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 7
It was a lovely sunny day, and Glorfindel had immediately agreed when Erestor invited him to come for a walk and hear the last part of the story outside. The warrior had not slept a wink the previous night, and even now, he found it difficult to process what he had learned. So there had been another beloved in Erestor's past. Why did this knowledge hurt so much? Why could he not simply be happy that there had been a time when Erestor had not been lonely?
Erestor had loved that woman. This was obvious to Glorfindel, even though Erestor had not once used the word "love". Glorfindel had always believed himself to be the only one ever to possess Erestor's heart, but he had been wrong. And not only had she owned Erestor's love, no, she had also had a child with him. Another thing Glorfindel had to share, and he was not the Elf to share easily.
They sat down on a bench in Elrond's rose garden, and Erestor began to tell the last part of his story. The longer he talked, the more Glorfindel felt that his love for Erestor was being tested.
And he feared to fail.
* * *
Erestor knew something was wrong from the moment he caught sight of the cottage. He could not tell what it was, but something had changed. When he came closer, he saw that the pigsty had gone, replaced by a stable, and he could hear the neighing of horses. Why had Rhian given up on the pigs? She had been rather fond of them, he remembered.
He rode into the yard and dismounted. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the door opened, and Rhian's uncle appeared.
"Well met," Erestor said, bowing his head in greeting. The elderly man returned the greeting, but Erestor noticed that his usual cheerfulness was missing.
"Is Rhian on the fields?" the Elf asked, a question which caused the man to sigh.
"Erestor, my boy, come here and sit with me for a moment, we have some things to discuss."
Something was wrong, yes, very wrong, and a cold fear took possession of Erestor's heart. He sat down beside the man on the bench outside the cottage, and looked at him questioningly.
"It was the fever, Erestor, this last winter. Many of us caught it, and many died. Rhian and the children got it as well. She fought bravely, hoping to make it until March to see you one last time, but the illness was stronger. On the first day of the new year, we had to light her pyre."
"She is - dead?" Erestor croaked, and the man nodded sadly.
Dead. Could anything be more final than this? Rhian was mortal - a fact he had pushed aside all through the years. Mortal - this meant no Halls of Waiting, no rebirth, it meant a final cut, a farewell for ever, no chance of a reunion. It meant a turning point in his life.
Erestor felt as if he had been hit with a mace, his head spun and he felt a helpless anger rise in his chest. This was not fair! Who decided life and death? Námo? What reason did the Vala of Death have to take the little happiness he'd had? Why take the woman's life? A thought even more terrible crossed his mind, and Erestor dug his fingers deep into the man's arm.
"You said the children caught it as well - what happened to them? Are the boys..." He did not dare to speak the words aloud, but the man shook his head.
"The eldest finally recovered, and he's now living with me and the wife. He's a good lad, missing his mother terribly, of course, but we do all we can to give him a family. Your boy - now, that was amazing, he barely got a cough, and was up and bouncing within the week. They are both here."
A little guiltily, the man fiddled with the fastening of his shirt.
"Please don't think we took advantage, Erestor. It was Rhian's wish that we come and live here with the children, as her farm was bigger than ours."
Erestor did not answer. He did not care about the farm, or anything else. He only knew that a piece of his heart had been cut out, and that this wound hurt more than he thought he could bear. He thought he could still hear her laughter, and when he moved his head, he saw the bucket she had used to feed the pigs. Everything here was her, and to see all these things with the certain knowledge that she was gone and would never return was too much for Erestor. He got up, clenching his jaws and closing his fingers into fists, for he did not want to cry in front of the man.
Without a word, he crossed the yard and went to the fields, where he sat down. He buried his hands deep in the soil, and the feeling of the good earth calmed him a little. He began to sing a song of mourning, of loss and bereavement. The wind carried his voice over the fields and into the cottages of the other farmers, and they closed their windows and doors, saying a prayer, for they thought the haunting, terribly sad voice could not be of this world. Erestor hoped Rhian would hear his lament, wherever she might be now, as it was the last thing he could do for her. And maybe she would know, and understand, what he had never been able to tell her.
