Chapter 31 - Lengthy Discussions

It felt as if she were buried deep in a velvety mass of darkness. Her mind probed outwards and found only the void; yet it was not an alarming emptiness which is prone to giving one a sense of vertigo. No, it was a comfortable-blanket-nothingness, and Elanor lay for a long time in it's welcoming depths.

At length a low murmur assailed her silence. It was nothing more than a whisper, but as her pit of inky blackness brightened to grey the sound grew louder. Finally she heard it clearly, a man's voice which rang like sonorous music:

"What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now, Elanor of Rivendell?"

That startled her. But as the void was growing steadily lighter—now closer to white than black—Elanor allowed events to take their course.

In a rush she was conscious of her body, of aches and pains and an ability to control her form which had been nonexistent in the nothingness. Now, she commanded her eyes to open and they did so, revealing the soft light of morn and a plain ceiling above her head.

The voice did not speak again, but as Elanor's gaze travelled along her body beneath soft blankets they came to the end of the bed. And there, in an armchair, sat Glorfindel.

She threw herself into a sitting position.

"Glorfindel!"

The golden-haired Elf smiled, revealing his even teeth. "Good morning, Elanor," he said, though there was less warmth in his expression than she previously observed.

Her body felt a good deal better than the last time she had awoken to a man sitting at the end of her bed, and she shifted so she was sitting more comfortably.

Silence reigned for a moment, as Glorfindel studied her unblinkingly and Elanor began to grow uncomfortable. As her mind shook off slumber, she began to recall the events of the previous few days. The memory of the Battle for Minas Tirith crashed over her like a wave of polluted, oil-slicked water.

Blood… screaming… how did I… I lived…

With that realisation came the knowledge that the tall Elf was most probably extremely vexed with her for disobeying orders and putting herself in danger.

"Why are you here, Elanor?" he asked in Sindarin, dispelling any of her doubts about his state of mind.

Still, she didn't quite know how to respond. His use of Elvish disarmed her, and she replied after some deliberation.

"The same reason as you, I suppose," she replied, trying to appear playful. Glorfindel did not smile. His expression was uncharacteristically stern, his blue eyes cool and his jaw clenched tightly.

"I will not bandy words with you, for deception and subtlety is of little use, and I would speak plainly to those who are dear to me."

This is not going to be good…

"Alright…"

"That was excessively foolish!" he burst out, standing up abruptly and looming over her with all of his six-and-a-half feet. He let forth a torrent of Sindarin, some of which was lost on her but most of which was clear enough to be like a slap in the face. "Elanor, how could you be so reckless, so thoughtless, so—unwise? I know that your foreknowledge gained Lord Elrond's favour for you to travel south to Rohan, but I could not have dreamed you would be so childish as to attempt to ride into battle! It is a miracle you were not killed in the first charge! Whatever possessed you to do something of the kind? Lord Elrond shall be furious should he hear of such matters, and were your brothers aware of your feckless behaviour they should have come to speak to you just as I have! Elanor! I did not believe it possible that you should abandon all reason so, for you never displayed such an inkling before! Explain yourself!"

Elanor started at him, eyes wide and mouth partly open. His voice had steadily risen as he spoke, his pleasant tone growing harsh as he began to spit the accusations at her. He gestured sharply, every word punctuated by anger and disapproval. Under the fury of his gaze, she quailed as she sat.

Letting her eyes drop to the sheets, she promptly burst into tears.

She drew her hands to her face, shocked and horrified that Glorfindel—affectionate, gentlemanly, kind, cheerful Glorfindel—should give her such a dressing-down. Shame and humiliation welled up inside her. As it washed over the tension of the previous week, Elanor lost all sense of control and began to weep uncontrollably. Her body shook with sobs as she drew her knees up to her face and pressed her face into them.

Vaguely, she heard Glorfindel's footsteps as he flew to her bedside.

"Elanor! Oh Elanor!"

