This is the letter Erestor had in his desk in The Hard Way to Forgiveness ~or~ The Anger of Erestor, so you may want to read that first. You don't have to, of course, it makes sense (I suppose) without it! R&R!

Glorfindel,

I have to say, first of all, I never was one for happy friendships and sappy meanings of love – in a quite brotherly way, of course. There was…there was one, long ago, but that ended, and it was different in any case. Other than that, I have never had anyone I could just be myself around, not the stern adviser everyone sees (oh, I know what you're thinking. It's not my inner spirit – when have you ever known an elf to always be so serious all the time?). I know what everyone else says about me, that…well, such rumors are not for now.

Around you, though, I can be who I really am, not the elf others expect to see. I can laugh, and smile, though it seems I do little enough of both even when I'm with you. I have had no reason to do so, for centuries, even, but now I find that life seems to have more meaning, a day I can look forward to, not the same routine over and over again for years. Oh, silly you. I know what you're thinking again. Don't give yourself so much credit – it's just your presence that reminds me of such that I live for. I can say, however, that you are by far the best friend I have ever had – even better, perhaps, than my parents. I never really knew them, but that's a tale for another time, and too long for this.

Oh, I am just fooling myself again. I will burn this letter like all the others, even the ones I've written for…the other, that I thought would stay. You probably wouldn't understand; you have your own friends, the warriors and such that you seem to have more fun – I think that is the word – with, but you know not how much I really do enjoy these 'chess nights' as you call them. The ridiculous banter we exchange truly is inane, but as much as I claim you have no wit, you actually tax the limits of my mind to somehow always best you in mind warfare. (If I would call it that.) Your bizarre comments that seem to come from nowhere are humorous, and they really do amuse me, though I have mastered my expressions and I can hide a smile. Sometimes not easily though.

I have written three paragraphs now, and I still have managed to completely evade the point of this letter. There really is no point, I suppose, since you're never going to read it, but it does clear my mind of these thoughts. It is quite amusing, actually. I have a reputation among the other elves – diplomats, not the warriors and guards, I think – of even Lothlórien and the Greenwood, because I always have such the perfect words to dissolve their arguments and protestations, and can easily stop a ridiculous trade agreement with them, the humans or others. (The adan, they seem to think that we are rich, and can pay whatever they ask for supplies), but…oh, see, I am doing it again. This is what this letter is about. It is…I actually haven't thought about what it would be.

Friends. Yes. That is…my fluid speech has abandoned me. Or writing, whichever you wish to call it. I dearly wish I could erase this ink, but no, it is permanent. I must continue, though. There is no reason to go so far, write so much (well, this is a very short letter compared to some 'diplomatic' ones I've sent, but it has no drawn-out words, and if I may, it comes from…the heart, I suppose). And really. How hard is it to write just a few simple words?

As it is, then. To put it quite simply, you are my friend. My only friend, if I can say so, for Lord Elrond is more of a – he is more of a Lord than a friend, but that is how it's supposed to be. An 'employer' cannot be more than just acquaintances with the ones who work for him; personal objections and such would get in the way. Can you see that I have thought on this? It is…different for you. Well, how I think of you. You would be the one, I think, that I would trust my life to if need be, and you would be the…how do the adan put it, the 'right-hand' elf, the one who would stand by me if I ever…married. I do not suppose that will ever happen, of course, but…you see? It is the friendship we have. And the trust.

The trust, I suppose, may be too much. I had always been warned that "others are not to be relied upon; the only one you can really trust is yourself." These words have been proved wrong though – I cannot trust myself. I cannot rely on myself to keep my distance from you…I am too shackled by the bonds of friendship. Although…I suppose not bonds, not in this case. So as I said, the trust, it could be more than it should, but that is how it is. It is how I am. Who am I to give my companionship and hold some back? No, that is the – I believe that is the point of this. What I am, I give all I have – in terms of my emotions, my thoughts – to those who I trust. Even love, I infer, but it's not…it is of the sort that very close friends would hold for each other. Maybe a boon, as they would say? No, more of a – a fortunate thing. That my friendship is held by only one. I do not think I would, or could, have more than one friend like you. I do not think I would want to.

So. There, I have finished. I think. I will not reread this letter – I have made no mistakes, I am sure, but…I will lose my courage and throw this away now if I go back over it. Now I will place this in an envelope, put it in a top drawer of my desk, and leave it there for a week while I try to work up the courage to give this to you. (Because, I have discovered, not really to my shock, that I am in actuality a very cowardly person. I do not have the bravery to really talk like I think closer friends do – like you do with your other friends, the warriors and guards and such that you train with).

But…I will not give it to you. I know myself. This letter, I will think on and torture myself about just releasing it into your hands, and yet – and yet. I could not bear your sympathy if you knew that I had no 'friends' of the sort that you do. That I have emotions; that I am weak…that I could rely on another. So then, I am going to burn this – but not now. I will just place it in my drawer for now, and maybe in a week. Yes. I think a week, I will then burn this.

And then you will not know.

Well. I concur. Farewell. (I know not how to end this not-to-be-read letter, so I think…as I do with all others? No, too – it would seem to not-personal. Like I hadn't just written down my accursed feelings on a piece of paper. Then…as I would a friend. A very good friend. Yes, I think so.)

Always and forever your friend (even until the World is Remade),

Erestor