* * *
The boy had grown a lot since Erestor had last seen him, and he was already walking, which had forced the family to move every item within his reach on shelves and tables, because the little one was curious and pulled down everything he could get his little hands on.
Erestor watched him playing with the uncle's daughters. The two girls were obviously besotted with the child, and never tired of playing with him or telling him fairytales. Rhian's oldest son sat beside Erestor, snuggled up close to the Elf.
"I know this has come as a terrible shock, it was for all of us," the uncle began after he had filled his pipe, "but there are some things we need to discuss, Erestor. What shall happen with the children? Me and the wife would be happy to keep them, we'd love them like our own and you could visit your boy anytime you want. But as the little Elf is of your blood, the decision is yours."
The man leant a little closer and lowered his voice.
"Between you and me, Erestor - times here have become dangerous. The people of Breon want our land, and they are obsessed with Elves. They believe them to bring luck and wealth, and more than once, our king has sent out warriors to free some unfortunate Elf who had the bad luck to fall into their hands. I fear for the safety of your son. I'm a farmer, not a warrior, I couldn't protect him in the way that might be necessary."
Erestor frowned and thought about it for a moment.
"So you suggest I take him with me?"
The uncle nodded.
Take the child with him? Tell everybody in Imladris his secret? The thought terrified Erestor, but not as much as the thought that some evil might befall his little son. There was no question that he would take the little one with him, but how he would explain the situation back home, he had no idea.
Erestor turned to the other boy who had been following the conversation with big eyes.
"I promised your mother that I would be like a father to you. If you want to come with me and your brother to live with my kin, you are welcome to do so. But if you should decide to stay here with your uncle, I will not hold it against you. Please tell me, my boy, what is your wish? Speak freely and without fear."
The boy looked up at Erestor, chewing his lips. Though he loved the Elf and would miss his baby brother very much, he felt at home here. This was his mother's house, and he didn't want to leave his home and her things. His uncle and aunt were very kind to him, and he had his own horse now. So the child shook his head.
"I want to stay here," he whispered, hoping that Erestor wouldn't be angry with him. The Elf smiled, and pressed a gentle kiss on the child's head.
"Then you may, little one," he said, "but don't forget, if you ever need me, I will be there for you."
He was rewarded with a happy smile, and the uncle ruffled the boy's hair.
"Good lad, and so brave, just like his mother! So it's decided then, he stays with us, and you take your boy with you."
He drew on his pipe, then sighed sadly.
"We will miss him. He's a special boy, always cheerful and friendly, never moody or stubborn. You will find great joy in his company."
Erestor stared at the Elfling. He loved the child, there could be no doubt about it, but for Erestor, he was more of a responsibility than a joy, and he doubted that this would ever change. He was a skilled warrior and an excellent advisor. But as a parent, so Erestor felt, he would be a complete failure.
* * *
The journey from Osgiliath to Rivendell took them almost two months. Erestor had sent word to Lord Elrond that he needed a strong guard to accompany him back to Imladris, conveniently 'forgetting' to mention that he would not be travelling alone.
Had he been on his own, the journey would have taken him a month, but he could not risk it alone with the child. This aside, he could not ride as fast or as long with the little one, for the boy tired quickly.
It would have been easy to tell the guards that this was his son, and that he was bringing him home to live with him. None of the warriors would have asked any further questions. But somehow Erestor couldn't bring himself to tell the truth. It had taken Taldor, once again the captain of the guards, one glance to know whose child this was, but he did not comment. However, when Erestor muttered something about an "orphaned child" who had “lost his parents to the fever", his eyebrows arched towards his hairline, and he shook his head.