Elanor continued to cry, indulging in the release after the tension she had endured. Her sleep had been deep and dreamless, but as she wept the images of the day before stormed her consciousness. She saw the soldiers whom had assailed her, weapons raised, and her Elvish blade piercing their bodies. She saw them fall from the saddle, dead.

Dead by her hand.

She saw blood.

Blood! Gallons of blood, heard the screams of man and horse intermingled as the Rohirrim dealt death over and over. There was bone and flesh, internal organs spilled across the once-green grass. Smoke and decay and rotting bodies, all thrown together into a horrifying quagmire which sickened her to her very spirit.

Her breathing slowed and she lifted her head slightly, staring listlessly at her own knees.

"I'm a murderer," she whispered, complete and utter shame filling her. She had never been a saint, but her family had upheld Christian principles and she had been taught to follow them diligently. There was a great deal of grey when it came to right and wrong as she had known it, but taking someone's life had never been a matter of dispute.

"Elanor!" the Elf repeated, and she turned to see the person who had just scolded her for riding into battle. Glorfindel stood beside her bed, wearing a look of utmost horror and contrition. As Elanor met his gaze, he moved slowly to her side and knelt on the floor beside her.

"I'm a murderer," she repeated, feeling as if she might vomit. "I killed people." It was barely more than a whisper, but he heard it. And as a fresh batch of tears formed in Elanor's eyes, Glorfindel reached gently out with his hand and touched her arm.

Unable to check herself, Elanor fell towards him. He caught her in his arms, pulling her tight against his chest as she sobbed without restraint. The tears fell thick and fast, her nose was quickly clogged and her breath quivered as the sickening realisation of what had just happened hit her.

I killed people! I stabbed people and killed them!

I'm a murderer!

She cried until she had nothing left within her. Eventually the tears ran dry, and she merely leaned against this Elf she counted as family, her shoulder nestled against him and her face resting on his collarbone.

At length he spoke.

"Elanor, forgive me," he whispered in the Common Tongue, "for I should not have spoken so. I came to aid Aragorn in healing Lady Éowyn and Meriadoc, only to discover that you had also ridden to war beside them." He hesitated, his breath catching a little. "The Nazgûl had affected you with it's foul Black Breath, though to a far lesser extent than your companions." He squeezed her gently.

"I'm sorry," she quivered, fingers clinging to the fabric of his tunic. "I—I didn't think."

"You are unhurt?"

"Yes."

Elanor sniffled, before gently pushing herself away from Glorfindel so she was sitting upright. She smiled weakly.

"Sorry about that," she managed, sniffing again.

Glorfindel's eyes glinted queerly, and he looked down as if discomfited.

Good one, making the Elf awkward Elanor!

"Do not apologise," he said instead. "I feared for you greatly, for I knew not you lay in the Houses until the Healer-woman led Aragorn and I hence. The fault is mine; I should not have addressed you so, knowing what you must have endured."

Elanor nodded and glanced downwards, trailing her hand across the bedclothes. She had cried herself out, and now all that was left was a horrid, numb lump within her chest and the echoing accusation within her mind:

You're a murderer.

"Are you well, truly, Elanor?" Glorfindel pressed gently, reaching out to clasp her hand and drawing her eyes to his. Again she was caught by the flicker of something unknown within his blue eyes.

"Physically? Yes. But—I killed people!" she said, her brow creased. "I cannot believe I—I took someone's life. I killed. I'm a murderer."

"A murderer you are not! Death in war is not murder, Elanor."

She paused, still sickened with revulsion.

