Title & Chapter Number: One Step Closer Trilogy 2: Whirlwind 2/2
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Hith a Naur
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from the Tolkien world. They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Warnings:
Betas: Silvara, the most patient beta in existence...
Cast: Glorfindel/Erestor
Timeline: October 25 - December 25 3018 TA
Spoilers: None
Summary: Glorfindel is concerned that Legolas has been chosen for the Quest of the One Ring. Erestor attempts to keep the Balrog-slayer calm, but Glorfindel has a secret he has kept for thousands of years.
Notes: This came about because of an innocent... I assume *laughs*... email from Morgana about "The Color of Love Trilogy" and asked about a sequel for "Thought You Were History". I thought about it and agreed that the stories were not complete and chose to create 2 more arcs, making a trilogy of trilogies. The first trilogy was based on 3 Celine Dion songs that inspired them, and this arc is no different. The 3 fics in this arc are inspired by Linkin Park's music. I hope everyone enjoys it.
The muted clang of dulled training blades rang out across the field as Glorfindel and Gildor traded an extended series of volleys and feints. The past four days out on the patrol had been extremely taxing on the Seneschal, and the best way he knew to unwind was with a friendly sparring match. The old Noldo had been happy to oblige, and so far, the two seemed equally matched. For the better part of an hour, neither had been able to land a blow.
"You seem distracted," Gildor said offhandedly. "Usually, you'd be two touches up on me by now. That cushy Seneschal position dulling your warrior's edge?" he joked.
Glorfindel parried automatically, returning with a textbook counterattack that Gildor spotted easily. The Elda registered suddenly that his opponent had said something. "What? Oh, yes, I suppose I am."
"So much the better for me, then!" the dark-haired Elf replied jovially.
"Really?" Glorfindel replied with a touch of his old self. "Then why are we still tied at zero?"
"Because my Uncle Maedhros was a better fighter than he was a teacher," Gildor replied with a playful gleam in his eye. He broke off his latest attack and stepped back, making a show of transferring his sword from his left to his right hand. When the Noldo reengaged, Glorfindel was instantly pushed to the defensive and all distractions were chased from his mind as he frantically parried, looking for an opening.
Suddenly, he saw one. Gildor's left side was wide open. He committed his attack, and immediately knew he'd been duped. It was an obvious ploy, and had the Seneschal been fully alert, he would never have fallen for it. Gildor spun quickly, blocking Glorfindel's blade from the inside. Before the Elda could retaliate, Gildor reversed his strike and scored a thorough hit against Glorfindel's exposed chest, dancing away before the blond recovered.
Gildor's laughter was cut short by Glorfindel's enraged howl. Glorfindel rushed the Noldo, blade firmly in both hands. Gildor's good humor evaporated into a sudden fear as he was driven back again and again by the Seneschal's powerful swings. He had the sudden realization that Glorfindel wasn't faking this; he was after Gildor in earnest.
Gildor did not want to hurt Glorfindel, but he was rapidly running out of options as his advances were repeatedly beaten back. Finally, he picked his shot. Gripping his sword tightly, he pointed the tip straight up and moved to club the Elda on the side of the head with the hilt. It should have worked, but Glorfindel, in his fit, seemed possessed with the speed and power of the Valar. He spun in toward Gildor, blocking the Noldo's elbow with his forearm and smashing his elbow back into Gildor's face.
But Glorfindel didn't stop moving. He reversed direction, planting his left foot just in front of his right and pivoting toward Gildor's sword arm. He disarmed the Elf by shoving his shoulder into Gildor's wrist and used the momentum to push the dark-haired elf backward. At the same time, he hooked his right foot around Gildor's ankles and swept the Noldo to the ground.
The entire exchange took less than two seconds.
Gildor shook his dazed head and looked up from his unglamorous position on the ground. "Okay, Glorfindel, I yield," he said, forcing a laugh, even though his chest still ached from the impact.
Glorfindel did not accept the surrender; he gave no sign that he'd even heard at all. He stepped beside Gildor, braced his left hand on the bottom of the sword, and drove the dulled point of the blade straight down toward the Noldo's chest.
