Hey everyone! Here's another little friendship one-shot that popped into my head. Glorfindel and Erestor are my unfortunate victims this time. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for all the support on my last one-shot. I truly love reading any and all comments so please tell me what you think. I plan to keep writing these one-shots when ideas come to mind if y'all like them (Yes, I'm Southern and I say 'y'all'. I own it). Thanks again for all the support. Enjoy!

NOTE: This story is NOT slash. I will never write anything intended to be slash.

He was supposed to annoy me. At least that's what everyone thought.

And yet, somehow, his loud, boisterous, and highly unorganized personality had wormed its way into my formerly closed off heart. How it had happened, I can't be sure, and yet I am so very glad it did.

Usually.

But now seeing him stretched out in front of me, barely moving, barely breathing, I almost miss the blissful protection that being closed off to others afforded me. I always cared about those of my race, as would any good elf, however it was never this personal. Now, it felt as though I had been right there on the battlefield with him. Every drop of sweat that fell from his fevered brow was like fierce blow. Every twitch of pain, an arrow to the chest. Every ragged breath, a knife to the heart.

I sighed as I changed the cold compress that lay across his brow. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be signing paper after endless paper all alone in my office while he celebrated the latest victory his patrol had won over the orcs that always sought to find the last homely house. Then, when the moon was full and high, we were supposed to meet in the gardens and take a long walk so he could brag about his battle victories while I chided him about safety and I could brag about the diplomatic victories I won over the ever-obstinate Blue Mountain Dwarves while he chided me about pushing myself too hard and having no fun.

That was how this evening was supposed to have gone. He wasn't supposed to have received a poor estimation about the size of an approaching orc band from a scout just out of training. He wasn't supposed to have ridden out of Imladris' gates with a patrol of a mere twenty warriors only to encounter over a hundred orcs. He wasn't supposed to have jumped in the path of a poisoned arrow to protect the young warrior who failed to see it. I wasn't supposed to have watched as he was drug back through the gates on a litter, barely alive. I wasn't supposed to have watched anxiously from the doorway as Lord Elrond struggled to keep him breathing, stop the bleeding, and combat the poison. I wasn't supposed to be sitting here now watching him struggle for his life, feeling like I was experiencing his every pain personally.

I sighed again and slipped my fingers between his, wincing slightly as heat radiated even from them. He mumbled softly in his sleep and his eyes roamed beneath their lids. I squeezed his hand a bit tighter, gently hushing him. Then, to my immense relief his eyes cracked open and he stared up me.

"Keep frowning like that…and your face will get stuck…in that shape", the Marchwarden murmured, cracking an all too familiar grin.

"Indeed? At least then I will be assured not to look like you", I sniffed, yet inside my heart was nearly singing with joy to hear his voice and see his smile.

He chuckled softly, though it quickly turned into a gasp of pain.

"Glor! Are you in pain", I asked.

He nodded and I stood, telling him I would go fetch Lord Elrond. A hand gripping my sleeve stopped me and I turned back to the golden-warrior.

"Don'…go…'Restor", he murmured. "He'll come back…soon anyway."

I smiled and sat back down, this time on the side of the bed, and took his hand again. True to his prediction, Lord Elrond soon came back with a pain-killing and sleeping draught. How he knows exactly what to have before he's even seen the patient is beyond me. There is a reason he's the best healer in Arda I suppose. Soon, the warrior was asleep again, but his breaths came easier now and the lines of pain that had marred his face had eased. I didn't move though. I didn't move through the whole night. Was it harder to be open and personal to someone rather than stay in my own little world? Did this particular someone annoy me to the ends of Middle-Earth and back again on a good day?

Yes.

And I would not have it any other way.

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