"In my world, only a small amount of people fight in wars. None of my family has fought and killed, and I had never used a sword till Rivendell." She spoke softly, staring into the blanket as she could not meet Glorfindel's eyes. She spared no effort with her speech, disarmed by her grief and the presence of one who knew her past. "I had never fought before, and I never wanted to. Don't tell me I'm foolish, because I didn't even want to go into that battle today—yesterday… whenever it was. I didn't want to. But I'm stuck here, Glorfindel—" She looked up imploringly "—and I may as well make the most of it. It really hit me, after you guys left for the Paths of the Dead. I am never, ever going back to my parents, or Georgia, or Tim. Never. So I thought, well, seeing as this is my life now, that I should… help. I didn't want to be left behind, not again. I've lost a lot. I said goodbye to Rivendell, and to you, and Legolas—and then I said goodbye again after a tiny while at Dunharrow. And I just hated the idea of being stuck at Edoras. I hated battle, but I hated being silly and useless more. Merry came to fight, and he's smaller and weaker than me. He's innocent, and young, and he shouldn't have been there. Éowyn shouldn't either. But they both didn't let fear overcome them; they went anyway. Could I say the same of myself? No. I just wanted a cosy existence. I wanted it so badly, to be wrapped up in a blanket in Elrond's study playing chess with Bilbo, or learning Sindarin from you. It was all so much fun! And then this quest happened, and it all got thrown up. You have no idea how much I want security. At first I wanted to be back home, in my old world. And then I kinda realised it wasn't going to happen, so I settled for a life of peace here, in Middle Earth. And look where that got me. All I wanted was to be safe, and loved and secure, but I couldn't. The only thing I hated more than the idea of being in constant danger, was seeing the people I cared about walk into it and being stuck on the sidelines. I'm nothing special, I have no skills or strength, and I would've been next to useless in the Fellowship. But I made it to Rohan, and I wanted to commit to my life here…"

"You have suffered much, and I have added to your grief," muttered Glorfindel, frowning down at his hands.

"No, no, don't blame yourself," Elanor replied, sniffing and reaching out to brush his arm. "It was my fault. I guess I just… figured that this is my world now, and I wanted to be… reckless. I'd lost a lot and I think all my sadness kinda caught up with me. It was like a suicide mission." She gave a weak laugh.

"Speak not of such things!" he said, horrified. "It is not for you to seek death in battle! You are dearly beloved by Elrond's household—and by many others."

Elanor gave a flicker of a smile. "I know. I've got so many good friends—and you're one of the greatest. I'm sorry for scaring you, and I'll face Elladan and Elrohir myself if you like, once I've got it together a bit. I probably should've just gone on the Paths of the Dead with you guys, rather than with the Rohirrim. But it's easy to say that afterwards."

"No, I believe you chose right not to journey with us. The road was long and hard, and equally perilous. Many days we rode with no rest or respite, and you should not have endured such an ordeal. Though," Glorfindel also smiled slightly, "I know better now than to question your fortitude at every step."

Elanor returned the gesture, deeply relieved to see that he was showing some of his old good spirits. She sighed then, as images of dead faces hammered her mind again.

Glorfindel studied her sharply for a moment before speaking. "Is it practice in your world to count your soldiers as murderers, Elanor?"

Elanor frowned. "Of course not…"

Glorfindel gestured with open hands, and she caught his meaning.

"I know," she sighed, rubbing one watery eye. "But it's easier to say than believe. I never was in that situation, of 'kill-or-be-killed'. So I never thought about it. Of course, I wouldn't say our armed forces were murderers, but—"

"There is your answer, Elanor."

She sat in silence for a moment, unable to challenge his logic but still feeling inexorable horror at what she had done. No words were forthcoming, so she hugged her knees to herself, as if the gesture would hold all the aching pieces of her heart together.

"Elanor, I truly am sorry that I spoke so cruelly earlier," Glorfindel said, breaking the quiet. He spoke low, and yet met her gaze squarely. "I should never have questioned you in such a manner. 'Tis poor justification for my actions—" He shuddered and began again. "Elanor, you know my past. You know that which I have seen, in the fall of the Hidden City. There I saw my dearest friend fall, and felt paralysing fear for the lives of those whom I served."

Elanor simply watched, the ever-at-ease Elf suddenly lost for words.

"I think I understand."

