beside the Elf, who glanced up, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.
"I'm sorry, Master Erestor. I feel I should apologize for my neighbours and family. They are good people, just very curious. Our lives are very plain, your presence here has caused quite a stir."
Erestor clenched his jaw. He was grateful for her help, but also upset about the open curiosity and rude staring he had experienced during the last few days.
"My lady, there is no need for you to apologize. I simply fail to see what could possibly be so exciting about three warriors and an advisor."
"There's nothing interesting about warriors and advisors, but about four Elves. We don't see such fair folk around here too often."
There it was again, the unsettling word, and this time, Erestor did not ignore the remark.
"My lady, I can assure you that, among our own people, none of us is considered to be of unusual beauty."
"This might be, but you are not among your own people right now. Master Erestor - do you consider me fair?"
Erestor opened his mouth to tell a courteous lie, but one look into the woman's eyes made it clear that he would not get away with any sweet talk, so he lowered his gaze and murmured: "You are not unfair, my lady, but not fair by the standards of my people, either."
She didn't seem to take offense, but took his hands instead.
"Thank you for being honest. Don't fear that you hurt me, I know that we must look rather unattractive in your eyes. I'm considered fairly good looking. But I've borne two children, worked all my life on the fields and known great sorrow. All these things have left their marks on my body. And I'm proud of these marks, just like a warrior who is proud of a scar he received in a battle. I'm not ashamed of who I am. And you shouldn't be ashamed, either. Last time I looked, being fair was not an offense."
For a brief moment, Erestor had an odd feeling of being younger than she was, but he shook it off. He looked up, and there was a smile in her eyes.
"So you consider me fair then, my lady?" he asked jokingly, partly from a wish to get over this awkward moment and partly out of curiosity. She studied him, then she nodded.
"Your nose is a little too long. And you should smile more often. But yes, you are very fair."
Erestor looked down at the hands that still held his. They were small but strong, rough and red from the work, and there was a burn on one of her palms. It must have happened in the morning, while she cooked breakfast. The delicate wrists made an odd contrast, they were more fitting for a noble lady. The Elf realized that he was drawing gentle circles on her wrists with his thumbs, and immediately let go of her hands.
Rhian nodded, then she got up. She put needle and thread back in a small basked and plumped up the cushions in the rocking chair. Finally, she lit a candle and looked at Erestor.
"I'm going to bed now," she announced, and began to climb the stairs. Halfway, she stopped, and turned around to Erestor, who had not continued writing in his diary, but followed each of her movements with his eyes.
"Would you like to join me?"
The Elf looked at her, then down at his diary, and finally out of the window. He could see the sty from where he sat.
Erestor put his diary in his bag, then he followed Rhian up the stairs.
* * *
TBC