This story has initially been published in 2016, as an attempt at completing a drabble challenge. I've decided to put it back here, where it belongs.

No pairings, just Erestor, Glorfindel, and something like friendship.

This story is consistent with my 'The Seven Gates', although the story hasn't (yet) reached a point where all references are understandable.

Enjoy! I'll post the rest within short intervals.


- dusk -

A streamlet, running merrily, seemed to quiesce; the colours of summer were fading, the shadows were lengthening and the darkness deepening; flying on wings of cool evening breeze, silent night fell: a shadowy king claiming his realm.

Through blackening fields he ran, draped in the fine silk that was freedom (and loneliness).

His hair a misty cloud of smoke, billowing in fresh air, his eyes two twinkling stars: bright and distant. Barefoot, he raced amongst the shadows, skin gleaming like moonlight as he disappeared in the woods.

That fine skin? Marred? Impossible.

That light in his grey eyes? Fading? Nonsense.

That fëa of pure nobility – that of a wild kind – blessed? Ludicrous...

And yet he was.


- joy -

"Erestor? Is that truly you?"

He did his best to remain in the shadows, his shelter the most spectacular piece of architecture he could suddenly find in the court. In vain.

(Of course, it took him a certain kind of talent – lack of it? - to assume that a fountain could possibly hide him from Laurefindil.)

Then, of course, he had no choice but to grind his teeth and smile, dragging himself along half the length of King Ereinion's gardens; to face the tall figure clad in white, and not in gold.

"Erestor, my dear friend!" Laurefindil grabbed both his hands, then embraced him with fondness.

There were voices, whispering in awe. There were faces, watching, pondering – counting the braids in his hair for all he cared -, there were fingers pointing, then waves of laughter rising merrily and a song emerging from the depths of time.

The encounter had been inevitable, he knew. It was a wonder he could manage to delay it for three weeks.

"Well met, Captain," he managed, and slid from his arms.


- private -

"I never knew that you knew..."

"Your statement in itself carries the answer to your doubts, Master Elrond. You never knew that I knew – why would you? Why should you?"

"I should not; and that is why I felt the need to ask, and not toinquire."

"It was not a question."

"It was becoming one."

Shifting uncomfortably in the cross-fire of piercing grey eyes, Erestor put down his quill and pulled a pile of old reports protectively in front of himself.

"I was born and raised in Gondolin," he said at length, then gravely, "it is strange that he even remembers my name."

But Elrond Half-Elven was as much a healer as he was a loremaster, and his eyes were keen.

"Would you rather he did not?"


- arrival -

Erestor of the Fountain!

They sang it and cried it aloud as if there was nothing else happening in this wide world than his ancestry being revealed.

Evil is growing, and so grows his Shadow! Sauron has rused us all, he took us for fools, fools, ridiculous fools, he wanted to scream right into their faces.

Restless, despairing and lonely, he walked the castle in the light of Ithil and the stars. He never wanted them to know. He was but a thin shadow of his forefathers either way – why did it matter whose shadow he was?

"He who walks in starlight," Erestor hummed as he descended the steps of the Eastern Tower for the tenth time that night, "who drapes himself in clouds -"

"He who hides in caves and breaches, icy peaks that darkness shrouds -" a ringing voice answered him from behind.

He ran.


- new -

Erestor was nothing like his old self, Glorfindel decided.

In his hands was a hidden power that seemed to radiate when he placed them on Master Elrond's shoulder, wishing him luck as a lieutenant.

On his brows lay wisdom and collectedness that gave everyone strength when Eregion fell and its people sought refuge, then faced the deadly storm that was the siege.

His wits were sharp as steel, and that proved quite useful when under his command, the smiths of Lindon turned the fire of the damaged forge against the Orcs that tried to break through its walls.

He was brave as well – he would fit perfectly in one of the Great Tales, voices started to whisper when he grabbed the banner of the High King before it fell to the fire, and the next moment there was an Orc-head impaled on it.

But Erestor was also modest and quiet, and Erestor carefully avoided Glorfindel.


Author's notes

'Laurefindil' is the Quenya version of Glorfindel.

Erestor, in my mind, is a nephew of Ecthelion. The main reason why I picture him as one of the Gondolindrim (which is quite common, according to my knowledge) is that it seems to be the most logical way to explain who he is, and why would he have the place of Chief Advisor in Elrond's household with Glorfindel also present.
(And why the blood of Ecthelion? Simply because I love him).

The story, though only a set of drabbles, tries to keep continuity in time. This chapter goes from the return of Glorfindel to Middle-Earth (SA 1600) to the siege of Rivendell and Lindon (SA 1699)

Drabbles are something I seldom write – my prose tends to get very talkative but now, with these two characters (and several others popping in), I decided to try. Please tell me what you thought about it!

There will be 5 more chapters, 25 more drabbles.