Eregion, 2941 TA

"I remember now how much I dislike travel," Erestor grumbled.

Glorfindel looked over at him with a shake of his head. "We have had fine weather the entire journey. Ample rest, more supplies than we'll need, not the slightest trace of anything untoward across our path. But you moan."

"Aye, I do. If we can enjoy all that good fortune, and yet the travel be miserable, you can see how bad it must be."

"Well, I think it quite nice to ride out, leisurely, not having drawn steel in days," Glorfindel said.

"Your sword-arm gets a rest, but at the expense of my back," Erestor groused. "Hours upon horseback all day; cold, hard ground at night. I'm too old for this sort of Elfling errantry."

Glorfindel laughed merrily. "Too old!" he scoffed. "No, you are merely too soft, too comfort-bound."

"I cannot recollect the last time you forewent a long soak in a hot bath and a very late breakfast after returning from patrols," Erestor pointed out.

"Patrols," Glorfindel echoed simply.

"And every day sat in my office is a patrol tour of the mind," Erestor said, tapping his forehead for emphasis. "Often with orcs. Even worse, frequently with Wood-elves. Ergo, I earn my comforts, thank you. Unless, of course, you should like to try your hand at crafting communications to King Thranduil."

"Ah. A fair point," Glorfindel conceded graciously. "I would far rather do embassage to Mordor than figure out how to keep his majesty on side. On the bright side, at least you've got a holiday from all that."

"Until we return and I learn that Lindir has accidentally insulted Himself and we are to expect a shipment of spiders in the coming weeks."

"Now, Erestor, you mustn't exaggerate so," Glorfindel chided. "You know perfectly well that spiders which dwell in Mirkwood are of Mirkwood, and thus of the King, and being of the King, none else shall have them!"

After a moment, Erestor snickered at that, then chuckled, and finally laughed fully aloud until he was wiping away tears. "That is only too true! King Thranduil could hoard utterly anything as long as he was convinced he had some right to it that none other should claim."

Glorfindel just looked over at Erestor with a grin. It was a point of honour that he was one of the very few Elves in the whole of Endor who could draw a laugh from the notoriously stern and somber Counselor. Of course, it was a rare prize only won at the cost of many eye-rolls, frosty glares, acerbic remarks, and the occasional blazing row.

"You've known him quite some time, have you not, the King of the Spider-wood?" Glorfindel asked.

Erestor nodded. "Since long before that lovely forest was allowed to fall to decay, yes."

"Think you that was a matter of leadership, or rather the lack of, then?"

"Absolutely," Erestor answered without hesitation. "I remember Oropher, his father, who was also a… well, let's say he liked his own ways best. But he made the best of those ways, a self-made King, and he understood the importance of maintaining trade and alliances. His son has no memory of a time when we all dwelt together and were just learning to seek our own lands again, after the fall of Beleriand, depending so on one another. Thranduil often attended celebrations and feasts at Ost-in-Edhil at the behest of Oropher, but he never seemed to think very highly of us, only tolerated us because trade with us was crucial and highly-sought. He was haughty to everyone who wasn't one of his own travelling companions. And the time he was invited to our Feast of the Games, and walked out in disgust over a new game in which Elves and Dwarves played on the same side…."

"That game sounds rather interesting," Glorfindel commented.

"It was fantastic. I rather half-invented it after seeing our friends from Khazad-dûm demonstrate their idea of it. I suggested having Elves on their teams as well, and it worked brilliantly," Erestor said wistfully. "I don't suppose I shall ever see such match again. So much of the joy we once had…."

Glorfindel rode closer to Erestor and reached out to clasp his shoulder.

Erestor shook his head. "There's much more of that to come. The entire purpose of this journey, is it not?"

Glorfindel nodded, then reached for his pack, wondering aloud, "About how far are we now?"

"You needn't trouble your map. It may be more than an age now, but a part of me is this land. Just up over this hill ahead and we will come down into the city." Erestor pulled his horse to stop. "I wonder if you…. That is, I'd like to go on alone from here."

Glorfindel also stopped and turned back toward Erestor. He met his gaze for a long moment before nodding. "You must remain alert, though. I know you will be walking into many deep, strong memories, but while you once felt safe and home in this land, we are now in the open wild. Do not take your sword off, not for a moment. If I bring our Counselor back damaged, Elrond shall find a Balrog and feed me to it. And my Lord Mandos shall not be pleased to see me return to his halls."

Erestor managed a wry grin. "I knew he sent you back for an obnoxion. Besides, you shall have a long reprieve ere Elrond finds any Balrogs here." Erestor dismounted and Glorfindel followed suit, taking the reins Erestor handed him.

"Erestor, mellon, may Lady Nienna walk with you," Glorfindel said, wrapping Erestor in a hug.

"Thank you. I cannot say how long I shall be."

"Then take this," Glorfindel said, drawing off a small horn suspended on a baldric over his shoulder. "Call if you need me, for any reason. Otherwise, I will remain here."

Erestor nodded and slipped on the strap, along with a water-skin, then set off on foot up the hill that sat beside whatever was left of the city he'd helped to build a lifetime ago.


As he approached the summit of the hill, Erestor studiously kept his eyes on the ground immediately in front of him. He had no notion what to expect when he finally looked up. Ost-in-Edhil had been a gleaming, thriving city when he last laid eyes upon it. Though its fortified walls had been augmented considerably since the revelation of Annatar's true identity, it was still magnificent and fair, a true glory of Elvendom. All Erestor had heard since enduring the loss of his other half had been words like "destruction" and "razed" and "decimated".

Finally Erestor came to a point from which he had no choice but to start downward. He stood for some while, still staring at the ground at his feet. Once he lifted his gaze, there would no longer be even the faintest whisper that he could hold memory as present reality. There before him waited the most physical evidence of the loss of… everything.

Already on the way there, since Hollin Ridge, Erestor had noted how changed was the land of Eregion. What was once flourishing and wooded, verdant and teeming, sweet. grassy meadows dotted with stands of great holly trees, was now stubbly and rocky, inhospitable and unforgiving terrain.

Erestor closed his eyes and fixed in his mind the image of Ost-in-Edhil as he remembered seeing it from that same hilltop the day he rode out to Lindon with the Three. He raised his head and after a long moment, opened his eyes. He closed them again immediately, forcing himself to stifle a cry, lest Glorfindel come running.

Ruins was the only word for it. Nothing remained but the shells of some of the towers and a few partially-standing archways that had once been strong gates. He felt like sinking to the ground and becoming part of the ruins himself. Eventually, he opened his eyes again and took a step forward, slowly making his way down the hill toward the plateau crowned with the broken teeth of what was once his home.

Just as the land began to slope upward again, Erestor passed a particularly tall holly tree and paused. Gauging the distance between it and the city's postern, Erestor circled the tree and found himself walking into the first of the truly realistic memories he'd had so far on this journey. There had once been a ring of trees here – was it six or maybe nine? – and they grew close together, only just enough space between them to walk into their midst. It was something of a hallowed place, as much as anything was in the particularly practical land that Eregion had been.

A few of the trees' narrow stumps remained imbedded in the ground, but a few were either worn away or had been uprooted and removed. Either way, there remained only one tree, growing tall and healthy in what seemed to be defiance of the annihilation it had borne witness to so long ago. Erestor knelt in the middle of what would have been the circle of trees. On this slope beside their city, many, many nights did Erestor and Celebrimbor spend lying in one another's arms, watching the stars – most often the ones in each other's eyes, but sometimes the jewels of Elbereth in the night sky as well.