Gildor barely had time to react. He clapped his hands together, trapping the flat of the blade between his palms. Had the sword been sharp, he would likely have lost fingers in the maneuver. The Elda kept pushing down, trying to break Gildor's grip. Knowing that even a dulled point would impale him with the force that Glorfindel was using, Gildor tried desperately to get through to the entranced Seneschal.
"Glorfindel, I yield! It's *over*!" Gildor knew his voice was quivering and weak. He was literally begging for his life, something that an Elf, especially an Elf of the House of Finrod, would never conceive of doing. It was interesting how certain circumstances could lay waste to Ages of preconceptions. "Damn you, Glorfindel, you've made your point! Stop this!"
The Elda froze, blinking several times as though taking stock of his surroundings. He looked down at Gildor and a look of horror appeared on his face. Glorfindel tossed the training sword away and ran, full-speed, into the woods beyond the sparring field. He ran blindly, trying to outrun demons that lay deep in his own heart. As the woods of Imladris flew by him in a blur, Glorfindel's mind became a whirlwind of thoughts, memories of the weeks past.
It had all begun with his temper, his anger becoming harder to keep in check. Rougher training sessions, harsher scolding of the house staff. Glorfindel dodged a tree and effortlessly avoided a large fallen branch. Then, when he had found out Thranduil was to arrive, he had lashed out at Erestor.
Once Thranduil had arrived, though, things just slipped. He snapped at Elladan all the time, sometimes yelling at the young Peredhel in the halls when they met. Then the training session with Elrohir.
He had hurt the young twin. Not physically, but he had humiliated him in front of his brother and his comrades. He had called him names and beaten his self-esteem, attacking his technique and his training habits. The look in those grey eyes, the panic and anguish, had cut through the fog that would envelope him and he stormed off. He knew Elrohir thought it was his fault, but it hadn't been...
Glorfindel panted with his exertion, his muscles screaming for relief, but he kept running. The next sign that things were progressing down a dark path came while he was bathing late one night. Lindir had come into the bathing chamber to replenish the supplies. He knew the silver-haired Elf had thought him asleep in the pool, and he had moved quietly. His senses, though, were in that dark fog --almost like smoke -- and he instinctively reached for the dagger he always kept with him. It was only at the last moment that his mind had cleared and he had averted his aim, the blade sinking into the wooden door frame next to his friend.
Lindir had quickly exited the room and Glorfindel became enraged in his embarrassment. He knew he needed help; something was consuming him, taking him over slowly but surely. He broke free of the wood and realized he had run to the end of the lands Elrond claimed as Rivendell. For a moment, his mind was still. He always felt this pull, this need to leave his home and his family. He wanted to journey East. And he knew what lay East.
So he fought.
Until five nights ago, when he made the swap in the duty roster. He had switched himself for Elrohir on the extended patrol for a reason. He had awakened to find himself straddling his sleeping lover's form... a blade pressed dangerously close to the pale neck covered in dark, silken hair.
He had to get away. Away from all he loved. He had mutilated the Orcs they had found, taking out his rage and hatred. He knew he scared his men, the fear was clear enough in Elladan's eyes. But, he needed the release. Peace only came for a few short hours.
Now he had almost killed Gildor. He could not risk this any longer. He needed help. He would speak with Elrond as soon as he could. After the Fellowship left, he would seek out his friend, his Healer, and beg him to rid his heart and soul of this darkness.
~*~*~*~
Erestor made his way quickly through the winding halls of the Last Homely House. Glorfindel had been avoiding him for the past few weeks, never sleeping in their bed and never speaking to him unless there was at least one other person in the room. He missed his lover and wanted to know just what he had done to upset the Elda.
Lindir had let Erestor know that Glorfindel had finally returned to their chambers for something and Erestor took this chance head on. He needed answers.
The dark-haired Elf swept into the room he had occupied with Glorfindel for so long and silently latched the door. Standing by the wardrobe was the blond Elf, swiftly packing a bag.
"Going somewhere?" Erestor asked with an icy edge to his voice. He was sick of this game.
Glorfindel started and looked at the Noldo with wide, frightened blue eyes. "Yes. I thought I would stay in one of the guest rooms for a few weeks." He continued to stuff clothing into the pack.