He glanced up. "I believe you do. I was charged to defend Lady Idril, Elanor; the woman whom I had come to count so dear, and all of her kin in peril, and I helpless to save them." He shook his head and spoke with renewed steel. "To see you abed yestereve, covered in the blood of other men and with a deathly pallor upon your face, I was filled with dread, for it seemed to me that dark memories of ages past had come once more to assail me. The ghosts of my previous life were playing sport with the woman who so closely resembled the daughter of Turgon."

Elanor stared into nothing, feeling the weight of Glorfindel's hurt. His voice was iron, and she had not observed the least hardness within him until that moment.

Then she smiled softly.

"I have browsed long and hard in Elrond's library, mellon, and perused many images of the Lady Idril. And still I cannot understand the likeness you draw between us."

Glorfindel smiled and shrugged. "Your hair is much like hers, though little else of outward appearance could be called similar. 'Tis more than that, Elanor."

"All good, I hope?" she teased, though it was a half-hearted effort. She still found it hard to move beyond the images of the battlefield…

Glorfindel raised one immaculate eyebrow. "Should I speak ill of any belonging to Turgon's line?"

Then it was her turn to shrug, and her expression grew serious again.

"Thankyou for listening," she said, simply.

Glorfindel smiled. "I count it a pleasure to speak with you, on any topic." Then he reached out and took her hand, and for a moment they sat in silence.

It felt to Elanor as if a war raged inside her; the guilt, accusations and lingering images lashing viciously against the warmth inspired by Glorfindel's care and loyalty. Her relief at being alive and in one piece was tainted by disgust at how she had managed to live—at the expense of other humans. Glorfindel's logic and good sense barely held sway against the irrational but vocal screams of "Elanor you're a horrible, horrible person and murderer!" The warmth of his hand on hers was like a conscious beacon which kept her sane.

Is this what PTSD is like? she wondered.

Well now you know what those war veterans at home went through…

Yeah, and I—

The thought was cut short as Glorfindel shifted slightly.

He opened his mouth, seeming as if he teetered on the brink of divulging something that troubled him. Elanor watched, waiting for him to gather his thoughts. He seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment, before pressing his lips firmly together.

"Everything alright?"

His gaze lingered on her face for a moment, searching her features thoroughly for Elanor-knew-not-what. After a moment he gave a slight shrug of the shoulders.

"Forgive me. There is nothing amiss. But I believe I ought to return to your foster-brothers and Lord Aragorn, for there are important councils which shall pass ere this day ends. It would please them, I am sure, to see you, for I shall tell them of your coming and your safety. Do you feel able to entertain visitors?"

Elanor smiled and nodded vigorously.

Anything to distract me from this… nightmare.

"Of course. I would be glad to see them."

Glorfindel clambered to his feet, showing none of the stiffness that would linger in the limbs of a man after kneeling on the hard floor. "Then I shall leave word with the Healers that they are not to be withheld from you."

"Do you have the authority to do that?" Elanor quirked an eyebrow.

Glorfindel smiled slyly. "I came hence with Aragorn, and watched as he drew Lady Éowyn and many others from the brink of death. I believe Healer Ioreth shall not hinder any if I say you are well enough to greet them. Legolas, too, would wish to speak with you. He waits in the command tent upon the field. Might I send him to brighten your bedside?"

Elanor nodded. "That would be wonderful. Thankyou."

The Elf smiled and bowed. "I will come to speak with you again soon."

He moved to the door and opened it. With a last, lingering look and his promise hanging in the air, Glorfindel departed Elanor's room and passed out into the Houses of Healing proper.

Glorfindel pulled the door to with a gentle click. As soon as his view of Elanor was veiled, he sighed heavily and fell back against the cool stone wall.

Aulë save me.

He covered his face with his hands, and there remained for quite some time. His chest felt tight and his cheeks hot. Nothing had ruffled his composure this much in… well… an age. Whilst "ruffled" was a relative term—he still appeared more collected than any save Lord Elrond in his distress—the notion disturbed him.