Only two more days, then they would arrive in Imladris. Erestor sat by the fire, holding the sleeping child in his arms. The little one had been remarkable, he never complained or whined, as if he understood that Erestor would not put him through this ordeal without need. Throughout the journey, Erestor had considered every aspect of the situation, and he had finally come to a decision: he was no father. Yes, he loved the child, but he knew he would never be able to show this love, or replace the boy’s mother. Erestor remembered his own childhood, how he had basked in the love of his family, and he did not want the little one to grow up with a stern, boring advisor. There should be laughter in the child's life, and a lot of love. Things, so Erestor had convinced himself, he could not give his son.
Erestor knew that there would be many a family in Imladris more than happy to raise the little boy as their own. Nobody knew that he was half-elven, and nobody knew of Erestor's involvement, save the three Elves who had accompanied him on that fateful trip seven years ago. But Erestor was certain they would never speak of this. The little one would grow up in a loving family, and Erestor, though never officially connected to his son, would see him grow up.
Erestor did not realise that his love for the boy ran deeper than that. He could not know that many a night would come when he would curse himself for giving up the child, for being a coward and not telling his son the truth. And he could not know that he was capable of giving love, that he could have been a good father to the child.
It took centuries and the love of Glorfindel to open Erestor's heart.
* * *
Glorfindel took a deep breath. He knew he should say something comforting now, but he was at loss for words. When he sensed Erestor's worried gaze on him, he ran his hand through his hair, and cleared his throat.
"This is... I really do not know what to say. So you never told the boy that he is your son? He does not know who his mother is and where he comes from?"
Erestor shook his head and stared down at the grass.
"This was a very wrong thing to do, Erestor. He had a right to know. How can we know where we are going to if we do not know where we come from?"
The advisor did not move.
"He also has a right to be happy," he whispered, "and he is happy. What good would it do if I told him that he lost his mother to the fever? That I was too much of a coward to look after him? Would this make him happier? I doubt it. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but at least I did not hurt him. He has loving parents and never missed out on anything. I often regretted that I gave him up, but I never regretted that I ensured his happiness."
For a while, the two sat in silence. It was a beautiful spring day, and Imladris had put on her most beautiful green gown. Glorfindel, however, would have preferred storm and hail, to suit his mood. When he turned to look at Erestor, he saw the lost expression on the advisor's face. The warrior reached out, put his arm around Erestor's shoulders and pulled him closer, and he would not rest until Erestor's head was safely nestled on his shoulder.
"I am sorry for your loss, Erestor, and I am sorry that I never met Rhian. She sounds like a wonderful person, and I am glad that you found happiness with her. I do not agree with the way you dealt with the situation, but I am not the one to judge. I do not know how I would have acted had I been in your place. Maybe, one day, you could try to find your son, and tell him the truth. Who knows - maybe he would welcome you in his life?"
Erestor did not answer, just rubbed his cheek on the soft velvet of Glorfindel's jerkin. Suddenly, the warrior had an idea - it was a crazy idea, and if the situation had not been so grave, he would have chuckled.
"Erestor - pray tell - is your son maybe still here? Do I even know him?"
The advisor sat straight up, and his face flushed crimson.
"Fin, I do not think that..."
"Estorel, see? There is your ada and your sia!"
Erestor's confession was interrupted by the arrival of Melpomaen, who had been looking after Estorel while Erestor and Glorfindel took their walk. The child sat on his shoulders, giggling wildly, pulling on the Elf's braids and yelling "Horsie! Horsie!" over and over again. Glorfindel snorted - if there was one Elf with bad timing, it was Melpomaen. Leave it to him to turn up at the worst possible moment!
"Sia! Sia!" Estorel called out when he saw Erestor, and waved. This was not a very clever thing to do, since he lost hold of his "horse" and fell off Melpomaen's shoulders. Erestor and Glorfindel both jumped up when they saw the child fall, but Melpomaen was quick and grabbed Estorel before the Elfling hit the ground.
"He might be the biggest gossip in Imladris, but his reflexes are extraordinary," Glorfindel muttered.
