Title: Old Habits
Fandom: Silmarillion, LotR
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Elrond, Mithrandir, Lindir and mention of Maedhros, Maglor, Cirdan and Gil-galad.
Summary: Complete. Mention of things that have nothing to do with canon and a lot to do with The Forgotten Tree. In this, Glorfindel has just arrived in Imladris, having traveled with Mithrandir. Erestor is proving stubborn so Glorfindel is expending considerable energy trying to make him see are heating up for the Last Alliance, and armies are starting to gather in Imladris.
1.
So began the strangest time of Erestor's long life, and that was saying much for one who had spent years roaming the land with Maedhros and Maglor. There was no luxury of a city's distance between him and Glorfindel, or the veil that separated life from death. Everything changed the day Mithrandir and his recently revived companion rode down the steep trail to the base of the valley, and Erestor found it was well nigh impossible to ignore someone who now lived under the same roof. Elrond resolutely forbid him to travel anywhere. Neither Elrond, nor Gil-galad had ever denied Erestor the freedom to come and go as he pleased.
"I was thinking to visit the Havens," Erestor said.
"If so, Cirdan can have you and I'll give your rooms to Lindir. Really, Erestor if you had a purpose; I'd send you myself. As it is, I absolutely need you here," Elrond said, without looking up from the bottles he was filling.
"Thank you for your concern," Erestor said, and waited to see if there was the smallest hope that Elrond could be swayed, but Elrond held a bottle up to the light and watched the contents slide against the glass. Defeated, Erestor went out from the house to busy himself overseeing the arrival of artisans and metalworkers at the outer borders of Imladris. The plan would have been ideal if Glorfindel had not had the same idea. Reinforcing the outer guards, he called it. Erestor tried his best to not watch Glorfindel's mouth as he spoke.
The one sided courtship began in earnest as a horseman hurried toward Erestor later that evening. He waited until Erestor finished dispensing last minute instructions to an overseer managing the construction of temporary housing for the influx into Imladris.
"I hate to bother you," the horseman said.
"Well, what is it?"
"Someone has braided bells into your horse's mane."
"Bells," Erestor repeated.
"Yes, bells. They did a fine job with black and silver ribbons."
"Thank you for telling me. If you would, please inform lord Glorfindel when you next catch him near the stables that bells are a fine idea when our kind ride to war in great groups, but my current business is aided by quiet stealth. Ask him if he is trying to hasten my death so that we find ourselves back where we started."
The horseman seemed to truly want to help Erestor, but he also appeared little inclined to relate orders to the recently reborn and widely-renowned new inhabitant of Imladris.
"Never mind, I will tell him myself." Erestor said in sympathy with the horseman's nervousness. "But please remove the ornaments if you do not mind."
"I will do so right away."
Later that night Erestor met with Elrond to discuss new missives from Gil-galad. Their business almost completed, Erestor poured a glass of wine and said, "Will you tell Glorfindel to not bother my horse?"
"You told me once that you disliked that horse and that I should consider him mine. I think the bells are quite nice. The History of Gondolin describes the colors used by the House of the Fountain. I think the ribbons are a lovely touch. You should embrace your past, Erestor."
"Thank you for your opinion, but will you please tell Glorfindel . . . ."
"Tell him yourself."
"Goodnight, Elrond."
"Goodnight, Erestor."
Defeated again, Erestor made his way to his rooms. It did not feel like they were preparing for war. The activity that grew each day at the once quiet haven seemed instead a well-rehearsed backdrop to Erestor's personal crises. Everyone seemed to know their place, or to know more than Erestor, which placed him in a role he had not felt since he was very young. He was long accustomed to knowing more than everyone else around him. He felt lost and no longer in control. This only fueled his determination.
He planned to write Glorfindel a letter when he reached his desk. He would tell him to . . . not always be apparent . . . to leave his horse alone . . . to stop having private conversations with Elrond. Erestor realized there was really not much he could say in a letter but he composed an outline in his mind as he walked, and took great pride in his internal vehemence – until he reached the closed door to his rooms and found light coming from the crack at the bottom. Erestor eased the door open carefully, prepared for an ambush. The entry and the library were empty. He peered out toward the balcony – nothing. Lamps were lit in every room, yet nothing seemed out of place.
Erestor glanced toward each corner of the room as he extinguished the flames in the lamps and prepared for bed. A very small part of him was dismayed to find the place empty. In fear of dreams, he crawled into his familiar bed. He had not slept well, if at all, for days and he was very tired from too much ineffective thinking; he looked forward to oblivion and muttered one of his mother's old charms to ward away bad dreams until surprisingly, blessedly, he grew comfortable.
He was just about to slip away fully into sleep when he stretched his arm beneath his pillow and felt a piece of paper there.
Erestor unfolded the paper in the moonlight. It was his own paper and his own ink, a letter composed, Erestor assumed, at his own desk. The handwriting was Glorfindel's and the words were in their old language, the language of Gondolin. There were at most three others left on those shores that could speak the language, let alone write it.
The letter, its content and the manner of its composition aside, made Erestor feel bound by the language, comforted by the look of it on the page. In his quiet bed in the quiet house, the old words spoke to him like music. He had never allowed himself to miss his favorite, familiar things from that time. There were dishes he could not eat, had never allowed himself to taste, because they bore too much of a similarity to the foods he had known in Gondolin.
My dearest Erestor,
I placed bells in your horse's mane today because I met Nolwë in the Halls of Waiting and he asked that I do so as a sign of his affection. It was my choice to braid the bells with the colors of the Fountain because your father preferred your horses to wear nothing. I believe horses are happier when wearing colors and adornment. You will have them removed by morning, I am certain, but I would like you to observe the happiness in your horse's expression before they are taken down. I will not be serious, I will not look at you mournfully – I will not assault you with grave topics. I have it on good authority, several had spoken to me directly, that there are aged inhabitants of this place that have never heard you laugh in joy. At folly at another's expense perhaps, but that is not the same. My Erestor laughed with me often, though he and I could also be serious and considering – and I will find him again. There is darkness enough wherever we go. There is sorrow and there is grief, but these things are only half the world. If one dwells in the shadows too long, he begins to see sadness in everything.
Heart of my heart, you are beautiful and kind and I love you. But you are also very sad and I must fix you. We lost two nights in Gondolin as a result of my determination to do what was right at the time. I regret my actions. You regret your powerlessness. If we regret two nights, how deeply will we regret our missed days in the present? Already, we prepare for another war. If all goes as it should, I have only one request of you. When the battles are finished I would like for us to travel alone for a time. I want to ride out with you, forgetting our duties. I want you to show me the places you have seen, the forests you have hunted; I want us to find new places to explore.
I have never lived without a family to care for, a house I was bound to, a king to wait for, or walls around me. I have never been free to come and go as I please. You are also bound by duties now but you have crafted a life for yourself that is not caged by borders. I need you to show me how to do this. You do not live in fear of your king or your lord – they are your friends, more than you really believe. Though you will not hear it, they have given you leave to follow your heart. As for mine, you hold it in your hands. It awaits your bidding. Always. –G
Erestor refolded the letter and placed it back beneath his pillow. He lay still, watching the trees sway beyond the balcony. He lost himself in the movement, the moon low on the horizon. Without realizing it, just before sleep found him, Erestor began to hum. His ill-used voice drifted into dreams, the good sort. And Glorfindel, hidden on the balcony, heard the sound and smiled.