"Were you planning on informing me that our living arrangement was going to change? Or was I to find out from Gildor or Lindir?"
The Balrog-slayer threw the pack down and turned on the Councilor. "Erestor, we have made no pledge to one another, no promises! I need space, I need to just... be away from you!" he cried out.
Erestor felt a lump form in his throat. "Glorfindel, if this is about that night... I told you, it was all right."
"No! This isn't about that night. Well, yes it is, as well as a number of other things!" Glorfindel looked at his lover pleadingly. "I need to be as far from you as possible, meleth-nin. You," he said quietly, "bring out the worst in me, it seems."
The Imladris Lord gasped, recoiling as if he had been struck. "Glorfindel! How can you *say* such a thing?! The worst in you? I have hardly been around you! You have this whole household on their guard, everyone short of Elrond is terrified of you. Please," he begged. "Please, tell me what is happening."
Glorfindel's shoulders sagged in defeat. "I do not know, Erestor. All I know is I need to move out of this room... before I hurt you."
Erestor advanced on Glorfindel, holding out his hand to him. "You would not hurt me, my Lord. You never have. Why should you start now?"
The Elda took a few step away from Erestor, feeling trapped as his back came in contact with the cold stone of the wall. "Erestor, stay away from me." He hissed when the cool hand of his long-time lover touched his hip. "I am not myself!" he hollered. Erestor's grip tightened and the fog returned to Glorfindel's mind.
He was trapped. He was angry. Why wouldn't he back off?! Why wouldn't he leave him be? He needed away, he needed to run from him, run from the suffocating room. He acted instinctively.
His right hand swung from its position at his thigh, swinging high and with terrible force. He connected with Erestor's jaw, the momentum of the impact sending the shocked Noldo flying across the room, landing on his rear. Erestor's hand flew up to his face, tears threatening to spill from his huge, liquid eyes.
Glorfindel took a step toward him, dread and shame clouding his features. "Erestor, I-"
The proud Councilor, who had fought beside the Balrog-slayer and the Lord of Imladris at Dagorlad and at the Siege of Barad-dur, recoiled from his lover and scrambled back away from him. "Leave, Glorfindel of Gondolin. Leave this room and do not come back."
Erestor was surprised at the even tone of his voice when he could barely hold back the tears of pain and heartbreak at being struck by someone he thought he could trust with his life. Glorfindel nodded once, grabbed his pack and left the room. Erestor got up slowly, his head still reeling from the blow, and calmly walked into his bathing chamber, latching it once he was safely inside.
~*~*~*~
On his way out the door, Glorfindel had run into the twins. He instructed them to aid Erestor, not telling them why the Councilor would need their help. After he left them, though, he headed for Elrond's study. This could not wait anymore.
He burst through the door, shocking the Elf-lord who regarded him with a wary expression.
"Glorfindel?" The Seneschal was pale, all blood and warmth lost from his face. He was breathing quickly, his eyes wide with fear. "What has happened, meldir?" Elrond approached him, but Glorfindel shied away, shaking his head.
"Do not come near me, my Lord. I have just sent Erestor across the room of our quarters after he placed his hand on me." Glorfindel took in a shuddering breath. "Elrond, something is terribly wrong with me. I feel a darkness, a black nothingness that is consuming me -- mind, heart and soul. Please, you *must* help me!"
Elrond came closer to Glorfindel. "I need to touch you, I need to sense what it is in you before I can even begin to help. Will you allow me to?"
For a moment, his old friend looked like a frightened deer, taut as a bowstring and ready to fly out the door. Then, he relented, swaying slightly on his feet, nodding his head.
"Sit, Glorfindel."
The Elda did as instructed, seating himself on the small sofa in the office. Elrond simply placed his hand on Glorfindel's head, closing his eyes for a moment and seeking what was bothering the Elf.
He immediately snatched back his hand, his own eyes wide and panicked. He sensed frenzied emotions, disjointed thoughts and an anger so deep, so white-hot that the Peredhel feared for the people he protected. His friend was not well, his spirit was being lost in a directionless, coreless evil.
With a voice thick with emotion, he spoke softly. "I cannot help you, meldir. This is beyond my power."