Melpomaen carried the Elfling over to his parents, and Estorel reached out for Glorfindel, who took his son and cuddled him, blowing a raspberry on the child's neck. Estorel giggled again, and pulled on Glorfindel's braids, a game he never seemed to tire of.
"Thank you for looking after Estorel, Melpomaen," Erestor said, smiling at the young advisor.
"Oh, no need to thank me, Master Erestor, it is always great fun to look after the little one. I regret that I have to return him to you, but Lord Elrond asked for me, and I cannot take him with me."
"That is fine, Melpomaen, we were about to return to the Last Homely House, anyway," Glorfindel replied, and then pretended to bite Estorel's nose off, eliciting another giggle from his son.
"Master Erestor, I have sorted the mail for you, and put the schedule for next week on your desk. If you wish to dictate any replies, please tell me, I would love to help you out."
"Thank you for your kind offer, Melpomaen, should I need your help I will certainly let you know."
Melpomaen blushed, and Glorfindel had to bury his face in Estorel's hair to hide a grin. The young advisor hero-worshipped Erestor greatly, an admiration Erestor found a little irritating at times.
Melpomaen bowed, then he reached out to ruffle Estorel's hair.
"Have a good day, you little rascal, and try not to bite anybody while I am away," he joked, and the child laughed. Glorfindel was glad that Estorel liked Melpomaen, for the child was very suspicious and it was not easy to find a childminder whom his son accepted. But Melpomaen, Glorfindel decided, looked harmless enough. There was usually a smile on his open, fresh face, and the gentle brown eyes knew no falseness.
The gentle brown eyes?
It was a good thing Estorel had a firm grip on his ada, for Glorfindel might have dropped the child. He swayed, and feared he might faint any moment.
Melpomaen, who felt Glorfindel's dumbfounded gaze on him, blushed again, and wondered what he had done to cause such a reaction. Lord Glorfindel was not an Elf anybody would willingly mess with, especially not Melpomaen, who looked like a sparrow beside the intimidating Balrog-slayer.
"My lord - did I say anything wrong? If so, my deepest apologies, it was not my intention to..." he began, but Glorfindel, who tried fervently to regain his composure, cut him off.
"Ah no, you have done nothing wrong. I just had an idea, and I wonder... Melpomaen, would you like to join us for dinner this evening? Lindir has composed some new songs which he will present to us, Lord Elrond and some council members. I know that you love music, so what do you say: would you like to come?"
Melpomaen, taken completely by surprise, blushed even more, and his heart missed a beat. He looked to Erestor, who had a very odd expression on his face. Maybe the advisor disapproved of the invitation?
"Master Erestor... I do not want to intrude... if you prefer that I do not come... it really is not necessary..." he stuttered, but Erestor shook his head.
"You are very welcome to join us, Melpomaen. I would be happy if you could come. Lindir has a beautiful voice, and what better way to welcome spring than by sharing a merry song?"
"Erestor is right, Melpomaen. In fact we would both be honoured if you would spend more time with us. Elves are born to be merry and share laughter, not to hide themselves away in their chambers. Do join us anytime you like, penneth - you will always be welcome."
Melpomaen smiled brightly, and if it had not been for the presence of Erestor, he would have jumped up and down in excitement.
"Thank you, thank you! Why, yes, of course, I will be there, thank you again, oh I cannot wait, I will be there, count on me, thank you, thank you!"
With that, he turned around, and all but ran back to the Last Homely House, where Elrond already waited for him with a reprimand for being late again.
Erestor's eyes followed Melpomaen until the young advisor disappeared through the gate. Then he turned to Glorfindel, and the warrior could see that he was crying. Erestor pressed a kiss on Glorfindel's lips, then stroked his cheek lovingly.
"Thank you, Fin," he simply said.
"No need to thank me," Glorfindel grumbled, lifting Estorel onto his shoulders, "I always said that Estorel should not grow up an only child."
With that, he headed back to the Last Homely House, accompanied by Estorel's cheerful "Horsie! Horsie!" cries and Erestor's eternal love.
* * *
THE END