To my dear guest: Thank you, I'm happy you've enjoyed the beginning! Thank you for the rec as well, I'll check it out sometime.

Oh, my bad. I've just figured that my Word had auto-saved Ecthelion's name in the wrong way. Thankfully in my other stories, it's okay. Huge thanks for pointing it out!

~ and here's the suite ~

- blossom -

"Counsellor," the King's voice boomed behind his back and he almost dropped the quill. "We need to talk. Sincerely."

"Yes, Highness," Erestor of the Fountain sprang to his feet, and bowed deep before the King and that commading glance of his.

"It is about your work," Gil-Galad said. He settled comfortably behind Erestor's desk and began to page through the latest pile of reports. "You have too much of it. I barely remember seeing you outside this office."

"It shall take years to clean up after the war, Highness," Erestor said. "I find no rest, knowing that there are still people in these lands left without food, that there are houses without a roof, that there are -"

"The people shall be fed, the houses repaired, all wounds healed," Gil-Galad said. "And you shall be out beneath the open sky, flowers in your hair, before I count to three."

Out beneath the open sky, he was.

But flowers in his hair – when all flowers he saw were golden?

- dreamland -

The memory of Erestor had been the first to return, but so came the others.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Ondolindë in its wild elaborateness, in its flowing elegance, in its delicate beauty. He walked the streets he knew and loved, he saw friends he had long missed but they never heard him when he called for them.

I am trapped between two circles of the World, sometimes he thought, shivering.

Trapped between dream and wakefulness.

Only, he never seemed to be truly awake.

Erestor, he knew. Glorfindel would need to talk, perhaps to reveal a thing or two, and no one else would do as an audience.

But Erestor lived in Lindon still, and Glorfindel in the fair valley of Imladris.

- you fell -

A helmet – that was what remained of his King to kiss, to wrap his arms around.

A broken helmet.

Hot were the tears that sprang from his eyes, freezing cold were the hands of Elrond Half-Elven that grabbed his shoulders, then grasped them so hard they made a nasty crackling sound.

"He left," Erestor sobbed, out of his mind.

"He left," Elrond echoed, his face now resting on the Counsellor's shoulders. "Yet we remain."

"We are always left behind, you and I," Erestor said in a throaty voice.

The Sun shined down bright on them with its cruel golden light.

- flinch -

"Please," Elrond had whispered as he turned his back on him. Erestor had never heard him beg before, and never intended to. "I cannot go on without you."

"You have already accomplished a great set of deeds without me, Lord of the Valley. Let me go! The Sea calls my name, and I am weary of this world."

Erestor spoke the truth. He was weary of this world. And in his dreams, the Sea was calling his name indeed - it was whispering him to stay as far as possible. The mere thought of boarding a ship disquieted him, but he did want to see his King again. If sailing was what it took, then he would sail.

Why did the journey seem so baleful and stormy, then?

- chained -

"I hate you not."

"Are you sure?"

"I hate you not," Erestor repeated, his hands shaking from indignation. Why was Elrond still sending people after him? And why Glorfindel?

"I came of my own free will," he said, answering his thoughts, "and without his knowledge."

"And why would your own free will bid you to follow me? Do you miss fair Valinórë already?"

"I do, sometimes," Glorfindel mused. "But I was sent back on purpose and I have duty to do."

"I... that was highly inappropriate," Erestor managed. "Forgive me."

"You are entirely forgiven, mellon nin. And now, come home with me! Do not rob us of your wisdom and knowledge any further."

The Sea was frowning at him as he left.