"What am I to do, my Lord?" Large, sad eyes met his clouded grey gaze.
He looked so lost, so desperate. Elrond nodded, deciding the only one who could advise him would need to be contacted. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the familiar silver glow he knew so well. Casting his mind out, he grasped at the cool mind that emanated knowledge and serenity. When he opened his eyes, he saw Celeborn's bedroom, dappled in the late afternoon sunlight.
/Elrond?/
/Yes, my Lord. I am in need of your counsel./
Elrond could feel Celeborn's immediate apprehension. The Imladris Elf rarely used this intimate form of communication with him. /It must be dire to Farspeak me, Elrond./
The Peredhel sent a bundle of thoughts and images to the silver Elf-lord, relaying by thought what was happening in his home. /I do not know what to do. I cannot help him./
In his home in Lothlorien, Celeborn's gaze fell to Haldir, who was sprawled out across the great bed. He smiled, his metallic silver eyes blazing at his lover. "You must travel the road to Imladris, melethron," he said slowly. "You will meet Lord Glorfindel and bring him here. He is in need of our help."
The March Warden quickly stood, nodding to his love and walked out of the room. Celeborn returned his thoughts to Elrond.
/I am sending Haldir to meet Glorfindel. Send him here, on the main road, and I will repair what I can. If I can. I make no promises, meldir. He has a long battle ahead of him, but I will try as best I can. Send him now, Haldir has already left./
Celeborn severed the connection and Elrond's eyes cleared. He looked down at the forlorn Seneschal. "Go. Take Asfaloth and ride hard to Lorien. Haldir will meet you along the main road. Celeborn will help you, as I cannot."
~*~*~*~
Elrond entered his Councilor's room to find his sons standing before a closed door. Elladan was pleading with the occupant to come out, that they were there to help him.
"Elladan. Elrohir. Leave us."
It was an order, not a request, and the twins quickly vacated the room. Elrond sighed, feeling exhausted and worn thin. He came up to the door and in a steady, quiet voice said, "Erestor. Open this door."
After a moment, the latch withdrew and his old lover slinked out of the bathing chamber. Elrond drew in a quick breath. Erestor's right cheek was already marked with a hand-sized bruise, spreading from the top of his cheek bone to the lower portion of his jaw. The force Glorfindel had to strike with was incredible. The Noldo's eyes were red-rimmed and tear tracks could be seen on the pale face.
"He has been sent to Lothlorien, Erestor. Celeborn will take care of him."
Erestor nodded, walking to the bed and seating himself, the blank look never leaving his eyes.
"Would you like anything?" A shake of the head. "Would you like to compose a letter to be sent to him upon his arrival?" Another shake of the head. Elrond let out an exasperated sigh. "Erestor, please, say something."
Erestor looked up at his friend, sniffed slightly, and spoke. "I would rather I never saw his face again, my Lord. I wish to return to my previous chambers until such time as you travel over the Sea. Then, I wish to accompany you."
"Meldir, do not be so rash. There is something wrong with his heart, he needs time to heal..." He trailed off as Erestor shook his head.
"No, Elrond. I can never trust him again. I cannot... I just cannot. Will you permit my wishes?"
Reaching up to cup Erestor's unmarked cheek, Elrond nodded solemnly. "Of course. I will have Lindir help move your possessions."
Erestor nodded. "If you don't mind, my Lord, I would like some time alone. I do not feel that I will make it to the evening meal. I hope you and the twins do not mind."
Elrond stood up and nodded. "Take all the time you need. Nothing is pressing now that the Company has left us and the Quest has begun. Now, we simply wait. If you need me, though, you are welcome to come to my chamber -- day or night."
Erestor nodded.
"My arms, and bed, are still open to you should you need a comforting presence."
The dark-haired Elf smiled slightly. To anyone else, that may have sounded like a proposition. Erestor knew better. Elrond was offering companionship, someone to drive away the nightmares and sadness. "Thank you, Elrond."
The Healer nodded and slowly left the room. Erestor looked around, taking stock of the room and how cold it seemed without Glorfindel's bright, warm presence.
Then the Councilor hung his head in his hands and silently wept.
End "Whirlwind"
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