His stomach fluttered. When he closed his eyes, his vision was imprinted with the image of a slight, golden-haired woman lying helpless on a bed. This swiftly shifted to reveal her tear-stained face and form shaking with desperate tears—tears he had inflicted. The thought made him sick.

Many sleepless days on horseback had left him surprisingly worn, and with an abundance of time for contemplation. Too much time, if he were truthful.

Pushing himself away from the door, Glorfindel strode down the corridor. His light footfalls were unnoticed by the healers, and he passed no one as he left the houses.

I did not ask for this! I have not desired this since… since…

An age it truly has been!

And yet here you find yourself in a more complicated tangle than last time! A mortal! Aulë forbid!

He clenched his fists as he walked, long legs carrying him swiftly down from the upper levels towards the gates of the city. He passed many people of the city blindly, not noticing the wide-eyed stares from the Gondorians. With his immense height, long gold hair and the alien beauty of his features, he was a peculiar sight amongst the raven-haired kin of Boromir and Aragorn. He was too preoccupied to notice, his normally pleasant face hardened into a pensive frown.

Eyes flicking skyward, his mind sent forth a powerful shout.

I would never have sought this, not… especially not whilst I were tasked with such a mission! I have never… for Nienna's mercy, I should never have asked… but now, now I am ensnared with no hope of escape!

Something within him chuckled.

Would you truly desire to escape from this, Glorfindel of Gondolin?

He smiled wryly, reaching the first level and angling towards the wreckage that was the gates of Minas Tirith.

Nay; never.

Elanor stared at the door through which Glorfindel had just disappeared. With the Elf gone, she found that the room was eerily quiet, and that she was very much alone.

Thank goodness he's sending Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir to visit! I need to see them again… they must be heading off to the Battle at the Black Gate soon…

Feeling fairly able to move, Elanor pulled back the blankets and stretched her feet towards the floor. She had been clad in a silky, cream nightgown. Climbing to her feet, she padded across the stone floor to the single window in her room. It looked upon a narrow stretch of grass populated by several trees, and hemmed in by a tall stone wall.

She stared at the wall, getting lost in the regular pattern of the bricks. Anything to block out the screams which echoed in her mind like she was hearing an iPod on repeat.

I wonder where Éowyn and Merry are…

Turning away from the window, Elanor opened the door and peered outside. The corridor was cool, silent and deserted. Leaving it open so she would notice the passing of one of the healers, Elanor returned to her bed to wait.

Not long later, a healer woman who called herself Ioreth made an appearance. She questioned Elanor thoroughly on her state of well-being, examined her thoroughly, and pronounced her quite well recovered.

"Still," the matronly woman said sagely, "we shall keep you here several days more. I believe you are in the company of the other woman who dwells here, Lady Éowyn?"

"Yes; may I see her?"

"Not today. Tomorrow she shall be fit to receive visitors. Once you are recovered, I shall see you are moved to be near her. I believe she might delight in your company, and you shall be good for her. You are a better patient than she, Lady Elanor."

Elanor half-smiled, knowing full well how Éowyn would likely be resisting bed rest.

"Thankyou, Ioreth. Might I have something to eat, please?"

"Certainly. I shall send a tray in for you. The Elf Lord has informed me you shall be receiving visitors today."

"Yes; is that alright?" Elanor asked meekly, hoping to win the approval of the rather stern healer.

"Yes, dear," she smiled, her grey eyes twinkling. "Rest yourself, dear. Do not hesitate to call if there is aught that you need. There is a bell beside your bed that you may ring to summon one of my staff."

"Thankyou."

The time after the healer departed left Elanor with far too long to think. She hoped Glorfindel had informed Legolas and her brothers straight away, and that they would come to speak with her soon. The horrific images kept battering against her mental defences, but she threw all her weight towards resisting. She had to, or it'd overwhelm her.

A pretty young healer apprentice came after a short time, bearing a welcome tray of breakfast. Surprisingly, the day was still young; Elanor had woken to discover Glorfindel in her room just after the eighth hour. The young woman looked similar to all of the Gondorians; near-black hair and grey eyes. Still, it was a sight different from the first breakfast-in-bed Elanor had had in Middle Earth. This girl was nothing like Indilwen on that first day, though no less welcome.

After eating, Elanor fell asleep for several hours. This sleep was troubled, embittered by the memories which jumped upon her when her mental defences were lowered. She was utterly relieved to be woken by Ioreth several hours later.

"An Elf to see you," she said, the bewilderment at the exotic visitors written on her face. Elanor smiled at the healer, knowing that she must appear as a Rohirric woman and that the attention of the Elves was extremely odd.

"Thank you, Ioreth."

A moment later Legolas entered. Elanor did not hesitate to leave her bed to embrace him enthusiastically, delighted to see her sparring partner and stoic friend.

"Elanor!" Legolas smiled, twirling her in his delight. "When Glorfindel told me of your presence, I hurried here as swiftly as I could."

"It is good to see you," Elanor laughed, when he planted her on the floor.

Imagine if Ioreth had seen that display!

"And you! I did not imagine to be reunited with you so soon, though I wish the manner of your coming was not as it is." His jovial expression became solemn. "I was most alarmed to hear of your exploits, Elanor."

She sighed, returning to sit on the side of her bed whilst Legolas pulled up the armchair.

"I wish it were different as well, Legolas, but I am here and unharmed, so there is no point giving me another scolding; Glorfindel's was more than thorough!"

Legolas raised an eyebrow at that.

"What, you rascal?" Elanor grinned, wondering at the knowing expression on his countenance.

Legolas shook his head and laughed. "Nothing, nothing. I am merely playing the fool; it is so long since I have had a chance to do so. Last time we spoke you were immensely weary. I am pleased to see you better on this occasion, for though you seem to have walked a difficult road, you do not seem dead on your feet." He winked.

"No, I feel much better rested," she admitted. "I suppose Aragorn put me in some kind of enchanted sleep when he tended me yesterday, for I slept solidly for… well, I don't know how long! I remember nothing since finding Pippin found me in the city yesterday and dragged me to the Houses of Healing. I have heard that Éowyn and Merry are still here, and that I might go and see her tomorrow. I am sure she is horribly restless. You would like her, Legolas; she has seen much suffering, but when she sets her mind to it she is cheerful and sunny."

"That is well, then; it will do you good to have a companion," he smiled.

"Yes, I am happy to have her. Where are Elladan and Elrohir?"

"Oh! alas, for I forgot the message they bid me to relay to you. They are unfortunately occupied with business this morn, and send their deepest affection and well-wishes, and a promise to visit you as soon as they may. I have heard something of the council of our leaders today, and I believe the army shall not linger here long. Aragorn wishes to strike at the enemy once more, and to give Sam and Gimli a greater chance to reach Mordor."

Sam and Gimli… so many things to think on, and to worry about… goodness me…

"So much has happened I've half forgotten about the quest for the Ring; staying alive has been trouble enough." She leaned back on her pillows and sighed. "Oh, but I was glad to see Glorfindel there before me this morning! To see him in one piece, and to hear that all of my companions from Rivendell are also unharmed!"

Legolas grinned into his hands, seemingly entertained by some great joke of his own.

"I do not doubt that he was as glad as yourself, Elanor."

Elanor is reunited with Legolas and Glorfindel! Though I do feel a bit... awkward with this chapter, I feel as if it ends/begins peculiarly. As if there was something more to add to it, but I couldn't quite manage it without making the chapter twice the length it presently is. I'm just trying to puzzle things out for the next little while, but Chapter 32 is also in the works.

Also, I hope your Glorfy-Elanor shippers are happy. ;)

Finwe.